Multiple Goals In Discourse

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Multiple Goals in Discourse Tracy, Karen. Multilingual Matters 1853590991 9781853590993 9780585156163 English Discourse analysis, Interpersonal communication. 1990 P302.M85 1990eb 401/.41 Discourse analysis, Interpersonal communication.

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Multiple Goals in Discourse Edited by Karen Tracy and Nikolas Coupland MULTILINGUAL MATTERS LTD Clevedon . Philadelphia

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Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Multiple Goals in Discourse / Edited by Karen Tracy and Nikolas Coupland. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Discourse analysis. 2. Interpersonal communication. I. Tracy, Karen. II. Coupland, Nikolas, 1950P302.M85 1990 401'.41 dc20 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Multiple Goals in Discourse. 1. Language. Discourse. AnalysisSociological perspectives. I. Tracy, Karen. II. Coupland, Nikolas. 302.224 ISBN 1-85359-099-1 Multilingual Matters Ltd Bank House, 8a Hill Road Clevedon, Avon BS21 7HH England & 1900 Frost Road, Suite 101 Bristol, PA 19007 USA Copyright © 1990 Karen Tracy, Nikolas Coupland and the authors of individual chapters This book is also available as a special issue of the Journal of Language and Social Psychology (Vol. 9, Nos. 1 and 2, 1990) All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. Typeset by Wayside Books, Clevedon, Avon Printed and bound in Great Britain by Short Run Press, Exeter

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CONTENTS Multiple Goals in Discourse: An Overview of Issues Karen Tracy And Nikolas Coupland Part I: From Discourse To Goals Facework and Politeness: Multiple Goals in Courtroom Discourse Robyn Penman Emergent Goals at a Relational Turning Point: The Case of Gordon and Denise Robert Hopper And Kent Drummond Verbal Play and Multiple Goals in the Gynaecological Exam Interaction Sandra L. Ragan Accounts, Formulations and Goal Attainment Strategies in Service Encounters Christine Lacobucci Part II: From Goals To Discourse Cognitive and Tactical Dimensions of Conversational Goal Management Vincent R. Waldron, Donald J. Cegala, William F. Sharkey And Bruno Teboul Social Goals and Speech Production: Effects of Multiple Goals on Pausal Phenomena John O. Greene, A. E. Lindsey And John J. Hawn Truths, Lies and Equivocations: The Effects of Conflicting Goals on Discourse Janet Beavin Bavelas, Alex Black, Nicole Chovil And Jennifer Mullet Multiple Goals in Discourse: An Epilogue Robert T. Craig

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Multiple Goals in Discourse: An Overview of Issues Karen Tracy Communication Department, University of Colorado, Boulder, CO 80309, USA and Nikolas Coupland Centre for Applied English Language Studies, University of Wales College of Cardiff, CardiffCF1 3XE, Wales Abstract Understanding communicative action requires bridging two worlds: the world of social actors with the purposes, concerns, and 'goals' that motivate their actions, and the world of discourse in which everyday actors' goals are expressed and inferred. This paper overviews two distinct approaches to building that bridge, discourse studies and communicative goal studies, highlighting the strengths and limitations of each approach. In addition, we overview each of the papers in the volume showing how each contributes to and extends one approach while raising challenges to the other. In the spring of 1988 Temple University held its annual Discourse Analysis Conference, on the issue of 'Multiple Goals in Faceto-Face Interaction'. In response to a call for papers outlining a set of motivating questions, scholars from an array of disciplinary backgrounds submitted and subsequently presented topically relevant work. The conference theme had apparently tapped ongoing concerns of a diversity of researchers. The questions and assumptions central to the conferencehow discourse and goals were, and should be linked; that communicators often, if not always, had more than one purposeimplicitly undergird many specific issues in the study of face-to-face communication. All participants recognised the centrality of these concerns but what became apparent during conference dialogue were the differences in the way these concerns were being addressed. Conference attenders problematised or took-for-granted different issues, asked fundamentally different questions, and disagreed about the desired end-goals of research. As a consequence of these differences, there were many heated exchanges, some of which were notable only for their heat, but many of which produced light as well: illuminating issues, generating new definitions, suggesting better starting assumptions.

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The studies presented in this monograph share two common features: (1) a recognition of the intertwined nature of 'goal' and 'discourse'; and (2) a recognition that people typically have more than one goal when they talk with others. It is essential, we argue, that goals and discourse be conceived of as intertwined concepts: if talk is conceived as essentially a mode of action then these actions will often be taken in the pursuance of 'objectives', however imprecisely formulated or formulatable. Correspondingly if we assume that people approach many social episodes with specific designs, ambitions, wishesprobably also misgivings and avoidancesthen it seems natural to look at talk as at least a potential goal-fulfilment mechanism. Moreover in considering the goal-discourse relationship, it is important to not be overly simplistic. In a critique of task design in psychological research, Griffin, Cole & Newman (1982) identify the pervasive tendency to give people a single task, an almost non-existent occasion in everyday life: 'What is crucial to point out is that in non-test settings . . . the multiple goals that occupy an individual at any point in time are very difficult to ignore' (p. 114). Our purpose in this collection is to bring together studies that address particular questions regarding multiple goals and discourse; essays that consider general theoretical issues about the links between discourse and goals are available elsewhere (Tracy, in press). The seven articles that form the main body of this volume represent the two major approaches that clashed at the conference. Each, in many ways, is an innovation within the research tradition it would identify as 'home'. And, just as juxtaposition of issues and challenges of the differing research traditions brought to light important issues at the conference, so too do we seek to achieve this result here. This introduction provides an intellectual backdrop against which to consider the seven individual studies, each grouped into one of the two main approaches. The first approach, represented by the papers in Part I begins with discourse and moves to goals. The second, seen in the papers in Part II, moves in the opposite directionfrom goals to discourse. The epilogue, a commentary by Robert Craig, examines the use and usefulness of the concept 'goal'. The concept of 'goal', Craig argues, is used by authors in several distinctly different ways, ways that reflect definitional disagreements. Given that goal is a multi-meaning, hard-to-pin-down construct, should scholars continue to use it explain communicative action? Craig considers this question in the epilogue, arguing when and how researchers should use it as a theoretical concept. In the sections that follow we describe the perspectival difference between discourse studies and communication goals studies, highlighting the past contributions and limitations of each tradition. Then, we consider the important ways each of the papers not only extends its own tradition, but raises interesting issues for the other. Discourse Studies vs. Communication Goals Studies A central division emerged at the conference: between researchers that started with naturally occurring discourse with a primary interest in how everyday

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discourse practices were tied to situated actors' goals and concerns; and researchers that created different goals for actors, with a central concern for understanding how features of goal variation affected specific aspects of discourse expression. This division, not too surprisingly, reflected different disciplinary and intellectual influences. On the one side, 'discourse studies', were researchers coming out of a variety of sociolinguistic and conversation analytic frameworks; on the other, 'communicator goal studies', were researchers influenced by social and cognitive psychological frames as well as communicative message-strategy analyses. Given the argued importance of understanding how goals and discourse interconnect, past research within each of the two traditions can be faulted for either ignoring or glossing one of the key components: discourse studies have exhibited a reticence to treat goals; communicator goal studies have displayed a reluctance to look at discourse. Let us consider each. A reticence to treat goals in discourse studies Studies of situated discourse and conversation have appeared reticent to take on board, or at least render explicit, the notion of goals. Even classical speech-act theory in Austin's (1962) and Searle's (1969, 1979) conception, which insisted on the now dominant language-as-action perspective, characterised communicative functions in terms of illocutionary acts and perlocutionary sequels, but crucially not perlocutionary intent (cf. Ferrara, 1985: 140). The theory proposed a perspective on the function or 'force' of an utterance as residing within, or realised through, its enactment. It eschewed the cognitive mechanisms and strategic initiatives that would seem to underlie, or at least be enmeshed in, the utterance's generation and interpretation in context. This is an odd legacy for a pragmatic theory, inviting analysis of the achievements of, and outcomes from discursive acts, but stopping short of considering the ways in which the outcomes are projected, formulated, and indeed forestalled by speakers during and in anticipation of interactional involvement. Despite this, 'strategy' has come to be a preferred explanatory heuristic for discourse studies (e.g. Goody, 1978; Gumperz, 1982a, 1982b), perhaps most clearly articulated in Brown & Levinson's (1978, 1987) account of politeness phenomena in talk designed to manage face-threatening acts. Brown & Levinson (1987) overview their own approach as presupposing an 'account of the nature of communication as a special kind of intent designed to be recognized by the recipient' (p. 7). From this perspective politeness theory is developed as the mutual inferencing and attributional work interactants engage in to forestall threat to either positive face (being held in good regard) or negative face (freedom from intrusion). The strategic focus is highlighted too in a less well-known forerunner of the politeness modelLaver's (1981, 1984) analyses of the interactional functioning of 'phatic communion'the uncertainty-reducing and social solidarity work familiars do at the fringes of social encounters. For instance Laver saw phatic communication during conversational openings as essentially strategic, simultaneously serving 'propitiatory' (problem avoidance and the defusing of hostility), 'exploratory'

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(establishing a working consensus), and 'initiatory' (opening an interaction) functions. This analysis supplanted the classical view of phatic talk as 'mere' smalltalk, most notable for its lack of purposiveness (Malinowski, 1923; see also Coupland & Coupland, forthcoming). Given the implicit pervasiveness of goals, why have discourse studies shown a reticence to take them on explicitly? It may be as Sinclair (1985) argues, because: The problem is mainly where to stop. Language activity is but one component of our general activity, which itself is largely purposeful. The separation of purposes that are recognized as being carried out through discourse from those that are not so circumscribed requires units that perform a linking role and relate complete patterns of linguistic activity to patterns of our more general behaviour (p. 16). Other explanations undoubtedly lie in the inherent indeterminacy of goals in action. If a critical priority of discourse scholars is to reflect the contextual specificity of talk and its local sequential organisation, is an analysis in terms of goals at all tenable? Does the conversation analytic focus on 'the interaction order as an organized domain in its own right' (Maynard, 1988: 326) still permit such apparently extra-textual constructs as goals? While recognising these as important considerations, we do not conceive of them as inherent obstacles to using notions of 'goal' to understand situated talk. It is only if discourse scholars take a relatively narrow, restricted definition of goalseeing it as a preinteractional entity that is stable, neatly bounded, clearly representable, consciously formulatable and monitoredthat problems can arise. Bilmes (1986) goes so far as to argue that discourse studies must deal with 'intentions', not in the psychological sense of what the actor really wanted, but in referring to the socially recognisable ways actors formulate and display intentions in discourse. While it is true that study of discourse cannot give us direct access to people's goals, it is the resource everyday actors have to display their own goals, and infer others. Discourse studies, then could provide us with an especially good way to address the question of what actual concerns and goals people orient to in specific communicative encounters. In the first section of this collection 'From Discourse to Goals' the authors identify the communicative goals people oriented to in four different situations the questioning and answering of barristers and witnesses in the courtroom (Penman), one college student breaking off a dating relationship with another (Hopper & Drummond), the talk between a nurse-practitioner and patients during a gynaecological exam (Ragan), and exchanges between customers and service representatives of a telephone company (lacobucci). Each of these studies reveals interesting complexities in the idea of what a goal is and how it is linked to discourse. As a group, too, they challenge the starting conception of goal used in much communication and psychological research. Focusing on courtroom interaction Penman proposes a complex set of face goals that must be in operation if we are to account for the nature of talk that occurs in the courtroom. In addition she shows how the goals are realised using multiple, and often ambiguous, discourse strategies. Hopper & Drummond, too,

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challenge some typical operating assumptions about how goals relate to discourse. By comparing a person's after-the-fact account of a relational break-up with the actual telephone recording of the break-up, Hopper & Drummond highlight the way the simple goal, explicitly mentioned in the account, does not jibe with the variety of goals displayed and oriented to in the actual achievement of the breakup. Ragan draws attention to the way discourse actions that are clearly spontaneous and not preplannedverbal play episodesaccomplish an important interactional goal in medical settings in general (treating the patient as person). And in the last paper of Part I, Iacobucci evidences the necessity of conceiving of communicator goals as being nested and hierarchical (see also Hawkins & Daly, 1988), showing how 'an account', a discourse strategy whose function has been assumed to be primarily relational and self-presentational, can serve a clear task function in customer-service encounters. Papers in Part I, then, begin with naturally occurring discourse and show the ways in which a family of goal conceptsintentions, purposes, wishes, concernscan help us better understand a range of face-to-face exchanges. Moreover, not only do the papers illustrate some interesting ways discourse study can be extended and improved by incorporating notions of goal, the papers also raise important questions about the conception of 'goal' on which many psychological and communicative studies are premised. Consider, now, how communicator goal studies have approached these issues. The reluctance of communication goals studies to look at discourse Whereas past discourse study had failed to take seriously social actors with intentions and concerns who produce discourse, communicator goal studies have largely looked at goals one-at-a-time and ignored discourse expression. Centrally concerned with providing a general account of human motivation and communicative action, communicator goals studies have operated at a relatively abstract level. In contrast to discourse studies which begin with situated texts, communicator goal studies begin with a theoretical framework The framework postulates certain relationships to exist between goals and actors or outcomes, and then seeks to test the validity of hypothesised relationships. One important concern of theorists, within this tradition has been the identification of the main types of goals that undergird communicative action (Clark & Delia, 1979; Forgas, 1983; Graham, Argyle & Furnham, 1980; O'Keefe & Delia, 1982; McCann & Higgins, 1984; Tracy, in press). While the goal names have varied, two communicator goals are repeatedly identified as basic. The first type of goal is the task or instrumental goal; in general, task goals are seen as the purpose of interaction. In addition to the 'task' however, are the concerns people have about how they are presenting themselves and their concerns for the relationship. Sometimes this non-task goal is treated as a single goal-cluster, 'the face goals of interaction' (e.g. Tracy, 1990); other times it is split in two: identity goals and relational goals (Coupland, Coupland, Giles & Henwood, in press; O'Keefe & Delia, 1982).

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While the 'content' of basic goals has received considerable attention, less thought has been given to levels of goals and to how different levels might be connected to discourse (Craig, 1986). Coupland et al. (in press) argue for the importance of considering the ways in which goals vary in scope. At one extreme, they suggest, goals may relate to highly restricted and local interactional concerns; at the other, to general pervasive concerns (Pervin, 1986; Rawlins, in press). At the lowest level, goals may be directed toward specific communicative functionsto make a claim, to challenge a statement, to praise, to reprimand. This level, the speech act level (Searle, 1969, 1979) is likely to reflect goals that emerge for interactants as they talk rather than being held for talk a priori. At a higher level are goals for interactional outcomesto win an argument, to get support, to comfort another, to get someone to comply with one's wishes. Goals at this level are probably the easiest to specify pre-interactionally, and in fact, have been the most studied. How goals at this level relate to talk, though, is likely to be more complex. Most likely instrumental goals will be combined with identity goals to construct 'the' goal of the interaction, one that we could expect to involve conflicts and compromises at some level. This feature of goal combination or 'multiplicity' has frequently not been recognised in past research. At the highest level are quite globally operative goals that embrace notions of enduring socio-emotional needs and priorities. The claim that people in close relations have the fundamental goals of autonomy and connectedness (Bochner, 1982; Rawlins, 1983; Tannen, 1984b) is an example of this type of goal. Group level processes relevant to social identity are also relevant here. For instance in an analysis of elderly self-disclosure, Coupland and colleagues (Coupland, Coupland, Giles & Wiemann, 1988; Coupland, Coupland, Giles & Henwood, in press; Coupland, Henwood, Coupland & Giles, 1990) show how managing elderliness itself establishes a goal agenda for older conversants as well as their younger conversational partners. Another dimension on which goal conceptions vary concerns whether the goal is stated positively or negatively. Concretely this means, for instance, do we think of a communicator's goal as 'be honest' or 'avoid lying', 'to be considerate and tactful' or 'to not hurt the other'? Obviously there are strong connections between the positive and negative framing of a goal, but it is also the case that each framing may lead us to view interaction differently. As Craig (1986) notes, 'the "same" goal can often be subjected to multiple and quite various descriptions' (p. 259). By and large, goal typologies have been of positive goals (e.g. Clark & Delia, 1979; Graham, Argyle & Furnham, 1980). Bavelas et al. (this volume) provide an interesting contrast; communicative situations are framed in terms of the conflicting negative goals that actors seek to avoid. Going even one step further, is Penman's (this volume) typology of facework goals. Penman highlights how courtroom interactants may not only have goals of minimising negative judgments about self but also may have the goal of attacking and demeaning the other. Penman and Bavelas et al.'s papers raise an interesting conceptual issue: How should researchers decide among different possible goal framings? We see no easy answer to this question: what will be the 'best' framing will depend on a researcher's purpose. We do think, however, this issue needs more explicit and

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careful thought than it has typically received; and Craig (this volume) offers us one starting place for grounding goal concepts. As was noted earlier, goals conceived at the level of interactional outcome have been the most researched. How communicators go about getting others to like them (Bell & Daly, 1984), terminate a relationship (Baxter, 1982), successfully manage an embarrassing moment (Cupach, Metts & Hazelton, 1986) or persuade another are the kinds of interactional outcomes that have been studied. Of all the goals investigated, the goal of gaining someone's compliance (persuasion) has received the most attention (e.g. Cody, Canary & Smith, in press; Cody & McLaughlin, 1990; Dillard, 1989, 1990; Rules & Bisanz, 1987). Much of the earlier work on compliance-gaining focused on identifying the individual differences and situational factors that led actors to select different message strategies (see Seibold, Cantrill & Meyers, 1985 for a review). More recent work has begun to make finer distinction about the kinds of persuasion goals an actor might have and how these in turn influence selection of message choices. For instance, Rules & Bisanz (1987) describe persuasion as involving twelve common goals that people attempt to achieve using fifteen different strategies. Goals identified in their taxonomy include, for instance, such goals as 'to change a person's opinion', 'to get another to change a habit', or 'to get someone to change a relationship'. A study by Dillard (1989) is illustrative of a 'typical' way consequence-oriented goal studies proceed, highlighting the strengths as well as the limitations of this kind of approach. Three questions are central in Dillard's study: (1) what types of influence goals do people see as central in their close relationships? (2) How can goals be interpreted empirically and theoretically? and (3) How do message features relate to goals? To investigate these questions, self-report data asking people what goals they had in interpersonal influence situations were collected from over 200 people. Participants described a communicative situation where they were successful and unsuccessful at persuading another. Drawing then upon people's accounts as well as prior category systems, Dillard identified the main types of influence goals people had in their interpersonal relationships, finding such goals as 'giving advice', 'gaining assistance', 'changing a relationship'. Then in a second study, using roughly similar numbers of participants, people again described a situation but this time also described what they said ('First I said . . . Then s/he said . . .'). Participant-reported messages were coded with regard to three message features (positivity, directness and logic) and then message feature variation was linked through statistical analyses to types of goals. A study like this, using large numbers of participants, gives us information about general patterns of human behaviour. It tells us about the relationship between goals and message features largely unavailable through detailed study of a small set of instances. But, this kind of study also has limitations. In particular it is not especially clear what the general relationship identified corresponds to in actual communicative situations. The correspondence with everyday communicative practices is unclear because (1) it is likely that people had more than one goal operating at the time and only cuing one may have led to unpredictable distortions; (2) goals may emerge interactively as the partner makes certain moves; (3)

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we could expect people's accounts of these persuasive attempts to be influenced by desires to be seeneven in this nonpersonal, anonymous research context as reasonable, fair, etc.; (4) we know people do not remember exactly what they say; and (5) it is far from a simple matter how a speaker gets from the general strategy levelthe level at which people typically report (e.g. I'd be friendly and then ask them for the favour) to the specifics of talk. While few theorists would argue with a characterisation of social interaction as motivated by multiple goals, the model implicitly underlying much past research, as exemplified in Dillard's study, has been 'single goal'. To the degree that few everyday situations are single-goal ones, communicator goal researchers are hard-pressed to get back to the social world they are seeking to understand. Taking goal-multiplicity seriously though, raises a new set of relatively complicated issues to be considered. In particular, it becomes important to chart how goals can relate to each other and the discourse consequences for different kinds of relationships. If we take account of the multiple levels of goals discussed thus far, goal-conflict can be assumed to be endemic. Not only do individuals have interactional goals that can be at odds with each other (Bavelas et al. this volume; Penman, this volume; Tracy, in press), one individual's goals may conflict with another's (Hopper & Drummond, this volume; lacobucci, this volume). Further, goal conflict can also be shown to characterise intergroup encounters, whether individuals are functioning as representatives of social groups (Tajfel, 1981) or social institutions (Fisher & Todd, 1986; Ragan, this volume). This leads us to a view of goals as 'tensioning' interaction, where, perhaps ubiquitously, people are charting courses among preferred and dispreferred goals and strategic options (Coupland, Coupland, Giles & Henwood, in press). Study of multiple goals has not been entirely neglected. O'Keefe and her colleagues (O'Keefe, 1988; in press; O'Keefe & Lambert, 1989; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987) have developed a conceptual system that captures ways in which individuals differ in how they pursue multiple goals. Individuals, they argue, manifest, one of three communication 'logics' in linking and pursuing the multiple face/task goals, inherent in social situations: an expressive logic, a conventional logic and a rhetorical one. O'Keefe's work alerts us to the problem of assuming that the goals in actors' minds get expressed in discourse in a univariate way, a complexity we need to keep in mind. But while O'Keefe's work draws our attention to one complexity, it ignores another. The 'discourse' studied is highly idealised therein, making ties to everyday talk problematic. For instance, in one study, participants wrote down how they would try to persuade a negligent group member to do his or her group project. Then, the text was coded with regard to specific message strategies. We see it as unimaginable that people in laboratory studies would write down the kinds of nonfluencies, repetitions, and inelegant word choice found to characterise much oral discourse. Not only do people not recall their talk as rambling and fragmented (as attested to by the shock of most students upon first reading transcribed natural discourse) but they probably also conform to the conventions of written discourse in reporting their 'talk', conventions we know to be significantly different from oral discourse (Tannen, 1982, 1984a). If the particulars of word

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choice pauses, nonfluencies, and repetitions are key elements of the strategies and/or consequences of pursuing multiple goals as Greene et al. (this volume) and Bavelas et al. (this volume) show, then not looking at oral discourse is problematic. Tracy and her colleagues have also investigated a set of issues concerning how multiple goals are displayed in discourse (Craig, Tracy & Spisak, 1986; Tracy, 1984, 1985). In one situation studied (Tracy, 1984), participants were asked to write down what they would say to a conversational partner who had made a particular comment. All participants had two goalsto be conversationaly attentive and to get the talk to a preferred topicbut the two experimental conditions prioritised the goals differently. Results indicated that goal priority influenced the kinds of topical extensions made; participants produced more coherent responses when their primary goal was to be attentive rather than to talk about their preferred topic. But while goal priority conditions produced differences in goal weighting, most participants found conversational moves that allowed them to pursue both goals simultaneously. Tracy's earlier work used idealised discourse and included some of the same limitations noted above; More recent work has looked at actual interaction (see for instance Tracy & Eisenberg, 1989). This is an important conceptual move for communication goals studies. Looking at oral discourse takes considerably more time, effort and imagination than studying written self-reports. But, if what communicator goals researchers are interested in understanding is how goals shape oral communicative practices, then it seems a necessity. In contrast to much past work, the three papers presented in Part II analyse oral discourse and do so in situations in which more than a single goal is pursued. Similar to past research, situations are created in which participants are given, or led to have, identifiable a priori goals. Then predictions about how the goals will influence discourse expression are assessed by observing numbers of participants in 'the same' situation. In addition to the goals-discourse focus, each study pursues a more general psychological question. In the first paper, Waldron, Cegala, Sharkey & Teboul directly investigate what is typically assumed in most communicator goals research: that much of the thinking tht occurs while people are conversing is strategic and goal-directed. Using a cuedrecall procedure in which interactants wrote down what they were thinking after viewing a videotape of themselves talking to another, Waldron et al. examine the content of the reported thought. Interestingly, while they find evidence of considerable strategic thought, they also find a large amount of non-strategic thought. A second issue which this paper sheds light on concerns whether there is a relationship between the discourse straegies used by one person and the goal/ non-goal thoughts of a partner. In the next paper, Greene, Lindsey & Hawn examine the ways in which an actor's pursuit of multiple goals versus a single specified goal impacts on a set of discourse fluency features. Drawing upon cognitive-processing theories, they predict goal complexity to lead to increased nonfluency phenomena. In one situation speakers are instructed to pursue a task goal (be clear and direct); in the other, they are also concerned about the other's face. Results evidence some interesting speech style differences between the two situations.

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In the last paper in this section, Bavelas, Black, Chovil & Mullet locate goals in a somewhat different place; goals are conceived as features of the social situation rather than entities in interactants' heads. Situations, they argue, have built-in socially shared and understood goals. The nature of situations accounts for predictable differences in how people talk. In some situations, such as when people have nice things to say to another they like, goals are relatively compatible. But in other situations, where people need to say negative things to another they do not want to hurt, goals are in conflict. This difference among goal relations, they argue, affects the degree to which a speaker's discourse will be 'equivocal'. Using a series of fine-grained comparisons among situations with different goal configurations, Bavelas et al. illuminate how changing the situation, influences discourse 'equivocality' in the predicted ways. Conclusions This volume, quite consciously has sought to assemble work representing diverse intellectual traditions. While diverse, all papers share a commitment to looking at the complex interweaving of goals, outcomes and discourse practices. Each of the two broad traditions represented here makes moves that recognise some aspect of the taken-for-granted starting point of the other. The discourse papers in Part I acknowledge the explanatory potential inherent in the conception of 'goal', recognising the way in which appreciation of discourse becomes impoverished when it remains detached from actors who possess purposes and intentions. Similarly, by examining oral discourse, the papers in Part II confirm the importance of looking at particulars of talk to come to an adequate understanding about goal expression. Differences of emphasis, perhaps even incompatible epistemological views, still remain. Discourse analysts may suspect the 'purity' of goal-conditions established for subjects. Is it in fact possible, they might ask Greene and colleagues, to establish a single goal conditions? Are not face concerns ubiquitous in social interaction, even laboratory talk? In what sense is it meaningful to code talk along simple dimensions like tactic directness (Waldron et al. )and equivocality (Bavelas et al.)?; do not such coding moves ignore the most interesting facet of talkits situationally adapted nature? Is not communicator goal research based on a deterministic model of input (goal)-output (discourse) that is highly questionable? In sum, discourse studies directly and explicitly continue to challenge the assumptions and starting point of communicator goal studies. Equally powerful, but more implicit, are the challenges from communicator goal studies to discourse analysts. Basically, communicator goal studies challenge discourse work by treating it as marginally relevant to the aims of communicator-goals research. If a dialogue were to be presented for analysis, communicator goal researchers would undoubtedly raise questions like: 'How do you get from study of a local occasion to general principles about communicative action? How is what you are doing relevant to creating cross-situational explanations? Why no control? Why only a single case? How do you know your analysis and interpretation of the text is not idiosyncratic?'

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It is well beyond the scope of this collection to resolve such deep-rooted empirical and epistemological conflicts. But perhaps we can see the beginnings here of an interchange and an openness to alternative academic 'discourses' in pursuit of overlapping research goals. References Austin, J. L. (1962) How to Do Things with Words. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Baxter, L. A. (1982) Strategies for ending relationships: Two studies. Western Journal of Speech Communication 46, 223-41. Bell, R. A. and Daly, J. A. (1984) The affinity-seeking function of communication. Communication Monographs 51,91-115. Bilmes, J. (1986) Discourse and Behavior. New York: Plenum Press. Bochner, A. P. (1982) On the efficacy of openness in close relationships. In M. Burgoon (ed.) Communication Yearbook 5. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. C. (1987) Universals in Language Usage: Politeness Phenomena. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (1978) Universals in language usage: Politeness phenomena. In E. N. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clark, R. A. and Delia, J. G. (1979) Topic and rhetorical competence. The Quarterly Journal of Speech 65, 187-206. Cody, M. J., Canary, D. J. and Smith, S. W. (in press) Compliance-gaining goals: An inductive analysis of actor's goal-types, strategies and successes. In J. Daly and J. Wiemann (eds) Communicating Strategically. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Cody, M. J. and McLaughlin, M. L. (1990) The Psychology of Tactical Communication. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Coupland, J., Coupland, N., Giles, H. and Wiemann, J. (1988) My life in your hands: Processes of self-disclosure in intergenerational talk. In N. Coupland (ed.) Styles of Discourse. London: Croom Helm. Coupland, N. and Coupland, J. (forthcoming) Negotiating phatic communion: Elderly patients and their doctors. Coupland, N., Coupland, J., Giles, H. and Henwood, K. (in press) Intergenerational talk: Goal consonance and intergroup dissonance. In K. Tracy (ed.) Understanding Face-to-Face Interaction. Issues Linking Goals and Discourse. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Coupland, N., Henwood, K. Coupland, J. and Giles, H. (1990) Accommodating troubles-talk: The management of elderly selfdisclosure. In J. McGregor and R. White (eds) Reception and Response: Hearer Creativity and the Analysis of Written and Spoken Texts. London: Croom Helm. Craig, R. T. (1986) Goals in discourse. In D. G. Ellis and W. A. Donohue (eds) Contemporary Issues in Language and Discourse Processes. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Craig, R. T., Tracy, K. and Spisak, F. (1986) The discourse of requests: Assessment of a politeness approach. Human Communication Research 12 437-68. Cupach, W. R., Metts, S. and Hazelton Jr, V. (1986) Coping with embarrassing predicaments: Remedial strategies and their perceived utility. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 5, 181-200. Dillard, J. P. (1989) Types of influence goals in personal relationships. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 6, 293308. (1990) The nature and substance of goals in tactical communication. In M. J. Cody and M. L. McLaughlin (eds) The Psychology of Tactical Communication. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Ferrara, A. (1985) Pragmatics. In T. van Dijk (ed.) Handbook of Discourse Analysis Vol. 2. London: Academic Press.

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Fisher, S. and Todd, S. D. (eds) (1986) Discourse and Institutional Authority: Medicine, Education and Law. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Forgas, J. P. (1983) Language, goals and situations. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 2, 267-93. Goody, E. N. (1978) Introduction. In E. N. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham, J., Argyle M. and Furnham, A. (1980) The goal structure of situations. European Journal of Social Psychology 10, 345-66. Griffin, P., Cole, M. and Newman, D. (1982) Locating task in psychology and education. Discourse Processes 5, 111-25. Gumperz, J. J. (ed.) (1982a) Language and Social Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (1982b) Discourse Strategies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hawkins, R. P. and Daly, J. (1988) Cognition and communication. In R. P. Hawkins, J. M. Wiemann and S. Pingree (eds) Advancing Communication Science: Merging Mass and Interpersonal Processes. Newbury Park: Sage. Laver, J. (1981) Linguistic routines and politeness in greeting and parting. In F. Coulmas (ed.) Conversational Routine. The Hague: Mouton. (1984) Communicative functions of phatic communion. In A. Kendon, R. M. Harris and M. R. Key (eds) The Organization in Face-to-Face Interaction. The Hague: Mouton. Malinowski, B. (1923) Phatic communication. Supplement to C. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards The Meaning of Meaning. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Maynard, D. W. (1988) Language, interaction and social problems. Social Problems 4, 311-34. McCann, C. D. and Higgins, E. T. (1984) Individual differences in communication: Social cognitive determinants and consequences. In H. E. Sypher and J. L. Applegate (eds) Communication by Children and Adults. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. O'Keefe, B. J. (1988) The logic of message design: Individual differences in reasoning about communication. Communication Monographs 55, 80-103. (in press) Message design logic and the management of multiple goals. In K. Tracy (ed.) Understanding Face-to-Face Interaction: Issues Linking Goals and Discourse. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. O'Keefe, B. J. and Delia, J. G. (1982) Impression formation and message production. In M. E. Roloff and C. R. Berger (eds) Social Cognition and Communciation. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. O'Keefe, B. J. and Lambert, B. (1989) Effects of message design logic on the communication of intentions. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Speech Communication Association, San Francisco. O'Keefe, B. J. and Shepherd, G. J. (1987) The pursuit of multiple objectives in face-to-face persuasive interactions: Effects of construct differentiation on message organization. Communication Monographs 54, 397-419. Pervin, L. A. (1986) Personal and social determinants of behaviour in situations. In A. Furnham (ed.) Social Behavior in Context. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Rawlins, W. K. (1983) Negotiating close friendship. The dialectic of conjunctive freedoms. Human Communication Research 9, 255-66. (in press) Double agency and the discourse of friendship. In K. Tracy (ed.) Understanding Face-to-Face Interaction: Issues Linking Goals and Discourse. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Rules, B. G. and Bisanz, G. L. (1987) Goals and strategies of persuasion: A cognitive schema for understanding social events. In M. P. Zanna, J. M. Olson and C. P. Herman (eds) Social Influence: The Ontario Symposium, Volume 5. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Searle, J. (1969) Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (1979) Expression and Meaning: Studies in the Theory of Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Seibold, D. R., Cantrill, J. G. and Meyers, R. A. (1985) Communication and interpersonal influence. In M. L. Knapp and G. R. Miller (eds) Handbook of Interpersonal Communication. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Sinclair, J. McH. (1985) On the integration of linguistic description. In T. van Dijk (ed.) Handbook of Discourse Analysis Volume 2. London: Academic Press. Tajfel, H. (1981) Social stereotypes and social groups. In J. C. Turner and H. Giles (eds) Intergroup Behaviour. Oxford: Blackwell. Tannen, D. (ed.) (1982) Spoken and Written Language: Exploring Orality and Literacy. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. (ed) (1984a) Coherence in Spoken and Written Discourse. Norwood NJ: Ablex. (1984b) Conversational Style: Analyzing Talk among Friends. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Tracy, K. (1984) The effect of multiple goals on conversational relevance and topic shift. Communication Monographs 51, 27487. (1985) Conversational coherence: A cognitively grounded rules approach. In R. Street and J. N. Cappella (eds) Sequence and Pattern in Communicative Behaviour. London: Edward Arnold Publishers. (1990) The many faces of facework. In H . Giles and P. Robinson (eds) Handbook of Language and Social Psychology. Chichester: John Wiley and Sons. (ed.) (in press) Understanding Face-to-Face Interaction: Issues Linking Goals and Discourse. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Tracy, K. and Eisenberg, E. M. (1989) Multiple goals: Unpacking a commonplace. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the International Communication Association, San Francisco.

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Facework & Politeness: Multiple Goals In Courtroom Discourse Robyn Penman Communication Research Institute of Australia, GPO Box 655, Canberra, ACT2601, Australia Abstract This paper places recent work on politeness and facework into a broader framework concerned with the analysis of multiple goals in courtroom discourse. Problems with Brown & Levinson's (1978) theory as applied to ongoing discourse are addressed. A schema is developed that can be used to interpret major strategic options available for the conducting of facework. A methodology for employing this interpretative approach is described and illustrated with case studies of courtroom discourse. Preliminary analyses provide support for the approach: it is applicable to ongoing discourse and has a coherent internal logic. Directions for future research are indicated. All discourse analysis is concerned with making sense of a fundamental human phenomenoncommunication. At the heart of this sense-making process is the assignment of meaning. And the 'goal' construct is one of the most commonly used in this meaning assignment process. Over the past decade, Brown & Levinson's (1978) theory of politeness has been used extensively to account for one major goal of conversational actors: the meeting of 'face wants'. It is assumed that all persons are concerned about their face and that they recognise that others similarly have face wants. It is further assumed that it is generally in everyone's interests to work towards the maintenance of each other's face. This face-maintenance work is achieved with the use of politeness strategies. In all, Brown & Levinson's (1978) theory of politeness has provided an important basis for a broad range of studies and has had a substantial impact on the area of conversational or discourse analysis. In their reissue (1987) of their original monograph, many of these studies are reviewed, their own theory critiqued and further issues raised. Of import to this paper is a conclusion reached in their reissue: 'Work on interaction as a system thus remains a fundamental research priority and the area from which improved conceptualisations of politeness are most likely to emerge' (1987: 48).

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This paper addresses itself to the possibility of improved conceptualisations arising from an application of the theory to ongoing, interactive discourse. That the theory does have its problems, and requires further improvement, is indicated by Brown & Levinson's (1987) own recent critique as well as by other reviewers (e.g. Coupland, Grainger & Coupland, 1988; Craig, Tracy & Spisak, 1986; Tracy, 1990). Many of the problems emerged when the politeness theory was directly applied to actual language use data, especially ongoing discourse (e.g. Baxter, 1984; Shimanoff, 1977). Curiously, while Brown & Levinson note the importance of looking at politeness 'interactively', the problems that have arisen from others doing so are inappropriately referred to simply as '[p]roblems of quantification and operationalization' (1987: 21). The problems are, in fact, more substantial than this. At least three conceptual problems can be identified in Brown & Levinson's politeness theory. First, while facework is seen to provide the underlying 'dynamic', the theory limits itself to only one set of strategic possibilities, those of politeness. But facework also can be achieved without politeness. Second, and as a consequence of the first limitation, the politeness theory neglects issues of face aggravation; focusing only on face protection and mitigation to potential threat. Third, while the politeness theory proposes that both self- and other-directed strategies are possible, Brown & Levinson's analysis neglects selfdirected strategies. There are also a number of structural/methodological problems. First, there is no conceptual structure or continuum linking the output strategies. In other words, the output strategies described by Brown & Levinson (1978, 1987) have no basis for internal consistency. Second, the methods of analysis were not developed for the systematic, sequential interpretation of ongoing discourse. All of the examples given by Brown & Levinson are single utterances drawn out of the context of ongoing discourse. These conceptual and methodological problems will be discussed further as the theory is reformulated in the next section. Craig et al. identified similar problems in their study and concluded that we need a 'new theory of facework that would extend and correct the Brown & Levinson framework' (1986: 462). It is the aim of this paper to modify and extend Brown & Levinson's theory into a broader facework framework that can be applied to ongoing discourse. Most important will be the need to account for the procedures whereby goals can be inferred and their multiplicity in interaction recognised. Despite the common use of the 'goal' construct, its application to discourse analysis is not a simple one. In the first instance, any given communicative act can have more than one goal description. Actors may have the intent of achieving more than one goal at once and/or can construe another's action as being multiply goal oriented. When we engaged in discourse more than one purpose can be achieved at any point in time and many different purposes over time. Second, the nature of the goals, multiple or not, assigned to acts is very much context-dependent. The same act can be assigned different goal descriptions in different contexts, both spatial and temporal. It is the purpose of this paper to explore the problem of multiple goals in a specific contextthat of courts of lawand with a particular category of goals

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those of facework. The courtroom context is a valuable one in two regards. First, as Brown & Levinson (1987, p. 51) themselves note, the courtroom is an interesting context for exploring the politeness perspective because of the 'formal protocol that regulate[s] potential conflict'. Second, previous work (Nofsinger, 1983; Penman, 1987) quite clearly indicates that while informational goals may appear to be the sine qua non of courtroom communication, there is more to the discourse than this. There are additional goal orientations best described by the concept of facework. But how exactly they can be described by this concept in practice is the purpose of this paper. A Reformulation: Facework & Politeness Some of the past difficulties encountered, for example, by Craig et al. (1986) can be attributed to taking politeness as the basic construct for the analysis of facework. There is a range of strategies, other than politeness, that people employ in their facework. Facework is a more general category than politeness; politeness phenomena being subsumable within it. Even within Brown & Levinson's theory (1978), the notion of 'face' was seen not only to be a necessary prerequisite to account for politeness but could motivate other strategies as well. They did not, however, elaborate on these other strategies. In order to be able to account for a broader range of strategies and conversational structure, facework must be taken as the more encompassing and more fundamental concept. In Goffman's pioneering work on social interaction and facework (e.g. 1959, 1971, 1972), he took 'face' to mean 'the positive social value a person effectively claims for himself . . ., in terms of approved social attributes' and 'facework' as 'the actions taken by a person to make whatever he is doing consistent with face' (Goffman, 1972: 5). In this conception, facework is selfdirected. Curiously, most recent work done in the field has neglected self-directed facework and focused almost solely on otherdirected facework. Facework has been taken to be something which one person does to another: we either honour or threaten the other's face (Shimanoff, 1987); we either aggravate or mitigate the other's face (McLaughlin, Cody & O'Hair, 1983); or we either cooperate with or antagonise the other (Craig et al., 1986). Brown & Levinson (1978, 1987) are an important exception to this other-directed focus,, making a conceptual distinction between self- and other-directed strategies. In line with Brown & Levinson, then, self- and other-directed strategies need to be considered when dealing with facework dynamics. This provides us with our first possibility for multiple facework goals. It is also important to incorporate another distinction of Brown & Levinson's (1978): that between positive and negative face. According to Brown & Levinson, positive face is concerned with the desire to have a positive and consistent self-image appreciated by at least some others and positive facework is orientated towards establishing and maintaining the desired distance and interpersonal constraints between self and other. Apart from making distinctions between different types of facework, it is also necessary to consider what the underlying dimension of facework could be. As has

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been pointed out by others (Coupland et al., 1988; Craig et al., 1986), Brown & Levinson's theory (1978) lacks an underlying continuum for the output and super strategies. While this clearly raises methodological problems, it also points to a basic conceptual problem: what is facework about? Previous researchers have proposed the dimension of cooperation-antagonism (Craig et al., 1986), aggravation-mitigation (McLaughlin et al., 1983) and honour-threat (Shimanoff, 1987). As argued above, however, these proposals conceive of facework only as something which one person does to another. Dimensions like cooperation-antagonism do not capture facework directed towards the self: one does not cooperate with or antagonise one's own face. A more encompassing dimension is needed; one that can account for how one person may aid or hinder their own face needs as well as the other's. Just such an encompassing concept has been proposed by Harré (1979). A basic premise of Harré's theory is that 'the most fundamental of all structural principles around which human life is organised is that which informs the institutions of respect and contempt' (1979: 15). Because respect and contempt are the subject of public and ceremonial display as well as being enacted in private, the concepts have as much relevance for general social relationships as for close personal ones. They also reflect interactional properties; being marked in reciprocal and complementary forms of action (Harré, 1979). For there to be an attribution and showing of respect or contempt, at least two people are required who must publicly represent their place in their relationship. Respect, as a socially reciprocal relation, can be shown by deference or admiration to the other and reciprocated by some act of 'affable condescension' (Harré, 1979). Similarly, respect to the self can be shown by acting in a dignified way that is reciprocated by deference. Contempt, on the other hand, can be shown by disdain or disgust to the other and reciprocated by grovelling, resentment or even retaliation. While contempt to the self can be shown by self deprecation and reciprocated by disgust, ridicule or the like. Respect and contempt also can bear various relations with each other depending on the frame of reference. There are instances when we can be privately contemptuous of a person's ideas but publicly respect their right to voice them. There are other instances where we engaged in the public display of respect but feel contemptuous of what that ritual stands for. With that frame of reference, respect and contempt can operate as continous parallel dimensions. On the other hand, if our concern is only with the public and observable display of facework in communication, then that facework can be evaluated in terms of a single dimension ranging from respect to contempt. But, even within this frame, it is still possible, for example, to show respect towards another while showing contempt towards self. This respect-contempt construct is not one commonly employed in either discourse analyses or interpersonal communication analyses. Yet, there is little doubt that Goffman assumed such a construct in his theory of facework. For example, in his major essay on facework (1972), he makes continual reference to notions such as honour, dignity and self-respect. Other researchers have also assumed the operation of such a respect-contempt dimension even if they have not explicitly explored it (e.g. Bochner, 1982; Park, 1985). It would seem that the

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concept of respect-contempt could at least have some heuristic value. What it allows us to discover will be demonstrated in a later section on facework in courts. The work reviewed above, using Brown & Levinson's (1978, 1987) theory of politeness, has created a picture of a rather complex set of dynamics involved with facework. So far, we conceptually have a 2 x 2 choice matrix for actorstwo types of 'face' x two types of actors ('speaker' and 'hearer' in Brown & Levinson's theory)that revolves around a respect-contempt dimension. This initially gives us four major conceptual facework categories: Self-Directed Positive and Negative Facework and Other-Directed Positive and Negative Facework. In other words we have the possibility of four major facework goals. Further complexities are introduced by recognising the possibility that utterances of actors can be multifunctional (e.g. Baxter, 1984; Craig et al., 1986; Farrell, 1983). Two different types of multifunctionality have been identified. First, different facework strategies can be expressed sequentially in the same utterance. This is illustrated by the utterance, 'I must be dumb. Could you help me with this?'. Here the speaker's strategy appears to be directed to his own positive face and the other's negative face, consecutively. Second, different strategies can be expressed simultaneously in the same utterance. A simultaneous effect is illustrated in the utterance 'Did you deliberately lie to that person or not?'. Here the speaker appears to be directing her strategy simultaneously towards the other's positive face (self-image) and negative face (the question forcing a reply and therefore constraining freedom of action). Thus, in any interpretation procedure we must allow for multiple facework goals being served simultaneously and/or sequentially. Many facework strategies, however, are not as clear as the examples given above. The strategies can be expressed in either a direct or indirect way (Brown & Levinson, 1978; Haverkate, 1986). It is the indirect expressions, in particular, that give rise to many problems of interpretation on the part of both listeners and observers. It is also this indirectness that allows actors in conversations some flexibility. Indirectness can be used in such a way that face is not 'lost' if alternative interpretations are made by the other. Indirectness can also be used such that the actor is unlikely to be directly threatened for a certain implication. Attempts to identify facework strategies have, in fact, highlighted a universal feature of all talkits ambiguity. A further feature that needs consideration is the temporal characteristics of strategies. The very notion of strategy implies that a goal is desired. However, it is not necessarily the case that the goal is an immediate one or that the effect of the strategy can be discerned immediately. In these circumstances it is not necessarily possible to even determine if a strategy has been employed. The very nature of conversations makes it possible for, say, a superficially simple and non-threatening sequence of utterances to occur which, over time, has a cumulative face-threatening or enhancing effect. Thus it is being argued that the temporal context of utterances is a determining factor in strategy identification and goal assessment. The importance of temporal context is well recognised by conversational analysts as is the importance of context in general. The context-dependent nature of facework, in particular, has been documented by Craig et al. (1986) and Shimanoff (1977).

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Figure 1 Facework strategy options

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On the basis of the reformulated concept of facework developed above, sixteen possible facework options can be discerned. These options are illustrated in Figure 1. Following the arguments of Harré (1979), it is assumed that the major goal of all facework is the generation of respect for self and the avoidance of contempt. It is also assumed that contempt can be given as part of the other's facework strategies and incurred by the self in certain circumstances. The means whereby the goals can be achieved can be direct or indirect. Direct facework strategies oriented towards contempt can incorporate Brown & Levinson's (1978) 'bald, on-record' face threatening acts. Direct facework strategies oriented towards respect can include some of Brown & Levinson's politeness strategies. Less direct approaches to facework are seen as being less extreme along the respect-contempt dimension. These can include Brown & Levinson's 'off-the-record' strategies as well as other of their politeness strategies. It is proposed that the facework effects of the various strategies fall into one of four categories, depending on their directness or indirectness and the degree of respect or contempt. Depreciating or aggravating the face of the self or other is enacted in a directed, unambiguous and contemptuous manner. Threatening the face of self or other is brought about by indirect strategies indicating some degree of contempt, or lack of respect. Protecting the face of self or other is brought about by indirect strategies indicating some degree of respect. Mitigating or enhancing the face of the other or the self is brought about directly by politeness and other strategies that indicate respect. Figure 1 also indicates the indeterminate and possibly cumulative effect of some types of utterances. As discussed above, it is possible for some utterances to appear superficially as if no facework is involved but, over time, they could have a cumulative effect on the face of the self or the other. This potentially cumulative effect is indicated by the shaded lines moving into either the 'Protect' or 'Threaten' category. It is also possible for some utterances to involve no apparent facework. These are utterances in which the informational goals appear so salient that any facework goals are indeterminate. The 16 strategies are analogous to Brown & Levinson's (1978) notion of superstrategies, although they are derived from a different conceptual schema and are ordered logically along a conceptual continuum. Various specific micro, or output (Craig et al., 1986), strategies can be used to bring about the desired macro effect. And as argued earlier, the one utterance may contain more than one strategy. Strategies may co-occur or consecutively occur in any one act. Thus, the options as presented are not meant to indicate an either/or arrangement. Instead it is possible for a number of strategic 'pathways' to be woven at any open time and over time and thus for multiple goals to be met. Inference Procedures Given the complexity of facework dynamics, it would seem obvious that the reliable identification of facework strategies in conversations is difficult, if not impossible. In the terse words of Hewes et al., 'interpreting messages is a dirty business' (1985: 299). Not only are messages inherently ambiguous, but they can

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be intentionally misleading. They can serve more than one goal at the same time and can serve different goals over time. The intent can be expressed directly or indirectly and the effect can be immediate, cumulative or even indeterminate. The above recognition leaves us in a difficult situation. Given that discourse is inherently indeterminate, how can we proceed to validly describe any type of strategy, let alone specific facework strategies? Craig et al. clearly recognised this problem when they proposed that we need 'a scheme of interpretation that shows how a hearer or observer can recognize the intention to use a [facework] strategy. The extent to which such a scheme could be constructed in principle is limited, however, by the (unknown) extent to which discourse is genuinely ambiguous' (1986: 453). This problem is one faced by all studies attempting to classify, or assign meaning to, discourse. However, it is not one that is always recognised as such. Traditional approaches to coding communicative behaviour have assumed that inconsistencies in the classification arise from poorly conceived coding and training proceduresnot from the inherent amiguity of the phenomenon being coded. When we start from the position that all discourse is inherently indeterminate, different problems arise and different solutions are required. It is recognised that the debates about validity and reliability of classifying communicative acts have a long and complex history and it is beyond the scope of this paper to enter that fray. Nevertheless, it is the intention to propose an approach that deviates from some traditional requirements, while recognising others. In essence, we need an interpretive schema that allows us to systematically infer possible facework strategies. From their own experience and that of others, Craig et al. (1986) propose that there are five requirements for a scheme of facework strategies: (a) it separates strategies oriented to speaker (self) face from those oriented to hearer (other) face; (b) it distinguishes between strategies geared to positive face from those geared to negative face; (c) it includes aggravating as well as mitigating moves; (d) it is typological in form; and (e) it describes strategies at both a functional level of analysis and at the level of linguistic outputs. Here such a scheme will be described that, along with a set of inference procedures, meets all bar one of their requirements. This interpretive schema was developed using discourses from court hearings. The data consisted of audiotapes and transcripts of 18 complete court hearings in two types of courts (Supreme and Petty Sessions) and covering criminal and civil trials, the focus for analysis was on the communication process which occurred between judge, barrister and witness (including defendants, plaintiffs, accused, expert witnesses, etc.) during the major episodes of examination and cross-examination. These data provided over 100 hours of discourse. Examples and illustrations of facework to be presented below are taken from these data. A further full test of the applicability of the schema to ongoing, extended discourse was made using two full cases. These cases comprised 16 hours of courtroom discourse with approximately 2,300 utterances of four barristers, nine witnesses and two judges. In the preliminary development of the interpretative scheme, classifications were done using the decision-tree shown in Figure 1. The unit for analysis was

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taken as the full utterance of any actor, regardless of whether the utterance was coherent or complete. Attempts at interruption were also included; these being taken as direct facework strategies aimed minimally at threatening the other's negative face. It was further decided that any particular utterance was not necessarily an immediate facework micro-strategy. Where a category did not appear to have any immediate impact it was coded in the 'indeterminate' category. Third, any particular utterance could be coded more than once. Specifically, it was assumed that there could be dual-effect strategies (directed towards self and other) and/or dual-face strategies (directed towards positive and negative face); i.e. multiple face goals. A series of micro-strategies were identified as belonging to each of the sixteen categories described in Figure 1. The list of these micro-strategies is not complete and requires further development in other contexts. The descriptive scheme, as developed from courtroom strategies, is presented in Figure 2. This scheme is only intended to define exhaustive classes of micro-strategies. The strategies included in any one cell are not an exhaustive set of the class; rather, they are illustrative of the class and represent the more frequent micro-strategies identified in the courtroom data being presented here. Each micro-strategy class is defined by the nature of the effect to the type of face and the actor affected. These are the last three levels in the strategy options given in Figure 1. The indeterminate effect options also described in Figure 1 are captured in Figure 2 in the central diamond. A number of the examples given in each micro-strategy class are identical to those proposed by Brown & Levinson (1978); e.g. 'to hedge commitment', 'to use conventional indirectness', and 'to notice, attend to'. In this scheme, however, they have been allocated to positions along the respect/contempt dimension. Other examples break down or expand Brown & Levinson's categories and allocate them to different cells. For example, the notion of 'hedging' that Brown & Levinson proposed is seen here to fall into two different cells according to what is being hedged. Further examples are additional to any in Brown & Levinson's scheme; in particular, the examples with their indeterminate effect given in the central diamond. The category descriptions contained in Figure 2, however, are insufficient, in practice, to infer strategies. Three specific procedures have been developed to aid further in strategy identification: (a) episode location, (b) distinctions between positive and negative face, and (c) connections between linguistic output and function. The notion of an episode is a familiar one in the communication process analysis literature and is premised on the observation that members of society typically are able to see particular segments of conversations as distinct wholes (Gumperz, 1972). A number of theorists (e.g. Pearce & Cronen, 1980) have argued that episode identification is important in understanding the meaning assigned to any particular act. In order to recognise what facework strategy could be in operation it is first necessary to know in what episode it is taking place. In addition, the goal that appears to be achieved at the end of any particular episode is an important, retrospective clue to the nature of the facework that has occurred. In the case of courtroom discourse, these episodes are typically structured around the legal

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Figure 2 Descriptions of facework micro-strategies

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points the barrister is attempting to make. When one has been established to the barrister's satisfaction, or when cannot be, the topic is changedhence marking a new episode. Distinguishing between positive and negative facework is partly a function of the context in which the interaction occurs and the goals of the interaction. In the context of the courts, the linkage between speaking and acting role complicates the distinction. The barrister is always asking questions and thus always, at least according to Brown & Levinson (1978, 1987), constraining the freedom of action (negative face) of the witness. In this sense, every question on the part of the barrister can be taken as otherdirected negative facework. Yet is is quite frequently the case that their questions do more than this. It has proved important in the present courtroom analysis to make a distinction between questions and answers regarding 'facts' and those regarding rationality of and motivation for actions. This distinction between facts and motivations and rationality aids in making distinctions between negative and positive facework. Questioning or defending the rationality of actions has direct implications for the person's positive facea rational person being more credible than an irrational one. Questioning and explaining about concrete facts, on the other hand, is more likely to be only directed towards negative face. This distinction, however, cannot be a firm one. There will be instances where a direct, factual question can also have demeanour implications. For example the question, 'did you drink the entire bottle of Scotch?' is not only imposing on the other's negative face by asking for factual information, but also the other's positive face by suggesting alcohol indulgence. We must also recognise that this distinction between facts and motivations and rationality may not be generally applicable in other contexts. But, its relevance to the courtroom is clear. In courtroom parlance, information on what happened is concerned with establishing the 'facts of the matter'; while information on the reasons and rationality of the witnesses is concerned with demeanour, or self-presentation of the witness. And, it is both 'facts' and demeanour that play a role in judicial decision-making. The final procedure issue concerns the link between linguistic output and function. As Craig et al. (1986) argue, a specification of this link is important in reliably identifying and coding strategies. This is, in fact, the greatest problem of any scheme of classification of conversational data. How exactly, for example, is the mitigation of the positive face of the other achieved in practice? The ambiguities and uncertainties of language use mean this relationship between function and syntax will always be problematic. In fact, it has been argued (e.g. Austin, 1962) that there is no characteristic linguistic form for any function; there is no direct link between syntax and pragmatics. Nevertheless, in developing the conceptual schema and testing it on instances of courtroom discourse data, some crude guidelines emerged. It is proposed that there are three different types of utterances that can be identified according to some linguistic criterion and that these bear some relation to different types of faceworkbut not necessarily a consistent or precise one. The linguistic criterion that acts to distinguish between the types of utterances is that of direct-indirectness. Kearsley (1976), in his review of taxonomies of questions,

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identifies the direct-indirect dimension as the major distinguishing feature of all questions. According to Kearsley, indirect questions are declaratives which contain an embedded, partial interrogative; while direct questions are sentences with a clear interrogative character. Goffman (1976) and Robinson & Rackstraw (1972) show that this direct-indirect dimension is equally applicable to answers. Basically, a direct reply is one which has lexical continuity with the question, is relevant to the question, is non-tautological, not obviously false and is informative to the questioner. These are analogous to the characteristics that Grice (1975) uses for defining maximally efficient utterances. The first of the three groups of utterances is one that directly asks a question of simple description or fact or gives an answer to that question asked. These utterances include the direct closed and open question (see Kearsley, 1976) and answers that directly respond to the question either with a yes/no, an alternative or some extension. Such utterances are concerned only with what happened or with description and are unlikely to have immediate facework effects. (A question like 'Did you shoot your mother? ' is one of the obvious exceptions referred to in the third paragraph above.) Direct utterances, without obvious facework effects, include simple questions like 'what did you see?' or 'did you see the car?' and straight answers like 'I saw the car' or 'I saw the car leave the drive and turn left'. These utterances do not have any immediate facework effect and are classified within the diamond in Figure 2. However, they can have a cumulative effect and a different cumulative effect depending on their syntactic structure. A series of open, direct questions gives the actor more freedom to manoeuvre in the interaction than does a series of closed, direct questions. Thus closed, direct questions are seen as having a potential cumulative effect to threaten the negative face of the other while open direct questions are seen to offer some protection to the other's negative face wants. Similarly, limited maximally efficient (see Grice, 1975) answers are seen as having a potential cumulative effect to threaten the self's negative face, while direct, but extended answers are seen as offering some possible protection to the selfs negative face. The second group of utterances is one that is again direct but whose content is explicitly concerned with facework, not just simple facts. These utterances have an immediate facework effect and fall within the two extreme columns in Figure 2. They include such direct questions as 'You don't expect me to believe that do you?' that challenge the other's rationality and therefore depreciates their positive face. They also include such direct responses like 'I am an honourable person' that directly attempt to enhance the person's positive face. The third type of utterance covers a range of indirect and 'inefficient' questions and answers. They say less or more than is needed and/or they do so ambiguously, indirectly or unclearly. Included in this type are the range of politeness markers identified by Brown & Levinson (1978): all utterances with politeness markers saying more than is necessary in maximally efficient terms. However, it is important to point out there are other forms of indirect utterances included here that do not contain politeness markers. For example, the question as a statement is indirect simply because it does not put the question directly; not because it is hedged or contains more than is necessary in other ways. These indirect utter-

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ances can have an effect on the positive or negative face of the self or other. As with all types, the face that is affected is determined by the content of the utterance. However, because of the indirect nature of the utterance it is proposed that the effect will be interpreted as less extreme than direct, immediate facework utterances. This is reflected in Figure 2 where the indirect utterances are contained in the two central columns. The scheme, then, along with the inference procedures captures all bar one of Craig et al.'s (1986) requirements. The scheme, while typological in form, does not meet the joint criteria of being mutually exclusive and exhaustive. The scheme, as portrayed in Figure 2, is exhaustive in its super-strategy categories, however, these strategies are not construed as mutually exclusive; they cannot be if we are to capture the possibility of multiple goals. It is recognised that this creates problems for some statistical analyses but does not exclude quantification altogether. The choice is between simplifying the model for particular quantitative needs and attempting to capture the real multifunctionality of utterances. Here, the decision has been for the latter. Some Micro-strategy Characteristics in Courts A major distinction has been made between positive and negative facework. This distinction will be used here in describing some key features of the different strategies as inferred from the courtroom data. The simplest micro-strategies for engaging in negative facework are those described in the central square (including the diamond) of Figure 2. They are those most easily interpretable using linguistic features alone. The key distinguishing feature for this is the dimension of directness-indirectness described in the previous section. To illustrate consider the following ways in which questions can be asked: B1: What did you see? B2: Could you tell us what happened please? B3: And I think you then saw a car? B4: Did you see the car? B5: Was it a stationwagon or sedan? B6: You then saw the car? With each of these questions there is an increasing constraint on the answer options. The first two, open direct questions give the other the most latitude and even allow for the possibility of the other to redirect the conversation. B 1 and B2 would initially be interpreted as PNO* (protect negative face of the other). Here the asterisk indicates the potential for it to be an act of protecting the negative face of the other. B3 includes a hedge ('I think . .') which acts to qualify the question and gives the other options to answer. Under these circumstances, it can be interpreted as PNO. B4 and 5, because of their closedness, are more readily interpreted as having the potential for threatening the negative face of the other (TNO*). B6 puts the question as a statement and further restricts the other, seeming to make it a clearer case of TNO.

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Similar considerations can be given to the answers to such questions. Consider the following possibilities: W1: I saw a car. W2: No. W3: I saw a car coming down the road and then this person started to wave at the driver in a funny way. W4: A sedan. W5: Well I wasn't sure, but it might have been a stationwagon. W1 could be a direct maximally efficient answer to B1 or B6. It has the potential to threaten the actor's freedom of action by complying with the direction of the questioner and providing no option for topic change on the actor's part. It is interpreted as being a TNS*. W2 and W4 are similarly direct, maximally efficient answers that could be in response to B4 and B5, respectively, and are also interpreted as TNS*. If W3 is taken as an answer to B1 it is a direct answer with an elaboration. It includes sufficient information to redirect the questioner and, as such, potentially protects the actor's negative face (PNS*) by opening up options. W5 as an answer to B5 does not directly answer the question and contains two hedges ('wasn't sure' and 'might have been'). As such it is interpreted as momentarily being PNS because the actor is not making a commitment. More extreme negative facework strategies are described in the two end columns of Figure 2. These strategies are more difficult to illustrate with utterances out of context (especially without the extra-linguistic aspects contained on recordings). It is possible, however, to indicate some features by considering the following courtroom example, between a judge (J) and witness: Example I (MNS) W1: Your honour, I wish to say something. (ANO) J1: Just answer the question Mrs Fray. (MNS) W2: But he didn't/ (ANO) J2: You must answer his question. You cannot just say what you like. (ANS) W3: Yes sir. In Example 1 the witness is attempting to take control of the direction of questioning and assert her right to say something. This could be inferred as an attempt to mitigate her negative face. The judge orders the witness to answer the question, thereby curtailing her options and aggravating her negative face. The witness continues to attempt to assert her rights and refuses the direction of the judge but after a further order she submits and thus aggravates her own negative face. This example illustrates the need to consider utterances in sequential context in order to interpret the more extreme aspects of negative facework. Other types of utterances, however, can at least give cues in their linguistic features alone. Consider the following: B1: I put it to you that you did see her. B2: You must answer my question.

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In both B1 and B2, the linguistic features in italics indicate a forceful insistence on the part of the barrister for the witness to answer. Thus, in both cases they could be inferred as an ANO, provided the ensuing content is in keeping with the initiating phrase. Some replies to these questions could be: W1: No, that is definitely not the case. W2: I emphatically deny that. In both instances, the response is a firm denial of the claim and thus an assertion on the part of the witness. These utterances could be inferred as mitigating the negative face of the self (MNS). It is also likely that the utterances, in context, could be seen as a dual strategy that also had the effect of aggravating the negative face of the other. This will be described further in the next section. At the other extreme, it is also possible for questioners to mitigate the effects of negative face infringement by politeness markers of apologies: B3: I'm sorry to have to ask,but . . . B4: I do not wish to distress you, but . . . In both B3 and B4, the barrister is apologising for having to ask an embarrassing/ unpleasant question and thus both could be inferred as an MNO. The inference process is more difficult for positive facework. In the courtroom data, positive facework almost always occurred within a multifunctional utterance. This observation makes sense when considered in the light of the discourse rules in court (see Penman, 1987) and the logic of the interpretative schema. Any question which has a positive face implication will also have a negative one, by virtue of it being a question. Thus, any responses to these multifunctional questions, even if only appearing to respond to the positive face implications, inevitably respond to the negative face implications at the same time. In what follows, the negative face implications will be ignored as we explore some of the features of positive facework in courts. The major feature for inferring positive facework out of sequential context is the content of the utterances. In the courtroom data, the major indicators of positive facework are utterances about the rationality of actions and the motivation for them; both rationality and motivation being taken as integral to self image. When part of questions, the following italicised phrases can be cues to the possibility of positive facework directed against the other: B1: Was there any reason why you did not help the man? B2: Why did you throw a punch at someone you never knew? B3: Do you think it appropriate for someone to walk away from that? B4: And it offended you that he swore at you, did it? B5: And then he grabbed you, you say? B6: Were you affected by alcohol/had you been drinking? While the context in which these questions are asked is critical to the final interpretation, the italicised phrases are important indicators of possibilities. In B 1-4, the barrister is setting a possible challenge to the witness' reasonableness of

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action. In B5, the you say is taken as putting the witness on notice that the barrister is skeptical about their claim, thus also setting up a possible challenge. On the basis of these utterances, out of context, it is possible to suggest that they all have the potential to act as TPO. B6 is the major exception to the content criteria for positive facework. A 'factual' question is being asked but the implications for being drunk in our society is such that it is a direct challenge to self image. B6, then, is also a potential TPO. Typical responses to such TPO's involve the assertion or defence of rationality, or the giving up of it: W1: There was a damn good reason, he told me to get lost. W2: Well, he started it. W3: I suppose not . . . W4: Of course it offended me, any reasonable person would be. W5: Well, not really, but he asked for it. W6: I suppose you could say I was a bit drunk at the time. In W1 and W4, the witness is defending the rationality of his action. These utterances can be interpreted as PPS. In W2, W3 and W5 the witness concedes that his action was perhaps not the most sensible thing and as such we can infer the potential TPS. In W6, the witness admits that he could have been a bit drunk and again this is a potential TPS. The more extreme forms of positive facework (depreciating and enhancing) conducted towards the self were rare in the data being used here and were only inferred as part of very complex strategy configurations. More extreme positive facework directed towards the other occurred somewhat more frequently, but again always as part of complex configurations. The one exception to this, though, was the clear and direct accusation by the barrister that the witness was lying. Such utterances were always interpreted as DPO. In order to explore these more complex aspects of facework strategies, however, it is necessary to consider the sequential context. Facework in Action The most frequent form of interaction in the courtroom starts with the barrister using one of five different question forms: the direct open questions (e.g. 'what happened?'), the direct closed question (e.g. 'did you see the car?'), the question as a statement (e.g. 'you then saw the car?'), the polite open question (e.g. 'could you please tell us what happened next?') or the hedged question (e.g. 'and I think you then saw the car?'). By the very nature of courtroom interaction it is inevitably the barrister who starts and finishes any particular episode, so it is the barrister's actions and topic of questioning that most frequently define the episode. Once questioning has commenced, the witness has some capacity to negotiate. But that negotiation is set within the particular logic of the interaction and the broader logic of the rules of courtroom discourse (see Penman, 1987). One inevitable consequence of this logic is that the barrister, in initiating the sequence

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Page 31 with a question, is also usually initiating the sequence with a threat to the freedom of action (negative face) of the witness. And within the rules of courts, the witness is obligated to answer. Typically, witnesses either comply directly with the questions or hedge responses protecting against the threat to negative face. However, as will be shown below, they are able to do more than just this. The three extracts below are taken from an extended episode in which an alleged assault victim is being cross-examined about the incident up to and including the alleged assault: Example 2 (TNO*) B1: Did you call out for help at any stage? (PNS*) W1: Only when the other taxi driver came through which was only a couple of minutes after the incident. (TNO) B2: What, so the the other taxi driver arrived more or less at the beginning of the incident, did he? (PNS) W2: Only a couple of minutes after the beginning of the incident. Example 3 (TNO) B3: And I suppose you were angry and such like when you went across the road? (PPS/TNO) W3: I was not angry, I was upset. (TPO/TNO) B4: What, because you saw this shouting match between these two fellows? (TNS) W4: Yes. (TPO/TNO) B5: Neither of whom you knew? (TNS/TPS) W5: No. Example 4 (TPO/TNO) B6: And you say he hit you hard six or seven times, or something? (PNS*) W6: Five or six times. (TPO/TNO) B7: What, you counted these as they hit you, or is this your recollection? (TPS/TNS) W7: My recollection. In Example 2, the questioning is about facts and both questions and answers appear to be directed towards negative facework. The closed direct question of B1, appears to act as a potential threat to the negative face of the other, giving only limited options for answer. W1, however, qualified the possible 'yes/no' response by giving additional information, thus seeming to protect his negative face. The next question at B2, still acts as a threat to the negative other by being closed and the further qualification in W2 acts as another protecting of negative face. This pattern changes in Example 3, where the questions are not about facts, but motivations. In B3, the question asserts a motivation for the witness and as such minimally acts as a threat to the negative face of the witness. In W3, the witness disagrees with the barrister's presupposition and gives his own reason, thus appearing to

protect his positive face and at the same time threaten the negative face of the barrister in his denial. The barrister at B4 seems to be quite clearly

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Page 32 questioning the witness' motivation and by B5 this is made even more apparent. Both of these utterances, then, appear to be threatening the other's positive face. The same pattern can be inferred in Example 4. In both B6 and B7 the barrister is questioning the claims of the witness. At W7 the witness appears to have been led into threatening his own positive face by conceding that it is 'only' his recollection. The examples above illustrate a number of important points. First, we can identify similar linguistic patterns in the utterances at B2, B4 and B7 where there is a closed question commencing with a what. However, the content differs. In the first utterance, B2, the question is about a fact whereas B4 and B7 are questioning rationality and motivation. It was claimed earlier that this content distinction aids in distinguishing between negative and positive facework. The responses of the witness and the ensuing dialogue illustrate the different impact of these types of questions and lend support to the use of the distinction. A second important point concerns the need to consider the utterances in context. The answers at W4 and W5 are superficially simple responses to closed questions, but in the light of the ensuing cross-examination covered over the three extracts, it appears that they are far more than this. The witness appears to be being pushed in a direction by the barrister so that he ends up 'conceding points', thus threatening his positive face. That witnesses frequently do recognise face threats and act to protect themselves is further illustrated in the extended extract below. This extract is from a case of alleged theft. One of the victims (not a native-English speaker) is being cross-examined about the nature of the insurance taken out on his house and contents. He has been asked in three different ways whether he was insured against theft. This extract starts with the barrister asking the same question a fourth time. Example 5 (ANO) B1: So you were not insured? (PPS/PNS/TNO) W1: I never thought robbers were going to come to rob the place. (ANO) B2: I am asking you whether you were insured against the house? (MNS/TNO) W2: I just give you the right answer. (TNO) B3: You were not insured against theft? (MNS/PPS/TNO) W3: I just give you the right answer. My house is worth $120,000. I do not believe insurance and I put $60,000 on it and I have $30,000 to $50,000 jewellry and clothes and everything and I do it for $15,000 because we do not expect to come robbers into my house. (TNS/PPO/TNO*) B4: You do not expect robbers to come into your house? (PPS/PNS*) W4: No for burn or anything. We just give them for cover something (DPO/TNO) B5: But you kept the pistol there in case robbers came into the house, you were saying? (TPS) W5: When they come that is the reason we keep them.

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(ANO/TPO) B6: Did you expect people to come in and rob your house or not? (TPS/TNS*) W6: No. B7: Nothing further your honour. This episode is typical of tactics in cross-examination. At the beginning of the episode the witness appears determined to give his rationale for his behaviour and to resist the line of questioning of the barrister. The barrister appears equally determined to extract the information he wants. The extract above opens with an apparent aggravated threat to the witness' negative face; the 'so' acting to aggravate the threat by building on concessions already made by the witness earlier. The witness again gives a rationalisation, thus seeming to protect his positive face and his negative face at the same time. And in not answering the barrister's question, and thus resisting the line of questioning, the witness also seems to threaten the negative face of the barrister. The exchange continues with the barrister aggravating the face threat further and the witness mitigating this threat and protecting himself while continuing to constrain the barrister's freedom of action. At B4 the barrister appears to have accepted the witness' rationale and in doing so threatens his own negative self as well as acting to protect the positive self of the witness by attending to his arguments. But, in asking for confirmation, using a statement as question, the barrister is still potentially threatening the negative face of the witness. At B5, however, the apparent sympathy of the barrister is exposed as a trap. Here the barrister points to the witness' inconsistency and thus depreciates the witness' positive face and threatens his negative face. The termination of the episode in B7 indicates the barrister has achieved his goal of exposing the inconsistencies in the witness' explanation and thereby making him appear to be irrational. This extract well illustrates the problems of inferring facework. If the dialogue was taken only one step at a time, it would either appear as commonplace or nonsensical (depending on the point in time). Sense is made of the ensuing exchange only after the episode is ended. It is by moving backward through the retrospective context, that it is possible to develop a coherent account for the exchange as a whole. Some Observations In a preliminary assessment of the scheme, all the examination and cross-examination episodes from two full cases were analysed using the approach described above. This comprised some 16 hours of courtroom interaction with approximately 2,300 utterances of four barristers, nine witnesses and two judges. In working with the two complete court cases, the major concern was to demonstrate the applicability of the approach to extended natural discourse and to identify any clear trends in the differential usage of categories that could aid in further developing this approach to the interpretation of facework. The analysis was done by the author and her assistant and all differences were reconciled.

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The first observation that can be made is that all types of strategies were employed, even in this specific court context. There appeared, however, to be a strong relationship between the actor's role and the type of strategies employed. Witnesses' facework strategies were directed primarily towards their selves, while barristers' facework strategies were directed primarily towards the witness. And in most instances, this facework appeared to be concerned with negative face, not positive. Given the nature of the discourse rules in court (see Penman, 1987) this is to be expected, especially given the relationship between role (Barrister/ Witness) and type of speaking turn. The process is typically one of the barrister constraining the freedom of action of the witness. The witness certainly makes attempts to deal with this constraint by protecting his/her negative face quite frequently. However, this is not always the case. As the earlier examples illustrated, it is quite possible for witnesses' strategies to threaten their negative face rather than protect it. Although direct positive facework strategies were, on the whole, far less common, one possible trend is suggested: that that barrister primarily threatens the positive face of the witness while the witness is just as likely to threaten as to protect his/her own positive face. Most of the multifunctional utterances appeared in the major episodes of cross-examination. It was also observed that witnesses appear to use more multifunctional utterances than barristers. Where barristers did employ multifunctional utterances, they were typically directed towards the witness and typically antagonising both faces of the witness. Similarly, the witnesses' multifunctional utterances were directed primarily towards their own faces. However, as was also illustrated in the examples, the more complex facework of witnesses is not necessarily to their advantage. In protecting negative face, they sometimes act to threaten their own positive face in the same utterance. The combinations of strategies also reinforces an earlier observation, that witnesses' facework is more complex than barristers'. No triple strategy utterances were identified for barristers as they were for witnesses. Again, this patterning of multifunctional utterances would seem to arise from the adversarial nature of the courtroom process: where the witness is suspect, and not the barrister, and where the witness is directly exposed to this suspicion under cross-examination. The preliminary analyses of the two full court cases also provides us with the basis for making sense of a phenomenon described in other studies. Danet (1980), in her extensive review of the literature on language use in courts, documents the degree of personal stress experienced by witnesses in courts (regardless of what type of witness they are). In the light of the observations presented above, we can account for this stress in terms of facework manoeuvres. The witness experiences stress because of his or her limited capacity to negotiate positive and negative face wants. This is further exacerbated by the barrister's almost unlimited capacity to threaten and aggravate the witness' face. The more frequent use of multifunctional utterances on the part of witnesses could also be seen to be part of this stress experience. It is being suggested here, then, that the preliminary observations and application of the schema are congruent with other observations about the nature of court and with the participants' experiences of the communication process in that context.

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Conclusions The major aim of this paper has been to make some contribution to the development of a coherent conceptual framework for understanding multiple facework goals in ongoing discourse. In doing so it also has been necessary to develop an appropriate methodology for inferring facework strategies. In fact, the development of the conceptual framework and the methodology has been an intertwined, iterative process. In developing the methodology, consideration has been given to the problems identified by Craig et al. (1986). The difficulties inherent in this type of conversational analysis are well described in Craig et al.'s paper. This work has been no exception. Given the inherently problematic nature of communication, all analyses are similarly problematic. In these circumstances, the aim is the development of a systematic approach to interpretation that allows for a coherent account of why conversations go the way they do. In the first section of the paper a coherent account of the dynamics of facework was developed that extended Brown & Levinson's (1978) earlier work. This reformulation has allowed for a schema that can potentially account for all facework possibilities. There is still a need to explore further the characteristics of particular micro-strategies used in facework in noncourt contexts. There is a particular need to explore the implications of this interpretative schema in contexts in which the question-answer format is not so strictly enforced and in which the format is not fixed to roles. It could well be the case that in other, less formal, contexts an additional range of micro-strategies can be inferred. Nevertheless, the analysis of the courtroom discourse here provides support for the conceptual approach. In the use of this interpretative schema on courtroom discourse, a number of observations were made that lend support to the conceptual framework and indicate directions for future research. In the first instance, the data support the importance of distinguishing between self- and other-directed facework: strategies do vary depending on whose face is being threatened. Moreover because the distinction between self and other facework was maintained in the analysis it was possible to identify the role of another potentially important variable - that of Role/Relative Power. From the present data, it could be suggested that the role of Barrister, with higher Power, contributes to the use of predominantly other-directed strategies while the role of Witness, with lower Power, contributes to the use of predominantly self-oriented strategies. The current data do not allow a separation of role from Power and further work could well explore the differences and implications. The present work also has demonstrated the importance of distinguishing between positive and negative face, in accord with Brown & Levinson (1978, 1987). There would seem little doubt that participants act as if both positive and negative facework does occur in any given situation. In addition, the present findings would suggest that the nature of the situation has a possible influence on the salience of either positive or negative facework. In the courtroom context, negative facework was more salient than positiveat least in terms of quantity of not importance. Investigations in other contexts could shed further light on the role of context in enacting and interpreting facework strategies.

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Third, the present study also verifies the claim that utterances can be multifunctional in terms of facework (e.g. Baxter, 1984; Craig et al., 1986). This supports the decision in the current work to allow for this possibility and argues against the development of a mutually exclusive classification scheme. Moreover, in allowing for multifunctionality of utterances, it has been possible to identify further elements in the dynamics of facework. There is some indication from the present data that there is a link between multifunctionality and the nature of the episode and the role/power of the participants. In the courtroom context, the use of multifunctional utterances appeared to have some positive relationship with cross-examination episodes and with the witness/low power role. It could be postulated from this that facework may become more complex in stress situations over which the participant has little control. Again, future studies could explore this possibility. The nature of the facework done in courts quite clearly reflected the tension between cooperation and antagonism proposed by Craig et al. (1986). In fact, it could be argued that the courtroom context is ideal to demonstrate this tension. The very sructure of interaction in courts, divided into examination and cross-examination, reflects a deliberate sequence of cooperative and antagonistic episodes. That a great deal of antagonistic facework was inferred is to be expected given this structure and the general adversarial nature of the trial system. However, antagonistic or face-threatening acts also occurred with some frequency in examination episodes, where one would expect the fullest of cooperation. This finding raises strong doubts about Brown & Levinson's (1978) assumption that social situations are, with a few exceptions, cooperatively based. This has serious implications for all work based on Grice's (1975) Cooperative Principle. Although it may be commonsense to assume that conversations are cooperatively based, various attempts to demonstrate this in practice indicate it is far less so than assumed. Churchill (1978), Craig et al. (1986), Keenan (1976), Mura (1983) and Penman (1987) present empirical data that argue against such an overriding cooperative principle. If one takes the notion of facework seriously, there are good reasons why cooperation cannot be the overriding goal, face-needs of self-overriding needs of cooperation with the other. And given that antagonistic facework occurred even in the presumed cooperative episodes of examination, we must indeed take the notion of facework seriouslyor how else could we account for such an observation. However, there is more to facework than simply antagonising or cooperating. As argued in the introduction, notions of antagonism and cooperation are other-directed concepts. In order to be able to account for self-orientated facework as well, a broader construct of respect and contempt was developed. The value of this broader dimension has been supported in two different ways. In the first instance, it has allowed us to conceptualise the possibility of actors being either respectful to or contemptuous of their own as well as the other's faces. This possibility was verified with the findings that witnesses in particular are almost as likely to threaten as to protect their own faces and that in multifunctional utterances complex mixtures of respect and contempt towards self and other occur. Second, there is a striking correspondence between the contextual, nonverbal indicators of

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respect and contempt in courtrooms and the verbal play between actors. The courtroom context is one in which the public and ceremonial display channels respect towards the court and away from witnesses. The verbal analysis parallels this. In the very structure of courtroom discourse the witness, by virtue of his/her role alone, is treated minimally without respect and often with contempt. This was shown, amongst other data, in the strong disparity between the other-directed strategies of the barrister and the self-oriented strategies of the witness. It is suggested here, then, that Harré's (1979: 15) proposition that 'the most fundamental of all structural principles around which human life is organized is that which informs the institutions of respect and contempt' could well be worthy of further exploration. In the words of Craig et al. (1986, p. 463), 'an adequate theory of facework must start with a more complex understanding of social life'. The present paper has attempted to do this in two ways. In the first instance, facework is not something that we do some of the time or something we do in certain contexts only. Rather facework has been taken as central to the nature of our relationships with people. As such, a complex set of dynamics has been described and demonstrated. Most importantly we have demonstrated the need to always allow for the possibility of multiple goals in discourse. This paper has also presented a more complex means of understanding social life. Rather than following a traditional methodology that assumes the certainty and singularity of meaning, we have commenced with the assumption that meaning is inherently problematic and manifold. The end result is an interpretative approach that, in its very application, is a crude model of how participants in the discourse process enact and infer their own and other's facework manoeuvres. That it is complex and uncertain is only in keeping with the reality. References Austin, J (1962) How to Do Things with Words. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Baxter, L. A. (1984) An investigation of compliance-gaining as politeness. Human Communication Research 10,427-56. Bochner, A. P. (1982) On the efficacy of openness in close relationships. In M. Burgoon (ed) Communication Yearbook 5. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. (1978) Universals in language usage: Politeness phenomena. In E. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness: Strategies in Social Interaction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (1987) Politeness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cambridge University Press. Churchill, L. (1978) Questioning Strategies in Socio-linguistics. Rowley, Mass.: Newbury House. Coupland, N., Grainger, K. and Coupland, J. (1988) Politeness in context: Intergenerational issues. Language in Society 17, 25362. Craig, R. T., Tracy, K. and Spisak, F. (1986) The discourse of requests: Assessment of a politeness approach. Human Communication Research 12, 437-68. Danet, B. (1980) Language in the legal process. Law & Society Review 14, 445-564. Farrell, T. B. (1983) Aspects of coherence in conversation and rhetoric. In R. Craig and K. Tracy (eds) Conversational Coherence. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Goffman, E. (1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor Books.

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(1971) Relations in Public. New York: Harper & Row. (1972) Interaction Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behaviour. Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin. (1976) Replies and responses. Language and Society 5, 273-313. Grice, J. (1975) Logic and conversations. In P. Cole and J. Morgan (eds) Syntax and Semantics: Vol. 3 Speech Acts. New York: Academic Press. Gumperz, J. (1972) Introduction. In J. Gumperz and D. Hymes (eds) Directions in Sociolinguistics. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Harré, R. (1979) Social Being. Oxford: Blackwell. Haverkate, H. (1986) A model for analyzing politeness strategies in verbal interaction. Paper presented at the XIth World Congress of Sociology, New Dehli. Hewes, D., Graham, M., Doelger, J. and Pavitt, C. (1985) 'Second guessing': Message interpretation in social networks. Human Communication Research 11, 299-334. Kearsley, G. P. (1976) Questions and question asking in verbal discourse: A cross-disciplinary review. Journal of Psycholinguistic Research 5, 355-75. Keenan, E. (1976) The universality of conversational postulates. Languages in Society 5, 67-80. McLauglin, M. L., Cody, M. J. and O'Hair, H. D. (1983) The management of failure events: Some contextual determinants of accounting behaviour. Human Communication Research 9, 208-24. Mura, S. (1983) Licensing violations: Legitimate violations of Grice's Cooperative Principle. In R. Craig and K. Tracy (eds) Conversational Coherence. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Nofsinger, R. (1983) Tactical coherence in courtroom conversation. In R. Craig and K. Tracy (eds) Conversational Coherence. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Parks, M. (1985) Interpersonal communication and the quest for personal competence. In M. Knapp and G. Miller (eds) Handbook of Interpersonal Communication. Beverly Hill, CA: Sage. Pearce, W. B. and Cronen, V. (1980) Communication, Action and Meaning. New York: Praeger. Penman, R. (1987) Discourse in courts: Co-operation, coercion and coherence. Discourse Processes 10, 201-18. Robinson, W. P. and Rackstraw S. J. (1972) A Question of Answers Vol. 1. London: Routledge, Kegan & Paul. Shimanoff, S. B. (1977) Investigating politeness. In E. O. Keenan and T. L. Bennett (eds) Discourses Across Time and Space. Los Angeles: University of Southern California. (1987) Types of emotional disclosures and request compliance between spouses. Communication Monographs 54, 85-100. Tracy, K. (1990) The many faces of facework. In H. Giles and P. Robinson (eds) The Handbook of Language and Social Psychology. Chichester: John Wiley.

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Emergent Goals at a Relational Turning Point: The Case of Gordon and Denise Robert Hopper and Kent Drummond Department of Speech Communication, The University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX 78712, USA Abstract The present case study describes textual evidence of the goal of 'breaking up' in a heterosexual dating relationship. The evidence appears in three telephone conversations. In the first conversation, a dating couple discusses what to do for the evening. In the second conversation, the same couple agrees to stop dating. In the third, the male offers an account to another female of how the just-accomplished break-up took place. We discuss problems in retrospective studies of relational turning points. Retrospective data presents an overly rationalised picture of action, one in which the role of pre-planned goals grows inflated, and in which the interactive construction of goals is under-specified. By attending to the details of these telephone conversations, we describe constructions and re-constructions of certain goals in one series of conversations. Because actions are goal directed, they may be defined as existing from the time they are instigated until the goal is reached or the attempt is finally given up. (Sjoberg, 1981: 261) We describe here some interaction in which two people accomplish a relational turning point. This relational turning pointthe dissolution of a heterosexual dating relationshipis followed across three telephone conversations. In the first call, 'What Are You Doin' Tonight', two college students in a dating relationship discuss what to do for the evening. In the second call, 'Break Up', the same two students agree to stop dating. And in the third call, 'Gordon's Account', the male from 'Break Up' tells another person the 'story' of the relationship's dissolution. 'Gordon's Account' reports the break up call as having been a goal-directed conversation. Gordon's words resemble the findings of researchers who have asked participants to recall past relationships: 1

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Extract 1 G:

I'd gone out a couple times with this girl in A P O:like a couple a weeks ago: (0.2) and u:h liketaken her to parties and stuff and then- .hhhh toda:y I told her I didn't want to g(h)o ou(h)t with her anym(h)ore huh .hhhh

S:

Oh

hhh

G:

actually:s I'm glad she got the message because we had nothing in common

This passage tells a simple story. The story emphasises the goal-directed qualities of the 'Break Up' encounter. The importance of the relationship and its duration are minimised: 'I'd gone out a couple of times with this girl'. The dating partner is not named, and the break-up is described as something that Gordon 'told' this girl. Nor does Gordon provide the recipient with any information on how his utterances were received. Rather, the story is told as if the break up had been accomplished in monologue. Furthermore, the telling's punch-line ('I told her I didn't want to g(h)o ou(h)t with her anym(h)ore') includes laughter tokens. How adequately does 'Gordon's Account' describe the interaction that accomplished the 'Break Up?. In light of 'Gordon's Account', consider an excerpt from the previous call, 'Break Up': Extract 2 G:

We:ll. I got your card. h (0.4)

M: G:

Yeah. uhh A::nd .snff I guess: you prob'ly read me right. It pro'ly is what we're o:n (0.5)

M:

Hang on just' second okay I'm a switch phone

G:

Okay hhh (16 seconds)

D:

Okay.

G:

.hhhh

D:

: : : I

it

(0.4) #

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D:

Okay.

G:

I- actually w'd rather talk to you in person but I don't think I'm gonna be able make a meeting cuz I- (0.2) now have a headache and-

D: G:

and everything hh

.hhhhhhhhh Bu:t u:m hhh I think maybe u- u I w- (0.2) um would like tuh- stop really goin ou:t- at least for right no:w

In contrast to the clearly defined account of how the break up took place according to Gordon in 'Gordon's Account', the discourse in 'Break Up' sounds amorphous and tentative. Gordon is not in a monologue. His conversational partner is not the audience to a story but someone with whom he takes turns in conversation. Gordon introduces the the topic of breaking up by saying he received Denise's card. Denise orients to the importance of this gambit by switching telephones, presumably to gain privacy. Gordon then cites his illness as an excuse for not meeting face to face. Finally, Gordon proffers an opinion that they should 'stop really going out'. Gordon's pauses, restarts, sound stretches and qualified phrasing in 'Break Up' are not described in his later account; neither is the turn-by-turn unfolding of how the dissolution was accomplished. How can contemporary research into communicator goals begin to address the contrast between interactive experience and retrospective recall? We offer exploratory answers here. In so doing, we depart from research describing recalled goals (see for example Graham, Argyle & Furnam, 1980; Nowakowska, 1981; Sjoberg, 1981). Instead, we seek evidence in naturally-occurring conversation. Goal research based in retrospective documents may err not only in the poverty of communicative detail that can be recovered, but also in conceptualising speech events as mere mediation between goals and reported outcomes. Goal(s)  Speech Event(s)  Reported Outcomes In such an idealised schema, a given speaker is represented as possessing transcendent goals that may be brought out into a speech event. The speech event produces the desired outcome. Interaction, on this view, merely accomplishes a goal that existed before the interaction took place. Applied to Gordon's perspective on these messages, the application becomes:  'We should  'I told this girl I want to stop going out' I didn't want to go break up out with her'. with Denise To date, researchers following these models have been more successful in conceptualising goals and outcomes than in describing speech events. Consequently,

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reports of turning points in relationships over-emphasise their goal-directed aspects at the expense of describing interaction at such moments. Two additional complications cloud relationships between goals and speech acts. First, given (at least) two participants in any encounter, each probably pursuing multiple goals, how may we describe how each goal of each participant relates to which message features? In the case of the crucial segment of the 'Break Up' encounter, can we make clear separation between Gordon's goals and Denise's? May we then connect each set of goals to message features? G's goals (1 . . . n) details shown D's goals (1 . . . n) in transcript Suppose we could conceptualise a list of goals for each party (for example, 'to break up', 'to remain friends', 'to save face (own/other's)', or 'to telephone the other party'). Then suppose we could substantiate such a list. How then could we seek traces that a particular goal or combination of goals (of one or both parties) caused any feature(s) under examination? If we fail to insist that goals be represented in speech, must we swallow a theoretical problem about latent variables? Or, if we insist on message representations for each goal (as substantiation of participant orientations) then one wonders why we didn't just begin with the details of messages rather than trying to hypostatise non-empirical goals as causes for action? Is it possible that goals are, to some degree, empirical communicative accomplishments? A second complication involves the time at which researchers sample communicators' goals. Given two moments at which we sample Gordon's discourse, for instance, we need model not only Gordon's goals (1 . . . n, as above) and those of any partner, but also we must represent these goals at the moment(s) of each encounter. Hence, we would need a diagram for Gordon's and Denise's goals at the time of each conversation; and perhaps these may even change within a single encounter. Further, at the moment of the 'Gordon's Account', he reports his goal in having engineered the moment of 'Break Up.' Gordon's re-telling is burdened by multiple considerations of events at both encounters. For example, as we show later, even as Gordon breaks up with Denise, he acts to protect the face of self and other projecting a future friendship. Yet in 'Gordon's Account', these constraints are replaced by others. How could we model Gordon's testimony reliably to assess the importance of his goals? Retrospective studies of 'turning points in relationships', may have to take on this burden. By contrast to these retrospective approaches, we attempt to describe the moment-by-moment emergence of participants' goals as shown in conversation. We argue that goals at such moments may be reconceptualised as displayed accomplishments. Our description pivots on the notion of relationship 'turning point', a focus of considerable research that shows methodical parallels to studies of communicator goals. Turning-point studies rely on a Retrospective Interview Technique (RIT), in which subjects are asked to recall significant events such as break ups, in some cases five years after they have occurred. Subjects report goals that account for their relational turning points, as Gordon does in 'Gordon's

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Account', but they rarely tie these goals to details of the conversations in which the turning-points occurred. Turning Points in Romance: The Literature In recent years relational communication researchers have adopted the turning point as a unit of analysis. A review of turning point research reflects three overlapping emphases: rate-of-change, attributions, and a taxonomies of actions. Bolton (1961) was among the first to emphasise rate-of-change in turning points of romantic relationships. Through questionnaires and interviews, he asked 20 newly-wed couples to recall the development of their relationships. Bolton identified five patterns of relationship development: Personality Meshing, Identity Clarification, Relation-Centred, Pressure and Intrapersonal-Centered, and Expediency Centered. Huston et al. (1981) studied the rate-of-change in turning points but disregarded the content or forms of the turning points themselves. Huston et al. (1981) relied on the Retrospective Interview Technique (RIT), in which couples were asked to recall significant events in the history of their relationships. Turning points were defined as those events that changed the course of the relationships' lives and which, specifically, increased or decreased the chance of marriage. Attribution researchers have also used RIT in order to study relationship trajectories, but in addition they have asked couples why the turning points in question produced a change in the chance of marriage. For example, Lloyd & Cate (1985), coded the attributions given by respondents into four categories: dyadic (rooted in the interaction of the partners), individual (emanating from one partner's personal belief system), network (resulting from interaction from others such as family, friends and coworkers), and circumstantial (factors over which partners had little or no control but which affected the chance of marriage). The extent to which couples agreed on these attribution types was a focus of interest. More comprehensive attributional studies include Wilmot et al. (1985) and Sillars & Scott (1983). The Wilmot et al. study (1985) was longitudinal, focusing on long-distance relationships that had terminated within a 15-month time frame. Several findings emerged: that directness/indirectness is an important dimension of the disengagement process; that subjects attribute more directness to their own strategies than to those of their partners; and that mutual initiations produced both (1) more positive emotional reactions and (2) fewer regrets about how the termination was enacted: Quite clearly, if participants want to have fewer regrets and to experience less emotional turmoil, working with the partner jointly to accomplish dissolution is in order. (p. 214) In other words, Wilmot et al. (1985) suggested that couples who work together to accomplish a dissolution will probably be more satisfied with it. This suggests that certain communicators might be motivated, at turning points, to constitute decisions as joint products, rather than individual links. Yet because the RIT is not

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message-focused, the researchers are unable to tell us how 'working with the partner' was accomplished with those couples who practised it. A third cluster of studies compiles taxonomies. By developing a profile of the phenomena that constitute relational turning points, these researchers move a step closer to examining the role of talk in turning points. Baxter & Bullis (1986, building on Hinde, 1981) examined the extent to which relational partners talk about their relationship during each turning point. They found that 55% of the turning points involved relationship talk, but that talk was not equally likely for all turning point events. Those most likely to involve talk included Exclusivity, Making Up, Serious Commitment, Passion and Disengagement; those least likely to involve talk were Get-to-Know Time, Physical Separation and Sacrifice. In two studies, subjects were asked to characterise talk occurring at turning points. Baxter & Wilmot (1984) found that while 'direct talk' may be used to assess the state of a relationship, romance partners more frequently use 'secret tests'. Respondents reported secret tests that researchers described as comprising seven cluster types. Females reported more secret test strategies than did males, as did people in transition from platonic to romantic relationships. In a subsequent study, Baxter & Wilmot (1985) again found that some turning points attracted more direct talk than others. For example, during Get-to-know time, a romantic relationship may be especially vulnerable. But again, these researches offer little detail on the actual speech; and both studies employed retrospective interview techniques that would likely over-emphasise the intentionality of action during turning points, while de-emphasising qualities of on-the-scene enactment. In all, turning point studies have examined goals of romance partners by suggesting why couples break up, and which break-up events attract talk. But none of these researchers has described the details of relationship-transforming talk itself. This shortcoming is understandable for two reasons. First, 'natural' conversation that takes place during a turning point is very difficult to obtain. Relational turning points, by definition, represent critical junctures in romantic relationships; they usually occur privately and unpredictably. Second, retrospective research methods have not provided descriptive details of naturally occurring conversation at turning points. Few RIT researchers have even asked for recall of conversation, and analyses of such data focused on general content, with little sense of detail. Gordon and Denise In 1987, Gordon T., an undergraduate speech major, submitted three 60-minute audiotapes to the University of Texas Conversation Library. Gordon tape-recorded his telephone calls for one week, obtaining advance written consent from frequent conversational partners to submit the resulting tapes for research. Included on the tape were calls to Gordon's mother, calls to a number of same-sex and opposite-sex friends, and three calls between Gordon and a woman named Denise. These calls were transcribed using the notation system developed by Jefferson (see Atkinson & Heritage, 1984, and the Appendix).

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In the first Gordon-Denise encounter, 'What Are You Doin' Tonight' (not included in the Appendix, but excerpted below), Denise telephones Gordon at work and they arrange for a date: Extract 3 G:

So what are you doin tonight

D:

.hhh Oh nothin hhhw (0.7)

D:

What are you doin (0.2)

G:

N:othin

D:

Nothin? .hhh hh

G:

I 'magine we c'd go do: somethin=

D:

huh heh heh heh heh heh-

G:

.h h h

G:

.hhh

D:

.hhhhh Oka:y

G:

Um::::::: (1.5) (I dunno) I have a u:h (1.2) a free pass we g'd go to Hall's if we want an go dancing (.)

D:

Thâ'd be fun.

G:

.hhh Yeah like u:h

D:

Geah so you tired?

G:

Huh? No- ust a lid'l bit but I mean

G:

I'm- (0.4)

D:

Ow:. Ghod damn the pat- cat's crawling up my l(h)eg he(h)re

G:

Oh really

D:

Ow Pippitt

G:

huh

eh

D: G: D:

huh (1.3)

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G:

Bu::t you know we could do that later o:n (0.8)

D:

Nka:y, .hh (0.3)

G:

Uh:m::::::: uhhhh We all still goin camping?h

D:

I'on't think s(h)o(h) huh

G:

Yeah

is a mit

D:

Awfully

G: D:

bit nippy hh hYeah really huh huh huh

G: D: (0.8) G:

Cause I didn't think so:: toda:y,

D:

No: hh huh huh hu-

G:

And actually I'd- (0.4) counting on that you weren't I'd said that I was gonna give a tour around (0.5) four thirty for Joe Abrams

The details in this segment of the first Gordon-Denise call may foreshadow the 'Break Up' encounter to come. Gordon and Denise bumble unenthusiastically toward deciding to go dancing on a free pass. Denise says that that would be fun, but worries whether Gordon might be too tired. He admits that he is a little tired. Subsequently, Gordon admits that he had already arranged to work on the following day during a time that he and Denise had arranged to go camping. They agreed that the weather was terrible anyway. The entire segment (the entire five-minute call, in fact) shows a listless, arhythmic character. In sum, the first call in our three-part series displays two persons somewhat used to each other's company, but still at a loss for words. 'Break Up' is the second of the two Gordon-and-Denise conversations. Gordon calls Denise and suggests they stop dating for the time being. 'Break Up' was itself prompted by a card from Denise. The two had been dating for about two months, according to Gordon's statements to the researchersthough he delivers a shorter estimate to his friend in the third call. But during the week prior to Valentine's Day, the two apparently did not speak to one another. On Valentine's Day Denise sent Gordon a card asking for a candid assessment of the relationship. Soon afterward, 'Break Up' occurs. A long segment of this call was quoted earlier, and most of the call is transcribed in Appendix 2. But the 'moment of truth' is this turn about one minute into the call:

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Extract 4 G:

.hhhhhhhhh Bu:t u:m hh I think maybe u- u I w- (0.2) um would like tuh- stop really goin ou:t- at least for right no:w

As the call continues, the parties negotiate the terms of the break up, eventually agreeing that they may date again when they are less busy. The next call on the tape, 'Gordon's Account', shows Gordon describing the incident to another friend. Here, we find ample evidence to support our hearing of that call. As Gordon re-tells the story of his break-up with Denise, his goals seem clear-cutso clear-cut as to resemble the recall data of turning point research. Extract 5 G:

pt .hhhh I'd gone out a couple times with this girl in A P O: like a couple a weeks ago: (0.2) and u:h like- taken her to parties and stuff and then- .hhhh toda:y I told her I didn't want to g(h)o ou(h)t with her anym(h)ore

In 'Break Up', however, we have a considerably more emergent and interactive story. In 'Break Up' there are a number of interactive features that do not appear in Gordon's later story. Those omissions, and their methodological implications for studying turning points, are a major theme of the present essay. Details of the Break Up The 'Break Up' encounter opens with Gordon asking a female answerer whether Denise is there. Denise comes to the phone and Gordon identifies himself. A routine exchange of 'how are you' inquiries follow, and these lead to small talk about Gordon's cold and a recent visit from Denise's parents. At line 34 of the transcription in Appendix 2, Gordon notifies Denise that he received her card. Denise responds with marked recognition. Gordon makes a vague statement about her having read him correctly. Denise shows her interactive orientation to the conversation having reached a critical point by choosing this moment to switch phonespresumably to gain privacy. After the re-beginning, Gordon (line 48) makes some excuses for not talking to Denise in person; then he delivers the news amid a virtual clinic on the use of powerless speech features:

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Extract 6 G:

.hhhhhhhhh Bu:t u:m hh I think maybe u- u I w- (0.2) um would like tuh- stop really goin ou:t- at least for right no:w

D:

Yeah.

G:

.hhh U::m I jus- .hhhhhh (0.5) u::h hh I feel really ba:d because I- u:m (1.0) .snff I wish- I think I just we don't have as much in common as: I think we both tho:ught

This transcription emphasises Gordon's vocalised pausing, false-starts, and qualifications ('I think maybe', and 'At least for right now'). These features give Gordon's declaration a tentative, distanced flavour. Gordon seems to proffer the suggestion to 'stop goin out' sandwiched between indication of his own uncertainty ('I think maybe') and indication that he is limiting this suggestion to a particular moment in time ('at least for right now'). Are these qualifications (and attendant dysfluencies) pursuing secondary goals of saving face for Deniseor softening the impact of potentially negative disclosure? (See Brown & Levinson, 1978). And/or is Gordon indicating ambivalence or negotiative uncertainty (in response to the earlier card, among other things) about what is the best course of action? Or/and is Gordon displaying 'role distance' while delivering bad news? Evidence could be developed for any of these arguments, or for combining them into multiple-goals explanations. But how could we distinguish the relative contribution of such goals or others to communicative details? An alternative approach might be to describe how Denise shows analysis of Gordon's utterances in subsequent turnsand vice versa. One striking aspect in the Gordon-Denise interaction is how reasons for the break up unfold and evolve. After stating that he would like to stop going out, Gordon offers an initial assessment of why the relationship is not working: 'we don't have as much in common as I think we both thought'. After Denise says 'Yeah', Gordon makes this self-referential observation: 'cause I know sometimes we're both at just a lapse fer words'. The warrant for Gordon's reasoning seems to be if two people are at a loss for words, it must be because they do not have enough in common. Denise encourages Gordon to state his reasoning in more detail in the turns following this initial disclosure. She does this by offering 'yeah' and 'um hm' responses. (See lines 47, 52, 56, and 62 in Appendix 2.) At the very least, these 'continuer' responses serve to pass speaker turn (Jefferson, 1981). In so doing, Denise may pursue a goal of pressuring Gordon to continue talking. Gordon uses this floor time to offer more of his reasoning. Having stated the connection between being at a 'lapse for words' and having little in common, Gordon excuses both parties from blame on the grounds that they are too busy. 'I wish I had more time an ta- even ta get ta know you better'. Here, Gordon introduces the theme of a lack of timemoving stepwise away from having too little in common.

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Gordon thus addresses a no-fault reason for severing the dating relationship: lack of time. In response to this new justification, Denise offers 'Yeah'. Gordon elaborates? I'm so busy and you're so busy'. Here, Gordon assigns to Denise some responsibility for the proposed disengagement process: she, too, is busy (something they have in common, ironically). Moreover, Gordon says, 'I can't do anything'. As Gordon elaborates this theme, Denise responds with single words or silences that seem to encourage Gordon to continue (lines 72, 76). Finally, at lines 79 and 82, Denise aligns with the lack of time account. ('I know what you mean'.) A silence of over a second ensues, then Gordon says 'I still want to be your good friend.' Soon thereafter, Denise begins to state her account for the current state of affairs (line 91). Denise begins by adopting the 'loss for words' characterisation, making this thematic in the emerging story, and tying it to being busy and being tired. Extract 7 D:

I think part of it- (0.2) I think part of the problem the hhhh huh- the loss f- for words and all tha:t is (1.4) u:h I mean like last time we went out I was so tired hhheh .hhh you know (0.5)

D:

And (0.3) u- I'm jus- (1.4) so: (0.4) I work so hard all week, you know

G:

Oh yeah

D:

Then I just collapse on weekends huh huh .hh so: I mean (1.0) you know I- I really (1.0) I think the busyness is Oa lot of it.

G:

.hhhh Yeah=

D:

=Because- I just ge:t (1.4) I dunno huh huh

G:

Yeah (.) is hard tu:h

D:

.hhh

G:

.snff do anything much 1- less besides schoolwork an:d- and something else on top of that

Denise tactfully corrects, without mentioning, Gordon's verbal slip on 'lapse for words'. In taking up the theme of being at a loss for words, Denise does not

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develop Gordon's 'nothing in common' colouring. She does, however, justify her own deportment on the basis of fatiguewhich Gordon had broached in his commentary about lack of time. Denise she accepts primary responsibility for lacking time and being tired. ('I am tired', not 'We were tired'). She does not characterise the being-at-a-loss-for-words as a problem of interaction, as having run out of things to say. In these particulars, Denise's reasoning departs from Gordon's. On this view, Gordon and Denise negotiate over the interpretation for their turning-point. Another point at which Denise's goals emerge diverging from Gordon's occurs at the conclusion of the break up call. Gordon offers the possibility of getting together at a later date: Extract 8 G:

Who knows maybe later or some

D: (1.2) D:

Maybe

hhuh

.hh Maybe after this show's over

and I have a little ti:meG:

=Huh huh (1.0)

D:

Would be:- (0.4) really ni:ce

In this segment, Deniose brings to the floor a specific source of time consumption: the campus musical she is helping produce. These words suggest that once the show is over and she has more time, the relationship may continue. She pursues this theme in offering an assessment of that prospect: it would be 'really nice'. Finally, after a mutual assurance that Gordon and Denise will still talk to one another, Denise offers: Extract 9 D:

And (0.8) we'll have to go out sometime

G:

Okay (.) good deal=

D:

=Have fun

Again, Denise brings up the prospect of resuming the relationship at a later date, this time appending her statement with the hope/assurance that they would 'have fun'. While Gordon appears to pursue a goal of breaking up from his first mention of Denise's card to the end of the encounter, Denise's goals seem more emergent. And they emerge as she reacts to the announcement of Gordon's explicit goal. She

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pursues a theme of transforming Gordon's proposal 'we're breaking up' to something such as 'we're not going to see each other for a while because we are both very busy'. Specifically, Denise seizes what appear to be Gordon's attempts to soften the rejection (they may go out again later) as a basis for redefiningnot terminatingthe relationship. Denise may be motivated to have the interaction support the least rejecting view of her possible. Not only as an account to herself, but as an account for others, it may be easier to say 'we decided not to see each other for a while until we get over our busy periods' than to say 'Gordon and I broke up'. Did Gordon Pre-plan the Goal of 'Breaking Up'? Perhaps one could argue that Gordon planned and staged this break up. He clearly pursues the theme of severing the dating relationship, whereas Denise orients to a theme of remaining friends and reserving the possibility of resumption at a less busy time. Furthermore, Gordon's subsequent account gives evidence (albeit tainted) that he pursued the break-up. Finally, the first of the three calls in the series shows Gordon treating Denise rather blandlyoffering a free pass for one date and cancelling a camping trip to work, for instance. On this view, one might posit a time-line for the emergence of the break up motive in Gordon's discourse: From the first call in our series (in which G. sounds bored with D.), through the second (in which G. engineers the break up) to the third (in which he rejoices at goal-attainment). This theme offers an appealing literary conceit for our turning-point story (see Ragan & Hopper, 1983). Yet this picture still seems too simple. Consider the turning-points in our own experiences. These are ambivalent moments, and one may begin certain encounters with a mixed orientationsay, that breaking up is a possibility, but one is not totally unwilling to abandon this goal. Let us consider this possibility, from Gordon's point of view, as we re-view the opening moments of the break-up call. Recall that Gordon is not proceeding toward break up without provocation. Denise's card, suggesting possible termination, has been received. Under such circumstances, one might go straight to termination, or might do some sort of covert testing, perhaps even more subtle than the forms discussed by Baxter & Wilmont. Consider this passage: Extract 10 D: ==>

G:

.hhh I'm okay how you doin h Alright (.) I have the cold now (0.3)

D: G:

I've a- I got a cold while I was at A and M.

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D:

.hhh Oh goo:d.

.huh .huh

G: D: ==>

G:

enjoy your parents coming up here (.)

D:

Ther've- They've left already

G:

Oh really

D:

Yea:h (0.6)

D: G: D:

have a goo- (0.4) you had a good time? Yeah I di:d I had a lot of fun.

In these momentsthe moments immediately after the opening (in fact springing out of the second 'how are you' inquiry) and immediately preceeding Gordon's announcement that he received the cardin these moments, Gordon makes two small gambits toward possible intimacy, and each gambit gets an un-promising uptake from Denise. The failures of these gambits, the beginnings of which are marked by arrows above, may help 'construct' Gordon's motivation to terminate. At the first arrow, Gordon says, 'I have the cold now.' Among dating partners (i.e. kissables), announcement of respiratory disturbance may be significant news. Gordon packages his description of the ailment with a definite article: 'the cold', not 'a cold'. This usage seems to indicate some expectation that Denise might know to which cold Gordon refers. Perhaps 'the cold' could be thematised as something the two may have shared through displays of affection. Hence, to bring up 'the' cold is to be hearable as topicalising the physically-intimate coupleness in the relationshipeither because Denise might recall which cold Gordon could have, or because she had been its last host. In either case, if Denise were to show familiarity with 'the' cold, if she were to demonstrate uptake to this incipient intimacy-laden theme, then the trajectory of interaction may have unfolded differently. But Denise doesn't 'get it'. After a pause, she offers the Next Turn Repair Initiator 'Huh' to show that she doesn't comprehend the referent. Gordon, in turn, covers his tracks in re-doing the description of his ailment. This time he notes that he got 'a cold while I was at A and M'. Denise, we know from another call, did not go to A and M. So Gordon re-formulates his telling of his cold following the NTRI. The cold, as redescribed, is 'a' not 'the', and its reported ancestry is outside Denise's experience. In sum, Gordon offers a possibly intimate gambit, but Denise does not take it up, and Gordon does not offer her a second chance to catch 'the' cold. At the second arrow, Gordon asks about an event that has recently happened to Denise: 'D'you enjoy your parents coming up here'. In asking this question,

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Gordon seems to be making pleasant small talk, and indicating some knowledge of what Denise has been doing. Gordon may be offering Denise a chance to tell something about the parental visit, and in this sense his opening offers the possibility of intimate dialogue. Denise's answer does not take up this possibility. Instead she answers: 'They've- they've left already'. This answer does not directly take the direction of the question, but rather questions a possible background assumption of the question. And Denise's 'they've left already' may introduce a veiled reproach to Gordon for not having oriented to the parental visit as it unfolded. And in fact Gordon may deserve such a reproach. But in response to the question Gordon happened to ask here Denise's next turn comes off as either a mis-hearing of Gordon's question or a cheap shot, perhaps both. Whatever the explanation for Denise's action, Gordon appears to proffer intimacy and she fails to take it up. In sum, here are two microinstances in which Denise is at a 'lapse' for words when she might be building intimacy with Gordon. Perhaps to describe these gambits at the beginning of 'Break Up' enriches our description of the goals of Gordon and Denise. The further we go with these descriptions, the greater a proportion of the ebb and flow of goal-orientation seems embedded in the small interactional contingencies of this telephone opening, rather than appearing in response to some transcendent sets of goals. Perhaps the 'secret test' analogy fits with two lapses in this telephone small talk. If so, the test may have remained secret to both participants. Still, it is only after these failures that Gordon drew out his break up gambits. Perhaps the break up was inevitable at this point and Denise was in no mood to be nice to Gordon's (perhaps phony) attempts to act intimate while heading for the door. But behind all these speculations looms formal, systemic ecological wisdom. As listeners to these phone calls we must applaud Denise and Gordon on their communicative outcomes. It was indeed time for Gordon and Denise to move on; and they handle this delicate turning point without undue belligerance or pathology. The failure to be permanent partners seems a long-term success for both participants. As we trace the trajectories of shifting orientations to multiple goals, some of which show traces of locally-occasioned construction, we no longer view Gordon as the Actor and Denise as a news Recipient. Rather, these documents support the interaction-based conclusions of Wilmot et al (1985). Although it may be difficult to say who initiated the break upGordon, by calling Denise, or Denise, by sending a card to Gordon and failing to orient to intimacy in the opening portions of ''Break Up''it seems clear that the reason for the break-up was negotiated in interaction, with face concerns larded throughout the discourse of both parties. Face Concerns Whether or not either party began these interactions with a goal of breaking up, both participants orient to face concerns during the negotiation processes described above (Brown & Levinson, 1978; Craig, 1986; Jacobs et al., 1988).

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For Gordon's part, the break-up is enacted in a way that displays his sense of self as a 'decent kind of person', which includes not offending, hurting or upsetting Denise. This is displayed by his comments near the end of the break-up call (see Appendix 2, pp. 7-8): Extract 11 G:

Don't

ruin you da:y or anything

D: (0.6) D:

No: hhh I mean- (0.7) I just-

G:

And I apologi:ze for- y'know not talkin to you earlier

D:

okay (1.1)

D:

I understand. (0.9)

D:

I me:an I just need a little ti:me. too

G:

Yeah (0.7)

D:

And (1.1) y'know hhh (1.0) .hh

G:

Who knows maybe later or

D: (1.2) D:

Maybe

hhuh

.hh Maybe after the show's over

and I have a little ti:me= G:

=Huh huh (1.0)

D:

Would be:- (0.4) really ni:ce

G:

Yeah

D: (2.0) D:

So

G:

Okay well I'm g'let you go:

D:

Yeah

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G:

U:m take ca:re I will s- still talk to you I hope you'll still talk to me

Gordon expresses a wish not to have ruined Denise's day; he apologises for not having talked to her sooner; he softens the rejection by offering the hope of going out later; and he tells Denise to take care, stating that he will still talk to her and hopes that she will still talk to him. Denise orients to saving face by re-framing the lapse-for-words condition as circumstantial. This protects Gordon from having to defend the 'nothing in common' explanation. Further, the possibility that she is not an interesting person to talk to, or does not have interesting things to talk about, is deflected in this description: Extract 12 D:

I think part of it (0.2) I think part of the problem the hhhh huh- the loss f- for words and all tha:t is (1.4) u:h like the last time we went out I was so tired hhheh .hhh you know

Here, Denise minimises the face threat (to self and other) by shifting the blame from a personal shortcoming to a circumstantial fact-of-life. Gordon swiftly endorses this move to no-fault accounting when he says: 'yeah (.) is hard tu:h do anything much 1less besides schoolwork an:d (.) and something else on top of it'. Now, the reason has shifted from not having enough in common to mutual busyness. One could accuse Gordon of tactlessness or off-record face threat in his final line, which appears to characterise his relationship to Denise as 'something else' to be considered after demands of work and school are met. However offensive to self and other; that's the bottom line. Gordon and Denise suffered a lapse for words as they prioritised their relationship to each other as a distant third to work and school. Concluding Notes By examining naturally occurring conversations we are able to display features of goals-in-talk that previous goal research has not. Bearing our original research question in mind (How do communicators develop and display goals in their speech behaviour?), we have opened dialogue about the possibilities for description of goals and turning points. Studying naturally occurring conversations allows us to examine the resources for construction of goals. A loss for words that is displayed in the first Gordon and Denise encounter provides evidence that the couple could use during the 'Break

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Up' encounter. In 'Break Up', this loss for words is characterised both in the small talk after the telephone opening, and in the parties negotiating accounts to explain the break up. In 'Gordon's Account', Gordon reveals fidelity to his 'lapse for words' and 'nothing in common' characterisations. In other words, Gordon does not follow the story that Denise had suggested, and to which he affiliated. Extract 13 G:

=Oh actually:s I'm glad she got the message because we had nothing in common and we would like talk on the phone and we'd go(1.2)

S:

Hheh hh hh hh .eh .eh

G: (0.8) S:

Ehh hh (0.5)

Again, Gordon refers to having 'nothing in common', and here he gives an example of what having nothing in common 'sounds like' over the telephone. The cut-off after 'go-' at line 16 serves to highlight the 1.2-second silence that follows. Together, they 'do' having nothing in common. This re-enactments, is an ironic cartoon-like exaggeration: the pauses in 'What Are You Doin' Tonight', for instance, are only approximatley half this long. Still, any examination of the transcript from the first call should show the reader exemplification of the features which Gordon parodies in his story. But the re-enacted pauses in 'Gordon's Account' are also mutually achieved with Shawn. She laughs at lines 17 and 19, and displays to Gordon that she 'gets' the joke about long pauses between him and Denise, and what such long pauses signify. Goals can be both pre-formulated and emergent. Traditional goal research asks participants to recall what they were trying to accomplish during a controlled interaction (Sjoberg, 1981). This line of inquiry has lead to relatively pure formulations about participant's goals, such as those found by Graham, Argyle & Furnham (1980). According to their research, the major goals participants wished to achieve were: to be accepted to convey information, to help another, to dominate others, to have fun, to reduce anxiety, or to seek advice. All of these goals may be characterised as pre-formulatedsets of ideas participants have in their heads as they enter a conversation. Prompted by this methodology, interactions consist of a recollected 'playing out' of such goals, without attention to how the goals were received or modified throughout that interaction. Yet what would such goals 'look like' in a conversation? What things would one say to be accepted in a conversation, or to dominate others? Would one behave

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this way throughout the conversation, or just at the important parts? And where are those? Do interactants really have such prepackaged goals in mind as they enter a conversation, and are they able to pursue them over the course of one? Our analysis of the Gordon and Denise encounters leads us to emphasise instead certain local, interactionally-generated characteristics of dissolution-relevant manoeuvering, specifically how its trajectories took shape across participants' turns at talk. Conversational partners help shape what our goals 'have been'. Previous research on story recipients (Mandelbaum, 1989) has shown that in naturally occurring conversations, recipients of stories wield significant power to shape and even drive the stories tellers produce. We observe a similar shifting and re-positioning with respect to the telling of goals, as evidenced here: Extract 14 S:

Oh

hhh

G:

actually:s I'm glad she got the message because we had nothing in common (.) and we would like talk on the phone and we'd go- (1.2)

S:

Hheh hh hh hh .eh .eh

G: (0.8) S:

Ehh hh (0.5)

G: ==>

Ehh hh

S: G:

you gave her to the big punt huh .hhhh

old one two

S:

huh huh .hhh Dr:op kick

huh

huh

G: G:

huh huh .hhhhh No:. (.)

==>

G:

I mean she's a nice girl an everything but

Here, shared laughter abounds after Gordon enacts his 'having nothing in common' story. In the middle of this shared laughter, Shawn offers a characterisation of what has just taken place between Gordon and Denise: 'So you gave her to the big punt huh.' Gordon upgrades this characterisation by calling it 'thee old one two kick'. Again, Shawn laughs and extends the metaphor by saying 'Drop kick'.

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But Gordon now seems to reverse direction (second arrow). As he laughs at Shawn's over-built rendering of 'Drop kick', he adds disagreement-relevant materials to it: 'No, she's a nice girl'. The point is Gordon, who introduced the topic of the break up, and has to this point encouraged play with it, shifts suddenly and resists Shawn's brusque characterisation of the dissolution. This instance displays how interpersonal goals, even once they have been 'accomplished', may continue to change shape as we recount their accomplishment to new recipients, and as these recipients react to the revelations. Nor can we control the representation of these goals when recent recipients tell others of their accomplishment. In all, it seems unlikely that goals-in-talk are as clear-cut as may have been anticipated. Clearly, more naturally-occurring conversations need to be described to extend our knowledge of communicator-goals in actual interactions. In this inquiry, we urge attention to details of interaction. Let us describe how we do these things with words, and let us do so with as little fealty to oversimplified theories as we can muster. Let our fidelity be to adequacy of descriptive detail in our explanations for social interaction in the natural contexts of its occurrence. Wilmot (1980) writes: The field is tending to specialize in (1) observing others' episodes and observing what the behavior means and (2) assessing participant perspectives on past transaction without coupling those definitions to observable episodes. If this trend continues, we will have (1) amassed a large amount of episodic-based data without participant views and (2) collected participant views of the residuals of the past events not necessarily relevant to current episodes. Multiple perspectives are now needed. (p. 66). Notes 1. The meaning of the transcription symbols is given in Appendix 1. References Atkinson, J. M. and Heritage, J. (1984) Structures of Social Action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baxter, L. A. and Bullis, C. (1986) Turning points in developing romantic relationships. Human Communication Research 12, 469-93. Baxter, L. A. and Wilmot, W. (1984) 'Secret tests': Social strategies for acquiring information about the state of the relationship. Human Communication Research 11, 171-201. (1985) Taboo topics in close relationships. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 2, 253-69. Bolton, C. D. (1961) Mate selection as the development of a relationship. Marriage and Family Living 23, 234-40. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. (1978) Universals of language usage: Politeness phenomena. In E. N. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness: Strategies in Social Interaction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Craig, R. T. (1986) Goals in discourse. In D. G. Ellis and W. A. Donohue (eds) Contemporary Issues in Language and Discourse Processes. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

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Graham, J., Argyle M. and Furnham, A. (1980) The goal structure of situations. European Journal of Social Psychology 10, 345-66. Hinde, R. A. (1981) The bases of science of interpersonal relationships. In S. Duck and R. Gilmour (eds) Personal Relationships 1: Studying Personal Relationships. New York: Academic Press. Huston, T. L., Surra, C., Fitzgerald, N. M. and Cate, R. (1981) From courtship to marriage: Mate selection as an interpersonal process. In S. Duck and R. Gilmour (eds) Personal Relationships 2: Developing Personal Relationships. New York: Academic Press. Jacobs, C. S., Jackson, S., Hall, B. and Stearns, S. (1988) Digressions in mediated discourse: Multiple goals or standing concerns? Paper presented at the Ninth Annual Discourse conference, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA. Jefferson, G. (1981) Caveat speaker. Technical Report to the Social Science Research Council, Manchester, England. Lloyd, S. A. and Cate, R. M. (1985) Attributions associated with significant turning points in premarital relationship development and dissolution. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 2,419-36. Mandelbaum, J. (1989) Interpersonal activity in conversational storytelling. Western Journal of Speech Communication Special issue on the sequential analysis of talk. Nowakowska, M. (1981) Structure of situation and action: some remarks on formal theory of actions. In D. Magnusson (ed.) Toward a Psychology of Situations. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Ragan, S. and Hopper, R. (1983) Ways to leave our lover. Communication Quarterly 32, 310-17. Sillars, A. and Scott, M. (1983) Interpersonal perception between intimates: An integrative view. Human Communication Research 10, 153-76. Sjoberg, L. (1981) Life situations and episodes as a basis for situational influence on action. In D. Magnusson (ed.) Toward a Psychology of Situations. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Wilmot, W. (1980) Metacommunicaiton: A re-examination and extension. In D. Nimmo (ed.) Communication Yearbook 4. New Brunswick: Transaction Books. Wilmot, W., Carbaugh, D. and Baxter, L. A. (1985) Communication strategies used to terminate romantic relationships. Western Journal of Speech Communication 49, 204-16. Appendix 1. Transcription Symbols [] Brackets are used to indicate overlapping utterances. =

The 'equal' sign indicates two contiguous utterances that almost overlap.

stress Underlining indicates stress/emphasis. stre:tchColon indicates sound stretching. nôt

A carat over a vowel shows an upward shift in pitch.

we-

Hyphen shows a cut-off, a glottal stop.

?

A question mark indicates rising pitch at word or phrase ending, not necessarily a question.

.

Period indicates falling pitch at the end of a word or phrase.

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°

A degree sign preceding and following a word or phrase indicates that it was said quietly.

()

Single parentheses enclosing words or blank space are used to indicate doubtful hearings.

Single parentheses enclosing numbers indicate pauses in conversation. Numbers express seconds and tenths of seconds. Micro-pauses are (0.7) expressed as (.). Ye(h)sWithin speech laughter is shown by (h). hhh

The h's indicate audible outbreaths.

.hhh A superscripted period with h's indicates in-breaths. pt

This symbol indicates an audible lip smack.

Appendix 2. Two Documents in a Break Up To enable evaluation of the claims based upon naturally-occurring speech, we display transcriptions of Call II ('Break Up') and Call III ('Gordon's Account') to provide evidence about the Gordon-Denise relationship. Please refer to page 45 of the essay for the bulk of Call I ('What Are You Doin' Tonight'). We gratefully acknowledge Gail Jefferson's transcriptions of Calls I and II in the present corpus. We remain responsible for errors in the present versions. Gordon and Denise, II: 1 1

"Break Up"

((tones)) (5.0) r::::::::::ng A:

Hello?

2

(.)

3

G:

Hlo is Denise here

4

A:

.hhh Yeah she is jus second

5

(10.0)

6

D:

Hello?

7

G:

Denise?

8

D:

Yeah.

9

G:

This' Gordon

10

D:

Hi.

11

G:

Hi how are you.

12

D:

·hhh I'm okay, how you doin

13

G:

Alright,

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14

G:

15

I have the cold now (0.3)

16

D:

17

G:

18

I've a- I got a cold while I was at A and M.

19

D:

20

G:

21

D:

22

G:

23

.hhh Oh goo:d.

.huh .huh

enjoy your parents coming up here (.)

24

D:

Ther've- They've left already

25

G:

Oh really

26

D:

Yea:h

27

(0.7)

28

D:

29

G:

30

D:

31

G:

32

D:

33 34

have a goo- (0.4) you had a good time? Yêah I di:d I had a lot of fun.

It was grea:t (0.4)

G:

35

We:ll. I got your card. h (0.4)

36

D:

Yeah. uhh

37

G:

A::nd .snff I guess: you prob'ly read me

38

right. It pro'ly is what we're o:n

39

(0.5)

40

D:

Hang on just' second okay I'm a switch phone

41

G:

Okay hhh

42

(16 seconds)

43

D:

Okay.

44

G:

.hhhh

45

D:

46

it (0.4) #

47

D:

Okay.

48

G:

I've- actually w'd rather talk to you in

49

person but I don't think I'm gonna be able

50

make a meeting cuz I- (0.2) now have a

51

headache and-

52

D:

53

G:

54

and everything hh

.hhhhhhhhh Bu:t u:m hhh I think maybe u- u I w- (0.2) um would like tuh- stop really goin

55 56

ou:t- at least for right no:w D:

Yeah.

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57

G:

.hhh U::m I jus- .hhhhhh (0.5) u::h hh I feel

58

really ba:d because I- u:m (1.0) .snff I

59

wish- I think I just we don't have as much in

60

common as: I think we both tho:ught

61

(0.3)

62

D:

Ye:ah

63

G:

Bu:t- u:m cause I know sometimes we're both

64

at just a lapse for words and

65

D:

66

G:

67

D:

68

G:

huh I'm a speech major I hm: U:m (0.3) .hhhh bu:t- (0.2) and I wish I had

69

more time- and tu:h even to get- to know you

70

better

71

(0.4)

72

D:

.Yeah.

73

G:

U:m but I mean I'm- so busy and you're so

74

busy and I feel ba:d that I can't do anything

75

and so I'll .hhh

76

D:

77

G:

78

.hhhhh and whatever and uh

79

D:

80

G:

81 82

D:

G:

But uh (1.2) I still wanna be in good frien:d with ya hhh

D:

87

Yeah (1.2)

88

D:

89

G:

90 91

I know what chyou (1.2)

85 86

Or go out and do anything with you even like tha:t.

83 84

bad when I can't call you and

justI mea(0.7)

D:

I think part of it- (0.2) I think part of the

92

problem the hhhh huh- the loss f- for words

93

and all tha:t is (1.4) u:h I mean like last

94

time we went out I was so tired hhheh .hhh

95

you know

96 97

(0.5) D:

And (0.3) u- I'm jus- (1.4) so: (0.4) I work

98

so hard all week, you know

99

G:

Oh yeah

100

D:

That I just collapse on weekends huh huh .hhh

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101

so: I mean (1.0) you know I- I really (1.0)

102

I think the busyness is Oa lot of it.

103

G:

.hhhh Yeah=

104

D:

=Because- I just ge:t (1.4) I dunno huh huh

105

G:

Yeah (.) is hard tu:h

106

D:

.hhh

107

G:

.snff do anything much 1- less besides

108

schoolwork an:d- and something else on top of

109

that

110 111

D: G:

112

Yeah (0.2) And you're doin so mu:ch a:nd (.) I'm doin so mu:ch and

113 114

((3 minutes deleted D:

Pt Ya:h.

115 116

(1.4) D:

Oo:h.

117 118

(1.5) D:

We:ll huh

119

(1.0)

120

G:

.snff We:l1 um

121

D:

hhhh

122

G:

Don't

123

D:

124

hhh ruin your da:y or anything

(0.6)

125

D:

No: hhh I mean- (0.7) I just-

126

G:

And I apologi:ze for- y'know not talkin to

127 128

you earlier r D:

129 130

okay (1.1)

D:

131

I understand. (0.9)

132

D:

I me:an I just need a little ti:me. too

133

G:

Yeah

134

(0.7)

135

D:

And (1.1) y'know hhh (1.0) 'hh

136

G:

Who knows maybe later or

137

D:

138 139

(1.2) D:

140 141

Maybe

hhuh .hh Maybe after this show's over

and I have a little ti:me= G:

=Huh huh

142

(1.0)

143

D:

Would be:- (0.4) really ni:ce

144

G:

Yeah

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145

D:

.yeah.

146

(2.0)

147

D:

So

148

G:

Okay well I'm g'let you go:

149

D:

Yeah

150

G:

U:m (.) take ca:re I will s- still talk to

151

you I hope you'll still talk to me

152

D:

Sure of course

153

G:

Nkay

154

D:

And (0.8) we'll have to go out sometime

155

G:

Okay (.) good deal=

156

D:

=Have fun

157

(0.2)

158

G:

Alright

159

D:

Okay

160

G:

Good

161

(.)

162

G:

See you later=

163

D:

=Talk to you later

164

G:

165

D: Gordon and Denise III: "Gordon's Account" (( 8+ minutes into call ))

1

S:

Well there's so many people in there

2 3

(0.5) S:

It's hard for everyone to co:me I guess

4

(1.2)

5

G:

Yea:h

6

G:

pt .hhhh I'd gone out a couple times with

7

this girl in A P O: like a couple a weeks

8

ago: (0.2) and u:h like- taken her to parties

9

and stuff and then- .hhhh toda:y I told her I

10

didn't want to g(h)o ou(h)t with her

11

anym(h)ore huh .hhh

12

S:

13

G:

Oh

hhh actually:s I'm glad she got the

14

message because we had nothing in common (.)

15

and we would like talk on the phone and we'd

16

go- (1.2)

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S:

18

G:

Hheh hh hh hh .eh .eh

19 20

(0.8) S:

Ehh hh

21

(0.5)

22

G:

23

S:

24

G:

25

S:

26

Ehh hh you gave her to the big punt huh 'hhhh

huh huh .hhh Dr:op kick

27

G:

28

G:

huh

huh

huh huh .hhhhh No:.

29 30

old one two

(.) G:

I mean she's a nice girl an everything but

31

then she sent me dumb gl- .hhhh see I'd like

32

for a whi:le then I like- just like didn't

33

call her: (.) for like

34

G:

all last week

.hhhh And like- er what- er- um- (0.8) pt

35

.hhh and the:n so she sends me this valentine

36

I got on Saturday it was like (0.3)

37

Is something wro:::ng and then- you kno:w if

38

you wanna- not go out anymore lemme kno:w

39

.zlike Oh good thiss my ticket to freedom

hhhhhh

40 41

S:

hh hh hh .eh .eh .hh hhh hh .eh

42

hh

43

G:

44

S:

Gordon Gordon Gordon

45

G:

I dunno

46 47

(0.3) S:

Did yôu get a valentine in the paper. . . ((call continues on other subjects))

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Verbal Play and Multiple Goals In the Gynaecological Exam Interaction 1 Sandra L. Ragan Department of Communication, The University of Oklahoma, Norman, OK 73019, USA Abstract This report investigates audio-taped gynaecological exam interactions that took place between one nurse practitioner and 41 female patients. Twelve instances of verbal play were transcribed from these exam conversations and analysed in order to demonstrate ways in which play sequences display participants' orientation to non-medical goals of the exam. Such goals include recognising the practitioner and patient as persons rather than as technician and technical object and reducing the face-threat of the exam. It is suggested that the analysis of naturally occurring conversation permits access to the conversational practices used by interactants both to generate and to achieve multiple goals. Extract (1) LNP:um we're now doin' a chlamydia test on the girls have you 1 read anything about chlamydia? 2 [ ] P: uh uh 3 LNP:okay chlamydia's a sexually transmitted disease 4 (1.5) P: Something new ha ha ha ha 5 [ ] LNP: 6 heh heh heh um hm something new to pick up= 7 P: =haha= 8 LNP:=and they're finding that uh girls usually don't have any 9 symptoms of it but if it goes untreated it could cause 10 scarring of the fallopian tubes 11 While laughter may indeed be the best medicine, the gynaecological exam is not a context in which we would expect it to surface, except, perhaps, for the occasional nervous twitters that accompany uncomfortable events. In the above con-

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versational fragment, a female nurse practitioner informs the patient in line 1 that the exam procedure now includes a chlamydia test; when the patient denies having read anything about chlamydia in line 3, the nurse explains that it's a sexually transmitted disease. After a brief pause in the interaction, the patient jokes 'something new', following this assessment with laughter. Describing a venereal disease as 'something new' gets interpreted as playful by the nurse, not only because of the patient's laughter that follows it, but also because of the incongruity of the use of the word 'new', which in our culture commonly means 'new and improved'. The nurse validates the laughability of the phrase through immediate shared laughter in line 6 and a repetition and extension of the patient's humour'something new to pick up'. In the midst of preparations for the pelvic exam, the nurse and patient have collaborated to produce a sequence of play which may be extraneous to the medical procedure of the exam but which, through its reliance on tacit knowledge, helps link nurse and patient as people cooperatively engaged in a task, rather than as mere technician and technical object. This report will analyse similar instances of verbal play as they appear in naturally occurring discourse between a licensed nurse practitioner and her female patients; its aim will be to demonstrate the ways in which play sequences display participants' orientation to nonmedical goals of the exam. Multiple Goals in the Gynaecological Exam Whereas multiple task and face goals likely operate in all interpersonal interactions (Craig, Tracy, & Spisak, 1986; O'Keefe & McCormack, 1987; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987; Tracy, 1984; Tracy & Moran, 1983), the unique medical context of the gynaecological exam suggests that multiple goals are both inherent and, potentially, in conflict; achieving the medical goal of the exam intrinsically threatens the face needs of both participants. The medical goal of the exam is explicit and unequivocal: the gynaecological exam is performed in order to diagnose and to treat disorders of the female reproductive system. Since the development of the Pap test, which is used to detect the early presence of cervical cancer, the exam has become a particularly critical intervention in the early diagnosis and treatment of women's reproductive cancers. This medical goal is paramount to both patient and health care practitioner in the exam procedure; thus the joint goal of cooperation is necessary to ensure that the medical process gets performed. Whereas the medical goal is the primary one in the gynaecological exam, the additional goal of preserving one's face needs (Brown & Levinson, 1987; Goffman, 1959, 1967, 1971) is uniquely experienced in this exam. Any medical examination is potentially threatening to patients' rights to privacy since the requirement to undress and to allow our body parts to be examined is generally proscribed in Western culture, except in the situations of lovemaking or a medical examination. The gynaecological exam poses special threats to both patient and practitioner, both because of the parts of the body to be examined and the positioning of the body necessary for the examination. The medical education litera-

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ture, in fact, reveals that the pelvic exam is perceived negatively by patients and medical practitioners alike. Research findings in medical education and women's health journals indicate that pelvic exams are abhorred by a great number of women (Domar, 1985/86), that such exams are dreaded, postponed, and seen as emotionally if not physically traumatising (Olson, 1981). One study (Weiss & Meadow, 1979) showed that 85% of female subjects reported negative feelings about their last pelvic exam, including descriptions of anxiety, vulnerability, humiliation, and dehumanisation. According to Domar (1985/86:75), 'the pelvic exam is one of the most common anxiety-producing medical procedures; it is certainly physically uncomfortable, embarrassing for some, and the nature of the lithotomy position strikes directly against traditional values such as modesty and respectability'. Alexander & McCullough discuss the exam as 'an extreme invasion of personal space' (1981: 123); Debrovner & Shubin-Stein (1975) found that women rarely overcome feelings of personal intrusion during a pelvic exam, regardless of how many prior exams they have experienced. Leserman & Luke (1982) reiterate that the cultural taboos associated with female genitalia make the teaching of the exam problematic as well. Traditional pelvic teaching techniques (generally incorporating the use of plastic, facsimile models instead of live patients) have not been designed to alleviate medical students' fears and anxieties about performing the exam, including fear of hurting the patient, sexual arousal, being judged inept and finding the exam unpleasant (Leserman & Luke, 1982). Apparently, practitioners' fears and anxieties about the pelvic exam continue past medical school training, as at least two studies have shown that physicians neglect the pelvic examination altogether in their conducting of a complete physical exam (Mudd & Fleiss, 1973; Balk, Dreyfus, & Harris, 1982). Tunnadine (1980) reports that other physicians have found ways to objectively conduct the exam, to dismiss emotions of embarrassment, pain, or sexual conflict by ritualising the exam into a clinical encounter which avoids emotional or sexual awareness. Emerson (1970) in her classic ethnographic study of the gynaecological exam discusses it as a precarious event in the sense that the exam must simultaneously sustain several contradictory definitions of reality. While she refers to these realities as the 'medical context' of the exam (i.e. treating the patient as technical object) and its 'counterdefinitions', (i.e. treating the patient as person and the pelvic area as different from other parts of the body in a physical exam), one could easily substitute 'medical goals' and 'face-preserving goals' for 'medical context' and 'counterdefinitions'. She explains that the patient must both be treated as technical object and simultaneously acknowledged as person in order to sustain the balance between medical and social goals. The Gynaecological Exam as a Face-Threatening Act It is apparent from the review of medical education literature that the gynaecological exam is uniquely anxiety-provoking to both participants. Whereas the need to preserve and maintain both one's own and one's partner's face in

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interaction has been widely discussed (Goffman, 1959; Brown & Levinson, 1987), the goal of face-protecting is particularly felt in a procedure which possibly is seen by both interactants as invasive, intruding on one's personal space and privacy, and culturally taboo. Brown & Levinson (1987: 65) discuss face-threatening acts as those verbal or non-verbal acts that intrinsically threaten face, 'those acts that by their nature run contrary to the face wants of the addressee and/or of the speaker'. Since the avoidance of embarrassment, humiliation, and 'emotional leakage' are seen as basic positive-face wants, the gynaecological exam can be viewed as a face-threatening act (FTA) to both patient and practitioner alike. Brown & Levinson (1987: 68) point out that rational actors will seek to avoid or minimise FTAs in the context of the mutual vulnerability of face, taking into account three wants: '(a) the want to communicate the content of the FTA x, (b) the want to be efficient or urgent, and (c) the want to maintain H's (Hearer's) face to any degree.' Only if (b) is greater than (c) will the actor not wish to minimise the threat of his/her FTA. In the gynaecological exam, all of these wants are, apparently, in tension: the FTA (the medical exam itself) must be performed; the exam must be performed efficiently; and yet the face-wants of both interactants must also be served insofar as possible, contingent of course on the importance which both practitioners and patients place on the need to attend to the nonmedical, personal goals of the exam. While the literature on multiple goals, face needs, and the gynaecological exam presumes a priori the existence of multiple goals for rational actors, do participants actually demonstrate an orientation to these multiple goals in their conversational practices? Further, if the gynaecological exam is a FTA with the attendant medical goal of an efficient examination and the simultaneous face-goals of minimising face threats for the participants, how do interactants accomplish these mutual, and perhaps competing, goals? This study proposes that the examination of naturally occurring discourse displays participants' orientation to multiple goals in the gynaecological exam through their mutual construction of verbal play. It suggests further that these episodes of play may function to ameliorate the tension between medical and face goals of the exam. Humour, Laughter and Play in the Medical Context Humour is rarely mentioned as characterising physician-patient communication. In fact, few studies of medical communication have investigated humour or laughter. West (1984b: 126) reports that the dearth of laughter in the 21 doctor-patient encounters she analysed suggests that 'doctor-patient talk contains few ''laughing matters'''. Communication scholars who have looked at the interpersonal dimensions of health care communication discuss composure, immediacy, formality, receptivity, and similarity (Burgoon, Pfau, Parrott, Birk, Coker & Burgoon, 1987) but do not focus on humour as a perceived feature of the interpersonal relationship between doctor and patient. The absence of laughter in physician-female patient interaction may be even more pronounced, according to the literature. Most researchers who have studied

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the gynaecological exam context refer only to its absence. The flavour of physician-patient interaction as reported by Todd (1984: 194), for example, suggests that laughter would be a scarce conversational resource: Dr Masters: Okay, now, honey, look, so that you don't get pregnant again, I want you to get this foam, okay? Patient: Um hm. Dr Masters: You go to the drugstore and get it, and then here are the instructions. Read it. Now it's very simple. (The female patient, notes Todd, has not been pregnant recently. Hence the physician's tone appears patronising and humourless in this context.) When humour is attempted between male physician and female patient, reports of its occurrence display physician control and interaction asymmetry. Emerson (1970: 89) cites the following encounter: '. . . a patient vehemently protests, "Oh, Dr. Raleigh, what are you doing?" Dr. Raleigh, exaggerating his southern accent, answers, "Nothin". His levity conveys: "However much you may dislike this, we have to go on with it for your own good. Since you know that perfectly well, your protest could not be calling for a serious answer".' In West's (1984b) analysis of laughter in physician-patient conversations, more instances of invitations to laugh were declined than accepted (see Jefferson, 1979), both by doctor and by patient; however, this pattern was markedly asymmetrical in that doctors joined in patient-initiated laughter far less often than patients joined in doctor-initiated laughter. Laughter was hardly a shared phenomenon, leading West to suggest that laughter ironically contributed to interaction asymmetry in doctor-patient talk rather than to relieving tension and reducing social distance. Humour appears neither a frequent nor a collaborative feature of most medical communication. Such is not the case in the data analysed for the present study in which shared laughter and mutually achieved verbal play appear important features of the interaction. Data Gathering and Analysis Female students, faculty, and staff at a large, southwestern university in the USA participated in this study based on their requests for contraception and/or annual gynaecological exams at the campus health center. The university health center employs a female nurse practitioner (LNP) who is licensed by the state to perform the majority of routine gynaecological examinations and to do contraceptive counselling. All women patients were asked to read a release form which explained the research project and to verbally signal their consent to participate in the study (i.e. to allow their interactions with the LNP to be audio-taped). 2 The university's institutional Review Board required that verbal rather than written consent be obtained in order to protect the patients' anonymity. A total of 56 women ranging in age from 18 to 33 (93% of the 60 women requesting contraception and/or gynaecological exams) agreed to participate in the study over a three month

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period in the spring of 1986. Due to a mechanical error in recording, only 41 of the 56 interactions were recorded in their entirety. The data, therefore, consist of these 41 tape-recorded interactions. Audio-taped recordings were made of the gynaecological interactions with the aid of a microphone that was suspended from the ceiling over the exam table. The recorded conversations were transcribed so that interactants' talk could be analysed, using the conversation analytic methods of Sacks, Schegloff, Jefferson, Pomerantz, West, Frankel, and others. Transcriptions in the text of this paper utilise the transcribing conventions of Jefferson as reported in Atkinson & Heritage (1984). Given the extant discourse analytic literature on interaction between women patients and health care practitioners (Todd, 1983, 1984; West, 1984a, 1984b), interaction which is reported to be largely devoid both of social discourse and of laughter, it was notable to hear in all 41 LNP-patient conversations an abundance of non-medical talke.g. shared stories, personal disclosures, and the like. A striking feature of the talk, again given expectations based on previous literature, was the presence of shared laughter in all but three of the exam interactions. Not only did shared laughter occur in the tapes collected for this study; patient and LNP occasionally joked or teased, engaging in which could be seen as verbal play. 15 instances of verbal play in 15 different interactions were transcribed; 12 of these are analysed in the current report. Recognising Play Sequences Unlike the research procedures of Glenn's and Knapp's study of play (1987), in which couples were instructed post hoc to identify segments of play from videotapes of their interactions, the researchers in the present study could use only auditory cues to isolate verbal play sequences. Shared laughter and exaggerated vocal intonation were the most frequently relied upon cues signalling the occurrence of play. But as Hopper (1987) notes in his examination of laughter and verbal imitation as play cues, both interactants must cooperate to construct the play frame. It is not one speaker's laughter, another's incongruous or absurd statement, or the first speaker's exaggerated vocal emphasis that specifically cue the frame 'this is play'; rather play is interactively achieved by participants. The distinction between shared laughter, joking/teasing, and verbal play is an important one. Whereas shared laughter is a probable indicator of play (see Glenn & Knapp, 1987; Hopper, 1987), it does not appear a sufficient demonstrator that participants are engaged in playful action in the data analysed for this study. In the following excerpt, for example, shared laughter occurs in lines 5 and 6, yet playful action in the sense of Bateson's (1972) and Goffman's (1974) notion of play does not. Extract (2) LNP:Well if you can remember to keep your tummy muscles 1 relaxed and your thigh muscles as relaxed as possible 2

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3 it's real hard to do when especially when you're (.hhh) 4 uptight=  5P: =Well isn't everybody? heh heh heh  6LNP:heh heh uh yeah (.hhh) but you know if you tighten those up 7 it tightens up your vaginal muscles okay? 8P: Umhm. Play as a collaboratively achieved feature of talk requires both invitation to play and uptake, i.e. a response that appreciates or extends the other's attempt at levity. Thus, while shared laughter and exaggerated intonation were cues signalling the possibility of play, a conversational sequence was not designated as play for this analysis unless both participants displayed an orientation to the conversation as 'being engaged in playful activity'. The remainder of this essay will explore these collaboratively designed instances of verbal play and will discuss ways in which play sequences in the gynaecological interaction surface the non-medical goals of recognising practitioner and patient as persons (rather than as technician and technical object) and redressing the FTA of the exam, thus serving mutual positive-face goals of participants. First the exam environment in which play sequences are embedded warrants description. The Interaction Context of Play The play described in this study takes the form of a humourous side sequence (Jefferson, 1972) embedded within the exam activity itself. Since there is no video record of the exam, it is not possible to ascertain whether the nonverbal procedures of the exam stop for verbal play. The transcripts, however, suggest that the medical procedure is ongoing in that the LNP directly comments on it, as in these extracts: Extract (3) LNP:have have you noticed after you've been on the pills that 1 your periods are don't last as long or are they shorter or= 2 P: =yes they are shorter 3 (8.5) LNP:It's a lot nicer havin' em for a shorter length of time isn't it 4 heh heh heh 5 [ ] P: 6 heh heh yes it is LNP:(bet) you can tell just like clockwork too when you have 7 your periods can't ya? 8 P: Umhm. 9 LNP:plan holidays around them heh heh heh 10 [ ] P: heh heh heh= 11

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 12LNP: = (vacations) no abnormal tenderness in here is there 14P: No Extract (4) 1 LNP:I can always tell when I drink too much coffee. I get irri2 tated and I have to eliminate more frequently [ ] 3 P: Do you? hm 4 LNP:So it definitely does have (an effect) [ ] 5 P: I don't have coffee (addiction) I'm 6 glad= 7 LNP:= I definitely have a coffee addiction [ ] 8 P: heh heh heh I'm not interested in 9 it at all: it tastes terrible=  10LNP:=now I'm gonna check the outside of your vaginal area first 11 okay= 12P: =okay= 13LNP:=what I'm checking for is any abnormal discharge or lumps or 14 masses that you might not be aware of.

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Play sequences are embedded within the exam procedures. More interesting is the sequential environment in which play occurs. In all 41 gynaecological exams, medical format consisted of this invariant sequencing of events: explanation of procedures and lab tests to be run; breast exam; pelvic exam; and contraceptive fitting or prescription. In 13 of 15 instances, play sequences were located in talk immediately before, during, or after the pelvic examination itself. One would speculate the pelvic exam to be the place in the gynaecological exam at which face threats to both practitioner and patient are severe, due to the invasive procedure of the internal examination and the attendant possibilities of mutual embarrassment and awkwardness. Frankel (1983: 44) reports on the use of questions by pediatricians in examining their young patients; through videotape, he demonstrates that questions 'direct the visual attention of the patient away from the work of the hands and to the task of conversing'. While videotaping was proscribed in the gynaecological exam context, one assumes that verbal play might function similarly to questions in Frankel's study: in the part of the exam that is most threatening to medical personnel and patient alike, laughter might well be directing the patient's as well as the medical caregiver's focus away from any uncomfortable aspects of the exam process. This appears plausible, even though, ironically, the topic of humour is often the exam process itself. Jointly produced verbal play may function to move participants to a level of interacting that redresses the potential face threat of the exam.

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A frequent feature of the talk in which play is embedded is a pause - sometimes lengthy - immediately preceding the onset of play, as these fragments show: Extract (5) 1 LNP: Are you doin' okay? 2 P: he heh heh alright yeah::  (2.7)  3 LNP: NOT always the best thing to do is it 4 P: heh heh heh (a little) [ ] 5 LNP: NEVER (just the) thing to spend your afternoon [ ] [ ] 6 P: heh heh heh heh he heh 7 I can think of a lot of other things heh heh heh [ ] heh heh heh oh yes:: 8 LNP: Definitely= 9 10:P: =heh heh heh heh. Extract (6) 1 P: oh little socks on it how nice hemh hemh hemh hemh 2 LNP:a lot better than cold steel 3 P: oh yeah: really:: (2.4) 4 LNP:Scoot all the way down here. 5 P: Okay.  (4.8)  6: LNP:(See I jus' think) they oughtta put these little messages on the 7 ceiling here ( ) [ ] 8 P: Umhm? 9: LNP:I'm all for it (you know) (pictures) of naked men up (figures) 10 there [ ] 11 P: heh heh heh heh Think think they oughtta do something like that 12 LNP:I got my priorities. 13 P: Really. Extract (7)  (14.5)  1 LNP:Is it pretty outside? 2 P: It's gorgeous=

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3 4 5:

LNP:=ha ha ha ha you could have lied. P:

It's kind of windy but other than that it's pretty nice

LNP You could have lied ha ha []

6 7 8

P:

hehhehheh= LNP:= I haven't been out since six o'clock this morning P:

Alright it's really windy and it's really terrible I mean= [

9 10

LNP: P:

]

THANK YOU! =horrible! heh heh heh heh [

11 12 13 14 15

LNP: P:

ha ha you love every minute of it ha ha ha heh heh=

LNP:=let your knees kinda fall to side there you go (0.5) okay no problems with abnormal discharge or itching in your genital area?

Again, without benefit of video record, there is no way to detect what nonverbal activity may occasion the beginnings of verbal play; yet in each of the above, play commences after the pause and either during (Extract 5) or immediately before the pelvic exam begins (Extracts 6 and 7). In Extract 5, the context preceding line 1 is that the LNP has begun the pelvic exam - hence her remark in line 1, 'Are you doin' okay?'; in (6) she is readying the patient physically for the exam in her instruction in line 4, 'Scoot all the way down here', and in (7) it is probable that the patient is physically readying herself for the exam as the LNP instructs in line 13, 'let your knees kinda fall to side'. Thus, both the sequencing of verbal play either before, during, or after the pelvic examand the pause in the interaction sequence which immediately precedes its onset suggest that patient and practitioner orient to the situation of the pelvic exam as face-threatening, and attempt through levity to redress its impact. The specific ways in which verbal play evidences this redressing, while also acknowledging the personal identities of the interactants, is explicated in the section to follow. Analysis of Play Sequences Brown & Levinson (1987) discuss redressive action as attempts to counteract the potential face damage of FTA by indicating that no face threat is intended or desired. Positive politeness is redress that appreciates the wants of the interactants in general or expresses similarity between interactants' wants through three broad strategies: claiming common ground; conveying that interactants are cooperators; and actually fulfilling interactants' wants. In the play sequences analysed for this report, shared humour hinges on commonality and cooperation. The invitation to play and its uptake display participant recognition of a shared background of values and beliefs; i.e. the very occurrence of play is contingent

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upon interactants' common attitudes about gynaecology and the gynaecological exam, as displayed in the following extracts: Extract (8) LNP:All done: (2.4) that's it: 1 (3.5) P: (hhh) Gee that was fun. 2 [ ] LNP: 3 heh heh heh heh heh [ ] P: 4 heh heh heh heh heh heh heh (1.2) LNP:oh you wanna do it again? heh heh heh= 5 P: =heh heh heh 6 LNP:Okay so I'll run all this stuff to the lab. 7 Extract (9) LNP:Do you usually wear tampons or pads= 1 P: =usually always tampons until it's over with because I hate 2 pads. LNP:uhhum. 4 P: I mean I hate this part of being a girl in fact heh heh heh= 5 LNP:=heh heh heh heh DON'T LIKE THIS AT ALL::: = 6 P: =heh heh heh I uh= 7 LNP:=if you're going to wear tampons change them every two 8 hours and also um make sure they're not the deodorant kind. 9 In Extracts (8) above and (5) (see page 69), humour revolves around the held-in-common cultural belief that the gynaecological exam is an unpleasant experience, at least for the patient. In (8) the nurse has just concluded the pelvic exam and announces in line 1 that it's 'all done'. Her laughter following the patient's 'Gee that was fun' in line 2 displays recognition of the ironic intent of the comment, recognising if not corroborating the patient's attitude that pelvic exams could not be fun. The patient's shared laugher at line 4 validates this interpretation, as does the nurse's returned facetious question'Oh you wanna do it again?'at line 5. Similarly in (5), during the course of the pelvic exam, the nurse comments that the exam is 'not always the best thing to do is it'both the humorous understatement of the comment and the tag question display that the nurse presumes that the patient does not find the exam pleasant. The patient again validates this presumption with laughter at lines 4 and 6, and both nurse and patient collaborate in lines 5-10 to expand the understatement that there are definitely more pleasant ways to spend one's afternoon than participating in a pelvic exam. These play sequences reduce the face-threat of the exam in that the nurse presumes an understanding of the patient's dislike of the exam and the patient corroborates to validate her perspectivethus, play produces a shared, mutually constructed definition of the situation.

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In Extracts (3) (see page 73) and (9) above, the nurse again employs a cooperative strategy (Brown & Levinson, 1987) in assuming a knowledge of the patient's attitudes toward menstruation. In (3), humour rests on the nurse's presumption that the patient appreciates the shorter, more regular periods that are side effects of the birth control pill. In a series of questions extolling these virtues of the pill to the patient, the nurse humorously points out at line 10 that the patient can even 'plan holidays' around her periods. Again, the tag questions at lines 4, 7 and 12 invite the patient into conversation while also presuming knowledge of her attitudes. The patient validates the playfulness of the sequence through her laughter at lines 6 and 11; she also validates the nurse's presumption that she prefers shorter periods by agreeing with this assertion in line 6. Extract (9) is curious in that the nurse in line 6 appears to mock the patient's attitudes toward her periods. Whereas this remark might enhance rather than redress face threat, there are several conversational features that frame the nurse's teasing remark as humorous rather than as inappropriate/untoward. First, the patient invites the nurse's laughter with her post-utterance laughter in line 5 after acknowledging, 'I hate this part of being a girl', to which the nurse responds with laughter and an exaggerated restatement - 'Don't like this at all' - in line 6. But, in addition, the nurse's tease displays understanding and humorous appreciation of the patient's attitude, such understanding made possible by the commonly held cultural belief that menstruation is, at best, a nuisance. In another instance, the nurse compares her dispensing of contraceptive pill packets (line 1) to giving a 'graduation present' (line 3). That the patient responds to this with laughter and an appreciation component- 'much needed'- in line 4 confirms the nurse's presumption that the patient recognises and appreciates the gift analogy, thus evidencing a shared belief about the pill. The nurse extends the play in lines 5-6, 8, and 12 by presuming that the patient's boyfriend, too, will appreciate this 'gift' and that she should be voted 'the most popular woman on campus' - remarks that otherwise could be seen as inappropriately intimate and intrusive. The patient's laughter in lines 9, 11, and 13 displays agreement with the nurse's exaggerated self-appreciation, such agreement evidencing that the nurse has correctly assessed the patient's attitude about the pill. This sequence thus produces solidarity by showing nurse and patient to hold in common the belief that the contraceptive pill is valued in the patient's sexual relationship. Extract (10) LNP: So this would be like May June July ( )= 1 [ ] P: 2 Okay great thanks: LNP: =graduation present= 3 P: =heh heh heh much: needed= 4 LNP: =Much: needed:: present yes you and your boyfriend will 5 appreciate it? 6 [ ] P: heh heh heh 7

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LNP: I should be voted the most popular woman= 8 [ 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

P:

heh heh heh heh

LNP: =on campus= P:

heh heh heh heh

[ ] LNP: heh heh heh most appreciated. They just don't know it.= P:

=heh heh heh=

LNP: so if you have any problems come on back down= P:

=okay.

Still other instances of verbal play display in-group membership, another strategy that claims common ground and thus helps redress potential face-threat (Brown & Levinson, 1987). In Extract (6) (earlier), the nurse's invitation to play at lines 6-7 and line 9 cast her as a member of the same group as the patient in wanting pictures of naked men on the ceiling above the examining table. The patient's appreciation of this levity at line 11 corroborates the nurse's perspective. Both the invitation to play and the uptake (line 11) display that nurse and patient hold in common certain views about the exam and about the outgroupmen. Play thus serves a solidarity goal in this instance. Similarly, in Extract 11, play revolves around the nurse's admission that she, too, is a member of that group of 'girls' who sit under a sun lamp to get a tan. The nurse's question 'have you been sitting under a sun lamp?' in line 3 could again be seen as inappropriately intimate and face-threatening since she is commenting on non-medical aspects of the patient's naked body, yet the ensuing conversation counters this interpretation. The patient's confirmation and laughter in line 4 is greeted with laughter by the nurse in line 5 and further 'confession' by the patient in line 6at this point, the humour seems to rest only in the nurse's 'discovery' of the patient's tan and the patient's admission of its source. In lines 7-8, however, the nurse finally 'confesses' that she, too, has been tanning under a sun lampnot only does this self-disclosure achieve solidarity between the two as members belonging to the group of sun-lamp tanners; it also establishes the nurse as a person outside her technical role as examiner. Likewise, the nurse's potentially face-threatening question in line 3 is apparently interpreted by the patient as acknowledgment of her as a person with a life outside the medical context, thus possibly reducing the face threat of the awkward physical act of 'scooting to the head of the table' after the pelvic exam. Extract (11) LNP:Okay everything feels fine (.) go ahead and scoot to the head of 1 the table a little bit I don't wanna lose you off the edge here. 2 (0.5) have you been sitting under a sun lamp? 3 P: some heh heh heh heh 4 [ ]

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5

6

LNP:

P:

ha ha you can always tell the girls who ( ) [ ] ) ha ha ha ha I don't admit it to most people ( [

7

LNP:

ha ha 'at's okay. I've been doin' it too so I (

8

[ 9 10 11

]

)= ]

P:

ha ha ha ha LNP:=um if anything like I said abnormal shows up I'll be sure to let you know.

In the next instance, verbal play displays nurse and patient as members of a group who are familiar with the Dracula legend, but who also, and more intimately, find feminine odour a topic of shared humour. Extract (12) P: Well I've even heard to take a clove of garlic for yeast infec1 tions a clove of garlic and wrap it in= 2 [ ] LNP: 3 No P: = I've never tried it though 4 LNP: I don't think I would try it because= 5 P: =but I mean I heard all sorts of weird things but that actually 6 that was in Our Bodies Ourselves I think that's where I got it 7 from. 8 LNP: Was it? 9 P: A clove of garlic um hum but I think I did read something 10 about the um baking soda water 11 LNP: One thing I can think of with the clove of garlic is your 12 mucus membranes absorb the um you know the odour so uh heh heh 13 heh P: [ ] 14 ha ha ha ha ha ha heh heh heh that would definitely keep Dracula away= 15 LNP: Especially for that area you know ha ha ha you don't have to 16 worry about that area at all um what I'll do is go ahead and go 17 LNP: around and get a prescription signed for you. 18 P:. Okay 19 In lines 1-11, the patient discusses a folk remedy for curing yeast infections with a clove of garlic. At line 12, the nurse invites play by switching from the patient's medical talk to humorous speculation about vaginal odour that would ensue if one placed garlic in 'that area'. The patient responds with shared laughter at lines 14 and 15, extending the levity by invoking the Dracula legend. The nurse's appreciation in lines 16 and 17 corroborates the shared female experience of both realis-

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ing and making light of the cultural taboo of vaginal odour. Both the intimate topic of play and the in-common social knowledge of these women promote solidarity between them. Some Comments on the Bonding Function of Play Play by its very nature is created interactively (Bateson, 1972; Gleen & Knapp, 1987; Goffman, 1974; Hopper, 1987). In fact, the conversational design of play is an invitation to play, followed by a response/uptake that signifies that the second speaker recognises and validates the preceding utterance as humorous. If we were to conceptualise verbal play as one or more sequences of adjacency pairs, we would discover the pattern of invitation/acceptance; further expansion of play/ acceptance, and so forth. That the acceptance of a play invitation is a requisite of play facilitates social solidarity between players. Perhaps that is why the literature on play abounds with testimony of its positive function in intimate relationships in enhancing communication, generating bonds, reducing tension and helping to moderate conflict (Betcher, 1981). Glenn & Knapp (1987: 50) in summarising the functions of play assert: 'Play seems to be an important act in preserving both individual and relational equilibrium'. As an interactive, cooperative, relational phenomenom, play intrinsically recognises the other as worthy of engaging in play with, hence, its unique bonding potential. In the date analysed for this study, the face-threat of the gynaecological exam occasions levity, which becomes verbal play when the other interactant displays recognition and acceptance of the play invitation. Since play is interactively constructed around shared attitudes and common in-group membership, it redresses the face-threat of the exam as well as acknowledges the practitioner and patient as more than mere technician and technical object. That play is a necessarily collaborative phenomenon serves the positive face-goals of both participants: Inviting and accepting play are acts which recognise the other's face needs; moreover, the mutual construction of play expresses the message, 'we're cooperating in thisplay and examtogether'. Whereas humour, joking, or teasing can be achieved at the expense of the other, play enhances both self and otherhence its interpersonal value. Thus, in the gynaecological exam context, verbal play accomplishes the multiple goals of personally recognising both practitioner and patient as well as reducing the face-threat of the exam. Moreover, since play can be conducted concurrently with the examining process, it also facilitates rather than disrupts the medical goal of the exam, similarly to the way in which touch facilitates the pediatric exam (Frankel, 1983). Play then serves to mitigate the intrinsic conflict between medical and face goals in the gynaecological exam. Conclusion The multiple goals literature suggests that rational actors attend both to task and face goals in their discourse, strategically structuring discourse to attain these goals. This analysis of verbal play suggests that it may also be useful to begin with

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discourse itself in examining multiple goals. Discourse and conversation analysis provide the methodological advantage of permitting the data to actually display participants' awareness of and orientation to interaction goals. That practitioner and patient engaged in verbal play during the most precarious moments of the gynaecological exam evidences the goals of mutual face-preserving and social bonding in the context of a mutually face-threatening act. Naturally occurring conversation grants access to the conversational practices whereby which interactants both generate and achieve multiple goals. On a more pragmatic level, this study raises the question of whether verbal play is perceived by interactants as redressing a potentially face-threatening act, both in the gynaecological exam and, possibly, in other contexts as well. Brown's & Levinson's (1987) politeness theory would suggest so, but participants' perspectives also could enhance our assessment of the value of play as a social bonding/ solidarity strategy in non-intimate as well as intimate relationships. Of course, it must be emphasised that the play analysed for this report consisted of play between women who were engaged in a procedure for women. In fact, much of the verbal play described in this report could be enacted only between women since the topics of humour revolved around women's uniquely shared attitudes and experiences. It would be interesting to note the conversational consequences in the gynaecological exam, for example, if either male practitioner or a female patient being examined by him, attempted levity around the subject of the exam's unpleasantness. Shared gender might prove a critical component of the efficacy of play in serving participants' face needs, at least in some contexts. The co-construction of play in the exam sequences also raises questions about social status and play: does play get enacted only when status differences outside its context yield to egalitarianism within? When participants engage in play, do they necessarily leave their social/professional roles outside its frame? Other studies of verbal play have looked at peers in non-professional contexts (Glenn & Knapp, 1987; Hopper, 1987; Labov, 1972). In the current study, role differences certainly exist, yet they are not so profound as those in Todd's, West's, or Emerson's physician-patient conversations, in which humorous episodes either did not exist or else took a very different, asymmetrical shape. Do the willingness to play and the occurrence of play serve as levellers, momentarily obscuring status asymmetry? If so, then play may function in many professinal contexts in which it is necessary to display technical competence while also affirming personal and face goals; i.e. play may help link the multiple, antithetical goals of our high-tech/ high-touch society. The paradox, of course, is that the accomplishments of play are largely unintentional. Play cannot be strategically planned; its very nature suggests that an instruction to 'do play' would constitute a double bind of the same order as 'be spontaneous'. Thus, verbal play will hardly get incorporated into corporate manuals as a management tactica boon to those of us who appreciate its art and its mystery.

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Notes 1. The author wishes to thank Michael Pagano for his assistance in data collection and Phil Glenn, Karen Tracy, Nikolas Coupland, and Anita Pomerantz for their helpful suggestions in data analysis. 2. The preferred research design would be to both audio- and video-tape the gynaecological exam interactions; however, the unique nature of this medical interaction naturally precluded our attaining permission to use a video camera. It is unfortunate, therefore, that we were unable to make a video record of the interactions and to coordinate verbal with nonverbal communication in the exam procedures. That lengthy silences in conversation were found immediately preceding the onset of verbal play sequences (as described on pages 12-13) makes the lack of a video record particularly felt. Nonverbal interaction accompanying those silences no doubt would provide rich clues as to what sort of events precipitate and signal the beginning of play. References Alexander, K. and McCullough, J. (1981) Women's preference for gynecological examiners: Sex versus role. Women & Health 6, 123-34. Atkinson, J. M. and Heritage, J. (eds) (1984) Structures of Social Action: Studies in Conversation Analysis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Balk, S., Dreyfus, N. and Harris, P. (1982) Examinations of genitalia in children: The remaining taboo. Pediatrics 70, 751-53. Bateson, G. (1972) Steps to an Ecology of Mind. New York: Ballantine. Betcher, R. W. (1981) Intimate play and marital adaptation. Psychiatry 44, 13-33. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. C. (1987) Politeness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burgoon, J. K., Pfau, M., Parrott, R., Birk, T., Coker, R. and Burgoon, M. (1987) Relational communicaiton, satisfaction, compliance-gaining strategies and compliance in communication between physicians and patients. Communication Monographs 54, 307-24. Craig, R. T., Tracy K., and Spisak, F. (1986) The discourse of requests: Assessment of a politeness approach. Human Communication Research 12, 437-68. Debrovner, C. and Shubin-Stein, R. (1975) Psychological aspects of vaginal examinations. Medical Aspects of Human Sexuality 9, 163-4. Domar, A. D. (1985/86) Psychological aspects of the pelvic exam: Individual needs and physician involvement. Women & Health 10, 75-90. Emerson, J. (1970) Behavior in private places: Sustaining definitions of reality in gynecological examinations. In H. P. Dreitzel (ed.) Recent Sociology, No. 2: Patterns of Communicative Behavior. New York: Macmillan. Frankel, R. M. (1983) The laying on of hands: Aspects of the organization of gaze, touch, and talk in a medical encounter. In S. Fisher and A. D. Todd (eds) The Social Organization of Doctor-Patient Communication. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics Press. Glenn, P. J. and Knapp, M. L. (1987) The interactive framing of play in adult conversations. Communication Quarterly 35,4867. Goffman, E. (1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor Books. (1967) Interaction Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behavior. Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor Books. (1971) Relations in Public. New York: Harper & Row. (1974) Frame Analysis: An Essay on the Organization of Experience New York: Harper & Row.

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Hopper, R. (1987) Beginning to play: Reflections on Bateson's 'Theory of Play and Fantasy'. Papers from the Western Speech Communication Association Annual Conference, February, Salt Lake City. Jefferson, G. (1972) Side sequences. In D. Sudnow (ed.) Studies in Social Interaction. New York: Free Press. (1979) A technique for inviting laughter and its subsequent acceptance/declination. In G. Psathas (ed.) Everyday Language: Studies in Ethnomethodology. New York: Irvington. Labov, W. (1972) Rules for ritual insults. In D. Sudnow (ed.) Studies in Social Interaction. New York: Free Press. Leserman, L. and Luke, S. C. (1982) An evaluation of an innovative approach to teaching the pelvic examination to medical students. Women & Health 7, 31-42. Mudd, J. and Fleiss, J. (1973) Physical examination of hospitalized adults. Journal of Medical Education 48, 1140-7. O'Keefe, B. J. and McCornack, S. A. (1987) Message design logic and message goal structure: Effects on perceptions of message quality in regulative communication situations. Human Communication Research 14, 68-92. O'Keefe, B. J. and Shepherd, G. J. (1987) The pursuit of multiple objectives in face-to-face persuasive interactions: Effects of construct differentiation on message organization. Communciation Monographs 54, 396-419. Olson, B. (1981) Patient comfort during pelvic examiantion: New foot supports vs. metal stirrups. JOGN- Nursing 10, 104-7. Todd, A. D. (1983) A diagnosis of doctor-patient discourse in the prescription of contraception. In S. Fisher and A. D. Todd (eds) The Social Organization of Doctor-Patient Communication. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics Press. (1984) The prescription of contraception: Negotiations between doctors and patients. Discourse Processes 7, 171-200. Tracy, K. (1984) The effect of multiple goals on conversatinal relevance and topic shift. Communication Monographs 51, 27487. Tracy, K. and Moran, J. P. (1983) Conversational relevance in multiple goal settings. In R. T. Craig and K. Tracy (eds) Conversational Coherence: Form, Structure, and Strategy. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Tunnadine, P. (1980) The role of genital examination in psychosexual medicine. Clinics in Obstetrics and Gynecology 7, 28391. Weiss, L. and Meadow, R. (1979) Women's attitudes toward gynecological practices. Obstetrics and Gynecology 54, 110-14. West, C. (1984a) Medical misfires: Mishearings, misgivings, and misunderstandings in physician-patient dialogues. Discourse Processes 7 107-34. (1984b) Routine Complications: Troubles with Talk Between Doctors and Patients. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

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Accounts, Formulations and Goal Attainment Strategies in Service Encounters 1 Christine Iacobucci Speech Communication, Ithaca College, Ithaca, NY 14850, USA Abstract Despite its apparently relational function, account giving is found during the course of goal completion in such task-oriented activities as service encounters. The present case involves calls to a telephone company relating to billing troubles. The analysis presented here reveals that nominally relation-oriented talk is not always indicative of relational goals, but can be used as a strategy to achieve a task goal. This strategy, however, creates the potential for a coordination problem between participants, which, in turn, creates a need to negotiate the synchronising of institutional customer goals. The present analysis reveals that when coordination problems occur, formulations are used to redirect the talk, such that both participants orient in real-time to complementary goals. Introduction Service encounters are clearly drawn instances where participants' goals, be they more or less complementary, have to be achieved by means of verbal interaction. Previous discourse analytic research on service encounters has been concerned with the alignment of customer needs with servicer strategies (and hence, implicitly, the alignment of participant goals), though primarily in a retail context (Lamoureux, 1989; Merrit, 1976; Ventola, 1987). The purpose of the present paper is to build upon this research by examining data collected in a different service encounter context, one in which customers called a telephone company with troubles they needed to have resolved. In particular the paper displays how accounts and formulations are used in some previously unrecognised ways to both create and resolve coordination problems in these encounters. The paper proceeds as follows. First I provide a brief description of the discourse data on which this analysis is based. Then after overviewing prior work on telephone service encounters, I describe a typical pattern observed in these conversational exchanges. Next I identify a coordination problem that occurred -a problem, I argue, which is related at least partly to customers furnishing

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unsolicited and out-of-place accounts. In addition I show how customers' account-giving functioned in an identifiably different way than prior research has identified. Finally, I illustrate how these coordination problems were resolved by service representatives using formulations which implicitly directed attention toward institutionally-mandated goals. Description of Discourse Data The analysis to be reported here is based on close study of 40 telephone conversations during which customers called into a major telephone company and discussed their billing troubles with one of the telehone company representatives on call. These data are a sample of a larger corpus of calls which were audio taped by the company for in-house analysis. Neither representatives nor customers were aware of the taping. The researcher was given access to the set of audio tapes which were then transcribed using a simplified modification of Jefferson's conventions (see Atkinson & Heritage, 1984; ix-xvi). Names, telephone numbers, and other identifying information have been changed or deleted to ensure anonymity. Briefly overviewing the data, when customers describe the specifics of their billing problems to the company representative, there is an overwhelming tendency for them, in doing so, to offer accounts (Scott & Lyman, 1968)justifications and explanations of their requestswhich involve descriptions of personal circumstances surrounding the trouble. At first sight, this is a puzzling feature, since it is not clear that accounts are necessary to the negotiated outcome, and the representative does not explicitly elicit them. A second recurrent feature of these interactions is that the representatives' response to customers' accounts is to recast the queries and their associated accounts into explicitly 'business' service requests. Such rephrasings are in the general form of what have been termed formulations by Heritage & Watson (1979). They are offered as restatements, or in this case re-aligned glosses, of what the customer has said. Heritage & Watson characterise these acts as devices used to check or display correct understanding. However, in the present data, the representatives' formulations do not simply restate the customers' prior talkand thus, we can assume they are implicated in the fulfillment of some other, institutionally-mandated, goal. The use of accounts by customers when they are not elicited and are seemingly out-of-place, and the use of formulations to do work other than demonstrate understanding, and their functioning in service encounter talk, are the principal issues which this paper addresses. Both processes end up being suggestive about the way participants' goals are managed in discourse, and about the relationship between institutional and customer goals and priorities. Situated Function of Account-giving A distinction between behaviours or goals that are task-oriented versus relation-oriented has a long history in human interaction research. Bales' (1950)

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method for analysing small group interaction categorised behaviours by means of a basic task/relation dichotomy, and the categorisation assumes that relation-oriented talk serves relational goals, and task-oriented talk serves task gaols. Fisher (1970a), Scheidel & Crowell (1964), and Tuckman (1965), for instance, analyse group-member behaviour by treating task and relational dimensions of group interactions separately. More recently, Gouran, Brown & Henry (1978) and Poole (1983), among other small group researchers, analyse group decision-making by using adaptations of Bales' (1950) Interaction Process Analysis (IPA). This distinction is typically made in terms of features of talk; statements made by participants are categorised as either contributing to the task component of the interaction, or to the socio-emotional component. Following this approach, we would define relation-oriented talk as talk which is structured to affect and is affected by the personal dynamics of the encounter. The talk is concerned with and acts upon interpersonal matters such as how self presentation and attributions define the rights and obligations of the participants in the relationship, which ultimately has consequences for how participants will treat each other. Task-oriented talk, on the other hand, is structured to affect only the impersonal matters which are being discussed or acted upon. It is talk which is carried out between participants in terms of their social positions to coordinate action on some impersonal procedure or object, not in terms of their interpersonal relationship. That accounts are used for relational purposes, as face-work devices, is a recurrent theme in the account literature (Blatz, 1972; Blumstein, 1974; Goffman, 1971; Shields, 1979, for example). More recently, Tedeshi & Reiss (1981) describe accounts as impression management devices, and Buttny (1985) claims that accounts are used when a problematic event during an interaction threatens an individual's face. Therefore, following the rigid distinction discussed above, the accounts we shall see are offered by the telephone customers to the representatives should be construed as relation-oriented talk, offered to affect the way the account giver will be perceived, and consequently treated, according to the face they maintain (positive or negative Brown & Levinson, 1978), during the encounter. For example, we could understand the accounts occurring in these datasuch as claiming injury, innocence, special needs, indignation, and the likeas attempts to protect positive face or to repair the face-threat involved in seeking to promote the customers' position (getting financial recompense). Recent work on goal attainment through conversation maintains the task/ relation distinction to assert the task goals and relational goals are pursued concurrently. O'Keefe & Shepherd (1987) and O'Keefe (1988), for example, develop an analysis of the 'impression formation/message production relationship' by treating participant task wants and face-work as separate but simultaneous goals, both addressable at the same time in a given turn at talk. The accounting phenomenon observed in customer reports of troubles to a service institution could thus be understood as consonant with O'Keefe's view that social actors have multiple (task and relational) goals in conversation. The accounts could then be interpreted as serving the relational (face) goals of the interaction, concurrently with, but separately from talk serving task goals.

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However, Goffman (1967) contends that while face-work/identity management is an inherent and necessary condition of interaction, it is not a goal in itself. And Fisher, in his later work (1980), alludes to the problem of whether the two 'dimensions' of task and relation can be distinguished 'neatly', even for analytic purposes. On that basis, an equally possible explanation of the customers' use of accounts in presenting troubles to representatives is that rather than having multiple goals, customers have only one overarching goal which is task-oriented and which is generally the complement of the company representatives' goal, namely to solve the customers' trouble, though within the structure provided by the company. The customers' strategy could be understood as including the use of accounts to establish injury, innocence, etc., to justify remediation as the outcome of work on the task, not primarily in response to the face-threat posed by the billing trouble. From this perspective, seemingly relationoriented talk would occur reflecting the customer's understanding of how to go about achieving the task-goal, even though this understanding differs from that of the company representative. The analysis of the transcripts below is supportive of this latter general explanation. The Nature of Telephone Service Calls Schegloff's (1986) work on telephone calls to service institutions describes a modified organisation of everyday telephone call openings. And, while Whalen & Zimmerman (1987) hae described telephone openings for emergency calls based upon Schegloff's model, they indicate that the specialisation of telephone openings is shaped by the institutional setting or context of the call. This is borne out here with the following specialised opening sequence. The telephone conversations typically begin when a representative answers a customer call with a company and/or a self-identification. S/he then asks the customer for his/her telephone number, which identifies the caller's billing record, and then asks for either the name on the bill or the name of the caller. After this identification opening, the representative begins the body of the conversation with a query regarding the customer's reason for calling. As Whalen & Zimmerman (1987) observe, the opening sequence of a telephone call to a service institution constrains the caller's first turn to a first topic or 'reason for call'. The compiled list of customers' reasons-for-call gives us a preliminary specification of customer task-goals. Customers call to obtain location information for calls appearing on their bill which they do not recognise as being ones they've made, to obtain credit for those unrecognised calls, and to discuss balances due and other billing information. The data suggest that the major task-goals of the company representatives are complementary to the customer task-goals, and thus involve taking appropriate action (by company standards) to resolve any one or more of taskrelevant customer problems. These actions include identifying for the customer the recipients of unrecognised calls on the customer's bill, giving credit for unrecognised calls, and other repairs of billing problems. Additionally, if the customer needs a service the representative is not

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equipped to provide, the latter refers the customer to the appropriate office. The items included in this set allow us to specify, again at a general level, company task-goals. The company representative is thus oriented toward helping the customer with the customer's reason-for-call. The following extracts demonstrate this. Extract One 1R:[Company Name] billing. This is Mark. May I help you? 2C:Yes. I would like to ask about an adjustment for my bill please. 3R:Okay. What is your phone number? Extract Two 1R:Okay, what can I do for you? 2C:We got a few phone calls we never made. 3R:Okay. What are the dates of the calls? Extract Three 1R:Okay, how can I help you? 2C:On the current bill there are some phone numbers that I haven't been able to identify. I wonder if I could talk to somebody to tell me who they went to. 3R:Okay. If you give the dates and places called I can go ahead and try to figure out which ones you are talking about. It can be seen from these extracts that the reason for the call (turn 2 in each extract) given by the customer is followed by an affirmation by the representative, signalled here by the word, 'okay'. The 'okay' presumably indicates that the representative has heard the customer's utterance, and is now ready to initiate the next step of the interaction. It is interesting to note that the use of 'okay' throughout the data is used by the representatives in this way, whether the next action facilitates the customer's task-goal or not, as illustrated in the following two extracts. 'Okay' is thus not be taken as an endorsement of the customer's particular expected outcome-goal itself. Extract Four C:Okay. I'm uhm I'm . .The date on it is the tenth. I uhmmm. Monday I 1 made Monday (0.5) I don't know what day that was, but, anyways, I made a two hundred dollar payment and I owe (0.2) one hundred and twenty three dollars 1-less and I want to m-make that ah next week.. R:Okay ma'am I'm sorry the (0.2) p-payment would need to be received 2 by the seventeenth. Extract Five C:My phone was shut off (2.0) I'd like to know why. 1 R:Okay, have you verified this with repair ma'am? 2 The turns following the reasons-for-call parallel Whalen & Zimmerman's (1987) notion of an 'interrogative series' in which the servicer directs a sequence of question and answer pairs to determine, in their data, the caller's location. In

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Extracts 1-3, the representative is locating facts relevant to the billing trouble using the same mechanisms. This further demonstrates the helping posture taken by representatives in the encounter. Coordination Problems Caller and answerer align their respective identities during the opening sequence of the conversation (Whalen & Zimmerman, 1987). However, relevant work has focused heavily on the opening sequence, and has therefore not traced processes of nonalignment that, the present data show, may develop during the execution of the service in the body of the conversation. In these calls about customer billing troubles, the customer is not (at least as evidenced in these data) an acculturated member of the telephone company service community, yet the customer and the representative must coordinate in order to address adequately the customer's reason-for-call. We could reasonably expect that the 'cultural' differences between these participants would result in coordination problems during the interaction. This distinction between institution-acculturated members and institutionunacculturated members is an important one since it helps explain strategic choices participants appear to make in the present data. As will be seen below, while both participants are working collaboratively to accomplish a task, a problem of coordination does emerge often. Extract Six (The customer and representative are going over the bill to determine which calls are not recognised by the customer). R:Okay, the call from Riverside you do not recognise? 1 C:I do not recognise it. But for seventy-seven minutes? 2 R:Mm-hmm 3 C:I'd have to be very friendly with the person. Wouldn't I? 4 Wouldn't you think so? In the above extract, the customer appears to talk about a topic which lies outside the domain of information needed in order for the representative to understand what the problem is, and what remedy is called for Goffman's (1967) concern with how identity management affects interactional outcomes bears attention here. Using Goffman's terminology, the service institution, or the person(s) representing the institution, defines the situation by presenting the company line to which the customer must align his/her action. The customer's response to the representative request for information includes in turn 2 the task-oriented reply, 'I do not recognise it', followed in turns 2 and 4 by an elaboration of the circumstances under which a 77 minute call might in fact be made. This customer account functions to ground the claim of not recognising the call with what may be considered evidentiary reasoning. The act of giving accounts by customers as excuses or justifications of their troubles can be viewed as part of a goal-attainment strategy to better their position by validating their right to receive the requested service. Customers are thus appealing to representatives as people empowered to judge the validity or 'worth' of

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their appeals. The argument that the accounts are used to obtain the customers' task-goals is supported partly by the sequential placement of the accounts (adjacent to customers' articulated task-goals) and partly by the fact that the customers accept the representatives' formulations of the accounts/requests (see extracts below). On the institutional side, the company representative presents a wholly task-oriented posture, most typically a uniform bureaucratic presentation which rigidly sets the tone for the interactional protocol. The customer's side is more complicated. Customers seem to offer what they believe to be relevant information with the assumption that someone is responsible for the trouble about which they are calling, and that it is the customer who must prove innocence, or who must develop a case for justification. The talk is a cooperative enterprise in that both participants structure the conversation such that identities can be constructed and maintained. Since the burden of proof is presumed to be on the customer, however, it may be the anticipation of an acceptable report of the trouble that controls the customer's conduct (Mills, 1940). More specifically, it may be that the customer believes accounting is required in order to obtain the desired service. The most frequent types of calls are those in which the customers call seeking the resolution of some rather specific trouble. For instance, the customers' phone has been disconnected, or their payment will be late, and they want to prevent a possible disconnection, or they have been billed for calls for which they want credit, or they need an extension of payment as is the case in the following extract. Extract Seven C:I've got a bill of a hundred and seventy one dollars and some change, 1 and my oldest has to go into the hospital (.) and I won't have the money until the ninth and I will be in on the ninth to pay the whole thing. (untimed gap) R:This will be until March the ninth? 2 C:Yes. 3 R:Okay, and this will be for the full amount of one hundred seventy one 4 dollars and forty one cents? C:Yes, that's correct. 5 R:Okay, that would be fine. I'll go and make the arrangements for you to 6 make that payment on March the ninth. The customer provides an account in turn 1 which includes a description of the personal circumstances surrounding her reasonfor call. The representative, however, does not orient to these personal circumstances, but to the company task-goal issues of date and amount of payment in turns 2 and 4. While the customers may have good reasons to give accounts, either for facework or to bolster their case or both, we can speculate that because the representatives uptake without reference to the account that the company may have decided to honour requests for adjustments in billing, at least when denial of a charge is made. This argument is supported by cases where no account is given during a customer's request, and the representative provides the service, as illustrated in the following two extracts.

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Extract Eight C:I wanted to inquire about two telephone calls on my statement. 1 (Garbled) that we are not familiar with. R:Okay, let me find the call. (.) Okay, the calls placed on the 28th and 2 the 29th? C:Yes. 3 R:Okay, let me go ahead and send you the listing. 4 Extract Nine C:We got a few phone calls we never made. 1 R:Okay, what are the dates of the calls? 2 (Sequence of information exchange on dates) R:Okay, hold on for just a moment. I'll go ahead and give your credit 28 and let you know what you need to deduct. Two main themes seem to emerge in the talk in relation to which both the customer and the representative then interpret each other's utterances. One theme revolves around the notion that the cause of the trouble is either the customer her/ himself, or someone or thing for which the customer is responsible. The other theme is that the customer wants to take appropriate action to prevent a trouble for which s/he is responsible (for example, pay the bill on time to prevent disconnection), s/he is unable to do so presently, and is seeking an 'arrangement' with the company. In their discussion of account-giving behaviour, Scott & Lyman (1968) make a distinction between justification accounts and excuse accounts which echoes these two themes. Accounts are linguistic devices which are used to explain 'untoward' behaviour. The following descriptions correspond to the two themes of trouble found in the data: Justifications are accounts in which one accepts responsibility for the act in question, but denies the pejorative quality associated with it . . . Excuses are accounts in which one admits that the act in question is bade, wrong, or inappropriate but denies full responsibility. (Scott & Lyman 1968; 47) Furthermore, Scott & Lyman suggest that when accounts occur between people in their specific social roles, the accounting is governed by a normative structure which determines 'whether and in what manner accounts may be required and given, honored or discredited' (p. 58). However, in the present conversations, customer and representative seem to be operating under different normative expectations. In the exchange below, for example, the representative asks the customer if he recognises a call on his bill in turn 1. The customer responds to the query, not with a direct answer, but with an account. Extract Ten R:You don't know who that call belongs to? 1 C:What do you mean, I don't know who that call belongs to? I've got a 2 bunch of things here I don't know who it belongs to. I think there's some problem somewhere with your computer, or (.) with my line. Here, the custsomer seems to be trying to enhance his request for compensation by pleading ignorance, not only about the call in question, but about additional

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troubles involved with this case, and he shifts the 'blame' of the trouble to factors beyond his responsibility. Formulations Used to Accomplish Goal Coordination In spite of these apparent coordination difficulties the task of providing the customer with appropriate service is accomplished through these conversations. The data suggest that the representative guides the customer's talk by recasting the customer's description of a problem into a company formulation. Company task-goal formulations are used by the representative to 'repair' the apparent lack of coordination between company task-goals and customer accountings which fall outside the company's seemingly inflexible protocol. That is, they function to ensure or facilitate the completion of company task-goals from the company's perspective. As noted earlier, formulations have been described by Heritage & Watson (1979) as transformations or paraphrases of prior utterances which preserve their relevant features while at the same time recast them. Formulations of the type discussed in their article are used for the 'practical management of sense': that is, in essence they demonstrate comprehension of talk. They can accomplish this by producing the 'gist' of the talk, or by producing the 'upshot' of the talk thus far. Furthermore, Heritage & Watson propose that formulations are linked structurally to confirmations or disconfirmations, making the formulation the first part of an adjacency pair and the confirmation or disconfirmation the second part. The formulation used by the representative in the present data seem to function in several ways. First, they do, as Heritage & Watson describe, demonstrate that the representative has understood the customer in correspondence with defined stages in the company's procedure for accomplishing the task. That this direction is generally approved of (and presumably seen as a move towards task-goal fulfillment) by customers is evidenced by their frequent acceptance of the representative's formulation. Extract Eleven C:Oh, okay. There's another one that's in Riverside also, it's five five 1 five, one six five seven. R:Sorry. Five five five, one six five seven? 2 C:Uh-huh. And then (.) oh, let me see. And then there's a Huntington 3 Beach number of five five five seven one one six. R:Okay 4 C:And a Santa Anna number of five five five oh four three three. 5 R:So all these numbers are unrecognisable then? F6 C:Right 7 R:Okay 8 C:Okay, and I was wondering if you could tell me (.) there's a ten sixty 9 nine surcharge? At turn 6, the representative summarises the customer's utterances thus far, by reducing them into a single formulation which is then confirmed by the customer

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in turn 7. The formulation allows the representative to demonstrate to the customer that she understands what the customer has said thus far. It also recasts the customer's language into a company formulation: customers may 'not know about calls' on their bill, but to the company, the customer has 'unrecognised calls'. Furthermore, sequentially, when the formulation is confirmed by the customer at turn 7 and acknowledged by the representative in turn 8, the customer is free to introduce a new problem at turn 9. In the next extract, while we see the sequence of the customer offering an account, and the representative responding with the desired action step, the customer nevertheless continues to discuss the personal circumstances surrounding her reason-for-call. Extract Twelve (The representative has just asked the customer if she had accepted the charges for a call the customer is questioning). C:Well, you know what, I didn't. Somebody played a joke. 1 Somebody called here and asked if they could speak (.) you know, if I would accept a call from John, and that's my husband's name. R:uh-huh 2 C:And I said yes because I thought my husband was in the hospital 3 and he was calling me. And then nobody came on the line. So I hung up and I called him back, and now somebody played a joke on me, because that was for an hour and fourteen minutes. R:Okay, what I can do is to have it investigated for you, and in the 4 meanwhile, let me deduct it, okay? C:Please. Yeah, that was for thirty two dollars and fifty seven cents. 5 R:Yeah. Okay 6 [ C:And I turned around and called my husband, he was in something 7 or other University Hospital, and I turned around and called over there, and they said that he hadn't tried to call me. R:Mm-hmmm 8 C:And all they said was would you accept a call from John, and I 9 said yes. R:Oh, so you thought the call was coming TO you. F 10 C:Well, I did. I thought it was coming from my husband. 11 R:Okay. Just a second. Let me figure out the taxes on it for you. 12 The customer provides an elaborate description of her troubles, letting the representative know that she was not only a victim of a person who tricked her into paying for a call she did not make, but that it occurred when her husband was in the hospital. The representative does not react to the customer's story with anything but a company task-goal response. If the customer's utterances were heard as pursuing relational goals, they might be interpreted as if the customer has called to elicit sympathy from the representative. However, the representative does not express sympathy or try to console the customer. In fact, the customer's persistence of account talk in turns 7, 9 and 11 seem to function merely as 'noise' in the system.

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Formulations as Goal Determiners In addition to recasting the customer's problem into company task-goal terms, formulations appear to be used by the representative as a device to determine which goal the customer has that corresponds to the company's. Analysis of the transcripts shows a pattern of representative-made formulations occurring after the customer has described a problem, and before the representative must take an action. Extract Thirteen C:Well, we have some calls that we don't know anything about and I 1 wanted to have this checked over. R:Okay, do you want listings that will tell you who they belong to then? F2 C:Uhmm, well, like these Colton calls? 3 R:uh-huh 4 C:I don't know, I don't know anything about those and the Marietta calls. 5 R:Okay, one moment please (.) Okay, Colton can also be Baker, Bloom6 ingtion, Cresmore, Death Valley or Highland. Do you recognise any of those cities? C:No I don't. 7 R:Okay, would you like credit for these calls then? F8 C:Yes please. 9 In this extract, the customer describes her problem, but it is not clear what she wants the representative to do since there are several services relevant to the customer's initial description. The representative makes a formulation in terms of a company task-goal at turn 2, but does not get a confirmation from the customer at turn 3. Instead, she gets an instantiation of the problem. Once it is determined (in turn 7) that the customer has informed the representative of all the unrecognised calls, it is up to the representative to take an action. She makes a company task-goal formulation at turn 8 which is confirmed by the customer at turn 9. The formulation in turns 2 and 7 are used by the representative to determine which of the possible company task-goals the customer will endorse, and therefore come to hold as a derived outcome. It is interesting to note that the representative makes goal-determining formulations in the form of a question. This lends support to the notion that the formulations are made at preliminary checks before the representative takes a task-related action. And, since answers typically follow questions, it is reasonable for the representative to expect either a confirmation or a disconfirmation of the formulation. Extract Fourteen R:Okay, how may I help you. 1 C:Well, I just received my bill, and there is a call on here (.) looks like 2 I made it from Cleveland, Ohio, and I did not, for thirty seven dollars and fifty cents.

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F 3R:Okay, that one was placed from San () from a payphone to Cleveland, Ohio, and charged to your number. You did not accept those charges? In turn 3, the representative corrects the customer's reading of the bill in turn 2. Notice that the utterance, 'You did not accept those charges?' is phrased in company terminology. Formulations as Embedded Corrections Finally, and perhaps most importantly in terms of redirecting the customer's account giving to the company task-goal, formulations appear to 'correct' (that is, from the company's perspective) the customer's seemingly relation-oriented description of the trouble by offering a (company-oriented) task-oriented recasting. The notion that formulations can be regarded thus follows Jefferson's (1987) work on embedded corrections. She describes a process whereby a correction is offered by a second speaker which serves to repair the organisation of the conversation. The sequence Jefferson finds is an (X, Y, Y) series in which a speaker makes an utterance (X), the next speaker offers a correction (Y), and the first speaker accepts the correction by using it in the following utterances (Y). Jefferson notes that this occurs as a 'by-the-way' phenomenon, and not as a separate or exposed correction which would draw attention to the correction and away form the ongoing talk. While Jefferson is concerned primarily with corrections of mispronounced or misused words in her data, the repair sequence she describes and the effect the repair has on the talk is exhibited in Extract 15 below, where representative-made formulations can be regarded as corrections. We can assume that the acceptance of the representative's formulation is evidence that the customer's goal is negotiated into being the complement of the representative's, a process that seems necessary as the company consistently maintains its 'insensitive' or 'nonadaptive' protocol. Extract Fifteen (The representative has just located the bill in question.) R:Well, I'm looking at your January twenty fifth bill. Is that the one? 1 C:Okay, yeah. Now before there used to be more calls of the same 2 thing, you know. And I called, you know, about a month ago and I explained to them and they told me 'Okay, we are going to send you the information on who's making that call from West Provina'. So they sent me the information and when I got it it said here they would give me until February eighteenth to let them know to find the people, you know, from that telephone, you know. So we don't know, you know. And that is why I am calling you right now, you know. They sent me the information with that telephone number, but uhm, you know, I just want to know what's going to happen, you know, cause the lady already deducted, you know, but how much from the bill. So I want to know if everything is okay with the bill now, you know.

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F R:She's already given you credit for the calls? 3 C:Yes, she already gave me credit. 4 R:As long as she's got the credit already, she just sent the listings on it 5 because you requested it. If you've got the credit on it already, then there is no problem. This extract nicely illustrates the (X, Y, Y) sequence where turn 2 is the customer's description (X), turn 3 is the representative's formulation/correction (Y), and turn 4 is the customer's acceptance of the formulation (Y). It is worth noting that in turn 3, the representative reduces the customer's articulation of the problem in turn 2, thus producing what is perceived as the upshot of what has been said/requested. Conclusion The present discourse analysis has been strongly suggestive of the means by which customer and service institutional parties achieve an alignment, and, very often, the fulfillment of complementary goals. Goals have been rendered complementary in one of the following circumstances: (A) Either the customers had face-work or relational goals when they called the company and they negotiated with the representative to focus on the task-goal, or (B) the customers did not have face-work or relational goals, but since their goal articulation did not coordinate with the company's protocol, they negotiated with the representative to focus on the task-goal within that protocol. In either case, if the customers were not willing to adapt to company's routine, we could expect resistance to the representatives' indifference in the formulations to the customers' account giving. But, this did not occur. Rather, the customers' acceptance of the representatives' formulations is evidence that the customers' either changed their goals, or had complementary goals to the representatives'. The important point here is that, in this context at least, ostensibly relational talk may have a use, a purpose, for accomplishing a task-goal. This is a departure from much work which treats relational and task-oriented talk as distinct activities. It has been the intention of this paper to develop an argument which suggests that while nominally task-oriented and relationoriented talk may co-occur, specifically in asymmetric task-oriented conversations, it does not necessarily reflect participants' holding independently salient task goals and relational goals. Thus the data analysis presented here lends empirical substantiation to the notion that apparently relation-oriented talk, such as accounts, may not necessarily function purely or even saliently as interpersonally-grounded strategies, and that formulations, as defined here, are an active means of shifting what might be construed as relational talk intermixed with task concernsinto an institutional frame. An important point to be made here is that if talk is categorised in terms of its features alone, then the account talk can be labelled as relational. The results of the present analysis, then, suggest that relational talk serves task-goals. But, this conclusion would be a misleading one, for it can be argued that there is a funda-

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mental problem in trying, a priori, to define patterns of talk. In his discussion of speech act assignment, Levinson (1981) persuasively argues that utterances are identified in terms of their consequences; what an utterance means is dependent upon the social activity within which it is spoken. The analysis presented in this paper suggests that the social activity of a service encounter which involves negotiation and coordination between lay-people and the service institution to resolve complementary task-goals, would be a rich source of data to analyse the relationship between discourse patterns and goal resolution. Finally, this paper has attempted to demonstrate that even in the most mundane exchangeslike the telehone service exchanges examined herethere is considerable difficulty involved in moving from the discourse forms to the goals of the interactants. On the basis of content alone, talk may be identifiable as 'relation-oriented', but it is dangerous to do so. Determining whether talk is relation-oriented, or for that matter task-oriented, depends on the way participants orient to the talk as it emerges in the interaction. Note 1. I would like to acknowledge Robert E. Sanders for his invaluable advice and support in the writing of this manuscript. References Atkinson, J. M. and Heritage, J. (1984) Structure of Social Interaction: Studies in Conversation Analysis. New York: Cambridge University Press. Bales, R. F. (1950) Interaction Process Analysis: A Method for the Study of Small Groups. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Blatz, C. V. (1972) Accountability and answerability. Journal for the Theory of Social Behavior 2, 101-20. Blumstein, P. W. (1974) The honoring of accounts. American Sociological Review 39 551-61. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. (1978) Universals in language usage: Politeness phenomena. In E. N. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness Strategies in Social Interaction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Buttny, R. (1985) Accounts are reconstruction of an event's context. Communication Monographs 52, 57-77. Fisher, B. A. (1970) Decision emergence: Phases in group decision making. Speech Monographs 37, 53-66. (1980) Small Group Decision Making: Communication and the Group Process. New York: McGraw-Hill. Goffman, E. (1967) Interaction Ritual. Chicago: Aldine Publishing Company. (1971) Relations in Public. New York: Harper and Row. Gouran, D. S., Brown, C. and Henry, D. R. (1978) Behavioral correlates of perceptions of quality in decision making discussions. Commuication Monographs 45, 51-63. Heritage, J. C. and Watson, D. R. (1979) Formulations as conversational objects. In G. Pathas (ed.) Everyday Language. New York: Irvington Press. Jefferson, G. (1987) On exposed and embedded correction in conversation. In G. Button and J. R. E. Lee (eds) Talk and Social Organisation. Clevedon, England: Multilingual Matters. Lamoureux, E. L. (1989) Rhetoric and communication in service encounters. Research on Language and Social Interaction 22, 93-114.

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Levinson, S. C. (1981) Some pre-observations on the modelling of dialogue. Discourse Processes 4, 93-116. Merritt, M. (1976) On questions following questions in service encounters. Language in Society 5, 315-57. Mills, C. W. (1940) Situated actions and vocabularies of motive. In J. G. Manis and B. M. Meltzer (eds) Symbolic Interaction. Boston, MA: Allyn and Bacon. O'Keefe, B. J. (1988) The logic of message design: Individual differences in reasoning about communication. Communication Monographs 55, 80-103. O'Keefe, B. J. and Shepherd, G. J. (1987) The pursuit of multiple objectives in face-to-face persuasive interaction: Effects of construct differentiation on message organization. Communication Monographs 54, 396-419. Poole, M. S. (1983) Decision development in small groups, III: A multiple sequence model of group decision development. Communication Monographs 50,321-41. Schegloff, E. A. (1986) The routine as achievement. Human Studies 9, 111-51. Scheidel, T. M. and Crowell, L. (1964) Idea development in small discussion groups. Quarterly Journal of Speech 50, 140-5. Scott, M. B. and Lyman, S. M. (1968) Accounts. American Sociological Review 33,46-62. Shields, N. M. (1979) Accounts and other interpersonal strategies in a credibility detracting context. Pacific Sociological Review 22, 255-72. Tuckman, R. (1965) Development sequence in small groups. Psychological Bulletin 63, 384-99. Tedeshi, J. J. and Reiss, M. (1981) Verbal strategies in impression management. In C. Antaki (ed.) The Psychology of Ordinary Explanations of Social Behavior. New York: Academic Press. Ventola, E. (1987) The Structure of Social Interaction: A Systematic Approach to the Semiotics of Service Encounters. London: Frances Pinter. Whalen, M. R. and Zimmerman, D. H. (1987) Sequential and institutional contexts in calls for help. Social Psychology Quarterly 50, 172-85.

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Cognitive and Tactical Dimensions of Conversational Goal Management Vincent R. Waldron Department of Communication, University of Kentucky, Lexington, Kentucky 40506, USA Donald J. Cegala Department of Communication, The Ohio State University, 154 North Oval Mall, Columbus, Ohio 43210, USA William F. Sharkey University of Hawaii at Manoa, Department of Speech, 2560 Campus Road, George Hall 326, Honolulu, Hawaii 96822 USA and Bruno Teboul Department of Communication, The Ohio State University, 154 North Oval Mall, Columbus, Ohio 43210, USA Abstract Rationalist depictions of conversational behaviour assume that communicators engage in a good deal of goaldirected thinking and that such thinking guides message production. The current study used a cued-recall method (Cegala et al., 1988) to investigate the composition of conversational cognition and to investigate the relationship between cognitions and tactics. Results indicated that goal-oriented cognition was prominent but that non-strategic thoughts were more frequent. In addition, results indicated that individuals using tactics of low, moderate, and high levels of goal management sophistication had qualitatively different conversational cognitions. Finally, partner tactics appeared to influence the composition of conversational cognition. Much recent research relevant to interpersonal communication competence has examined the goal-oriented activities of conversational participants. From this perspective, competent communication has been directly and indirectly associated with the 'management' of multiple, complex, and sometimes competing conversational objectives (O'Keefe, 1988; O'Keefe & Delia, 1982; Tracy & Moran, 1983). This view is consistent with earlier descriptions of competent communication as both instrumentally effective and socially appropriate (Wiemann, 1977; for a review, see Spitzberg & Cupach, 1984). Goal management involves the close coupling of thinking (e.g. assessment of goal priorities) and communication behaviour (e.g. multifunctional messages, tactics) to meet multiple goals (e.g. O'Keefe & Delia, 1982; O'Keefe & McCornack, 1987; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987; Tracy & Moran, 1983). However, this connection between thinking and message performance is merely assumed or only

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indirectly examined in most of the current research. This exploratory study is concerned with two issues relevant to the link between the cognitions (including strategies for achieving goals) and tactics (behavioural attempts to achieve goals) used by conversants participating in a multi-goal interaction (goals are defined here as desired conversational outcomes). First, the extent to which the cognitive activities of conversational participants appears to reflect goal-oriented thinking is documented. Second, the extent to which cognitions vary in relation to the goal management sophistication of the tactics used (by self and by the partner) is assessed. Cognitive and Behavioural Dimensions of Goal Management Several studies have addressed the importance of cognition in conversational goal management. One set of studies has emphasised the assessment of goals 'dictated by the situation' (Craig, 1986). This work suggests that communicators must order, or prioritise, the goals they perceive in a given context (Tracy, 1984; Tracy & Moran, 1983). For example, Tracy (1984) found that the directness and competency of subjects' topic extensions varied as a function of goal priority. Tracy's results suggest that the nature of goal assessments (cognitions) preceding the crafting of messages must be understood before a model of conversational competence can be developed. Cognitive goal assessment also appears to be an important theme in more recent studies. O'Keefe & Shepherd (1987), in providing support for a rational, goal-based view of conversational behaviour, found that successful goal management strategy was associated with communicators' levels of construct differentiation. This result indicates that some communicators are capable of generating more sophisticated cognitive assessments of the multiple goals operating in conversation. In the O'Keefe & Shepherd study (1987), this more sophisticated assessment apparently took into account not just instrumental goals (e.g. persuade the partner) but also subsidiary goals related to face protection and conversational maintenance. The behaviour side of the cognition-behaviour link has been investigated by documenting the effects of messages serving single or multiple goals. In reviewing a number of message classification systems, O'Keefe & Delia (1982) indicate that, across classification systems, the extent to which multiple goals are served by messages or message strategies is a key factor distinguishing message types. Several authors have commented on message strategies designed to acquire information while also meeting goals related to politeness (e.g. Brown & Levison, 1978; Craig, Tracy & Spisak, 1986). More recently, O'Keefe (1988) has commented on three different types of message 'goal structures.' Minimally structured messages are designed to obtain no clear goal; they are, in effect, goalless. Unifunctional messages involve the pursuit of a single, clearly perceived goal. Multifunctional messages are those that serve multiple goals simultaneously. Several recent studies have evaluated the effects of messages with different goal structures. Bingham & Burleson (1988) found that multi-functional and unifunctional responses to sexual harassment yielded higher competence ratings (by

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subjects evaluating the message) than did minimally structure messages. Multifunctional messages also resulted in higher likability ratings for the message sender. O'Keefe & McCornack (1987), in their study of regulative messages (regulating an unproductive work group member), found that goal structure influenced subjects' perceptions (including perceptions of competence) of the message sender. It is worth noting that in both these studies the effects of message structure were mediated by cognitive complexity. Receivers high in complexity were most likely to respond favourably to the messages serving multiple goals. Thus, the research suggests that messages serving multiple goals are generally more competent than those serving single goals. However, this generalisation is qualified by preliminary evidence indicating that the message-related cognitions of the receiver mediate the effects of multi-functional messages. Even this brief review reveals that the existing literature has contributed to an improved understanding of the role of goals in conversation. However, the research questions posed and the methods used in these studies have yet to address fully some of the fundamental issues that must be examined in a theory of discourse goals (Craig, 1986). One of these involves the nature of the conversational cognitions presumed to direct goal management. More specifically, the degree to which cognition during actual conversations is truly goal-directed and strategic is at issue. A second issue pertains to the relatively unstudied link between cognitions and goal-serving tactics. How (if at all) do thoughts account for variation in the goal management tactics used during interaction? The Nature of Conversational Cognitions One nagging question in the goal management literature involves the extent to which conversational participants actually engage in goal-directed thinking during conversation. Most recent work on goal management embraces what Craig (1986) has labelled a 'strategic' interpretation of goal-directed behaviour. From this view, conversationalists engage in the mindful pursuit of objectives rather than simply follow rules and standard patterns. While this approach presumes that communicators are engaged in a good deal of mindful, goal-directed activity, the assumption of such activity is difficult to confirm. Craig's (1986) review of the methods used in goal management studies implies that researchers' inferences about the goaldirectedness of conversational thought are tenuous. Inferences about the strategic nature of conversational thinking are largely based on evidence that is so indirect that the role of goals in conversational thinking is understood in only general terms. For example, subjects' different behavioural responses to experimental manipulations of goal priority (e.g. Tracy, 1984) or use of word repetition (Ochs, 1979) may provide some evidence for the existence of such cognitive activities as goal prioritisation, planning, and other apparently goal-directed thought processes. However, these measures do not address the relative importance of goal-directed thought or the extent to which such thought is supplemented by other kinds of cognitions. It may be that goaldirected cognitions are relatively infrequent or unimportant when compared to other types of cognitions (e.g. preoccupations, thoughts about nervousness or

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other self states, impressions, topic elaborations). When these other cognitive activities require substantial amounts of cognitive resources, goal-directed cognitions may be less prominent in conversants' on-line thinking. Assessing the relative contribution of goal-oriented and other types of thought to conversational performance requires, first of all, a definition of goal-oriented thought. A problem with goals research is that almost any thought can be construed as goaloriented to some degree. Craig (1986; see also this volume) has commented on the profusion of goal definitions operating in the literature. However, intuitively one senses that some cognitive activities are more goal-oriented than others. For example, a conversational participant's speculations on how to change the topic to obtain desired information from a partner appears to be goal-oriented. Thoughts concerning one's feeling of nervousness, the attractiveness of a partner, or the nature of the topic appear to be less so. Thus one of the objectives was to study in a process-like manner the goal structure of naturally occurring conversational thoughts. The investigation of this issue requires a method designed to reconstruct the thoughts participants have during conversation without disrupting conversation. A second requirement is the development of a coding system that distinguishes between thoughts that are goal-directed and those that are not. Cegala and associates (1988) have experimented with a cued-recall method that aids conversational participants in reconstructing the thoughts and effective responses they experienced during a conversation. Adapted from the thought-listing procedure used by social psychologists (Ickes, Robertson, Tooke & Teng, 1986) to study naturally occurring social cognition, the method requires participants to view videotapes of their conversation and to list the thoughts and feelings they recall having had during the conversation. The method incorporates many of the verbal reporting mechanisms (e.g. recall of concrete instances, realistic cues, short time delay between the activity and subsequent recall) thought to increase the accuracy of cognitive reconstructions (see Ericcson & Simon, 1984). Cegala and associates (1988) used the method to study relatively goalless small-talk exchanges. They developed an extensive coding system for describing thoughts and feelings listed by participants. The thought-listing typology suggested that even in small-talk exchanges, conversational participants engaged in a wide variety of cognitive activities. Although the system was not developed to reflect the extent to which the thoughts were goal-oriented, a substantial number of thoughts (52%) were conversation-focused (pertaining to conversational initiation, regulation, maintenance, etc.). The authors suggested that many of these appeared to be goal-directed. Even so, many of the thoughts were assessments of self-states, partner impressions, speculations about the topic, and other cognitions not obviously goal-oriented. The validity of the Cegala et al. cued-recall procedure was substantiated by findings indicating that thought composition varied in predictable ways as a function of dyad type (friends, strangers) and interaction involvementone measure of communication competence (Cegala, 1981, 1984). Additional assessment of the validity of the procedure as a reflection of on-line processing is reported in a manuscript by Cegala, Teboul & Waldron (1989).

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Research Questions Because of obvious methodological difficulties, few researchers have attempted to measure on-line cognitive processing during conversations. Thus, there remains a basic need in the literature for description of the composition of conversational thought. A primary objective of this study was to develop, from data gathered using the Cegala et al. (1988) method, a category system that described conversational thinking in a face-threatening, information acquisition situation. Accordingly, our first research question asked: RQ1: What is the composition of cognition during information acquisition interactions? Conversational participants were asked to obtain 'sensitive' (face-threatening) information from their partners. Recent studies of goal management have been limited to mostly persuasive (O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987) or regulative (O'Keefe, 1988) exchanges. By using the instrumental goal of information acquisition, generalisability of this literature is expanded. More important, the information acquisition task was selected because it appears to require simultaneously attaining a task goal, while also avoiding embarrassment to self and other. Avoiding embarrassment is pertinent to what Goffman (1969) and Brown & Levinson (1978) have discussed under the heading of 'face wants' and what Clark & Delia (1979) have labelled identity management goals. The work of these authors and the observations of Craig (1986) suggest that avoiding threats to a partner's face may be part of the generally accepted, conventionalised expectations that accompany certain face-threatening communication situations. Thus, when given a facethreatening instrumental goal, conversants' cognitions should reflect concern with both obtaining the information and avoiding embarrassment. It is not clear from the literature how cognitively aware communicators are of these subsidiary goals. It may be that, because of practice and convention, efforts to avoid embarrassing the partner are performed automatically or 'mindlessly' (Langer, 1978) when a face-threatening instrumental goal is encountered. If the avoidance of embarrassment is conventionalised and mindless, then minimal cognitive effort should be expended on the avoidance of embarrassment and only a small proportion of conversational thoughts should be directed toward the objective of avoiding embarrassment. To investigate this possibility, half of the subjects in this sample were given the explicit instruction to 'not embarrass your partner' in addition to instructions to obtain the required information. Research Question 2 addressed this manipulation. RQ2: How (if at all) does the composition of conversational cognition vary under directions to achieve one goal (i.e. obtain sensitive information) versus directions to obtain two goals (i.e. obtain the information; avoid embarrassing your partner)? Although considerable attention has been paid to the nature of messages and tactics that serve multiple goals (Bingham & Burleson, 1988; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987) and to the nature of the goals themselves (e.g. Clark & Delia,

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1979), the relationship between goal-related cognitions and the tactics used by communicators is relatively unexplored. While not referring explicitly to the goal management literature, Berger (1988), in his explanation of communicative plans, lamented the lack of research attention given to how cognition is translated into communicative action. Despite considerable work concerning cognitive structures and processes, the cognition-behaviour link is rarely made explicit. In the goal management literature, O'Keefe (1988) has pointed to the need for a mechanism that links conversational goals and message behaviour. She proposes that a communicator's implicit theory of communication, or 'message design logic' influences how he/she reasons from goals to messages. In explicating the differences between expressive, conventional, and rhetorical message design logics, O'Keefe (1988) suggests that individuals facing communication situations with similar goal structures may proceed differently because they have different views on how communication should function. One would expect these different logics to be reflected in the conversational cognitions of communicators. Interestingly, O'Keefe assesses message design logic by studying the attributes of messages for clues about the design logic used by the sender. An alternative method for determining how communicators construe the communicative situation would be to look more directly at the sender's self-reported cognitions (as described previously). Then the relationship between these cognitions and conversational tactics can be assessed. In the current study it is suggested that, if communication is as strategic as rational approaches to conversation assume (e.g. O'Keefe, 1988), the composition of a communicator's cognitions should vary in relation to the types of goal management tactics used. Information acquisition tactics are construed as varying along a continuum of 'directness'. This continuum is grounded in Brown & Levinson's (1978) discussion of options for performing face-threatening actions. They contend that one option is to perform such actions 'baldly' or 'on record' (in this case, with a direct request for the sensitive information). Another option is to obtain the information 'with redress'that is, using a request, but also attending to face wants with justifications, hedges, apologies, etc. Finally, indirect 'off record' approaches manipulate the context of the interaction through the performance of actions that make the exchange of information seem natural and unthreatening. In goal management terms, direct approaches serve the single instrumental goal while subordinating relational or identity management goals. Indirect approaches devote considerable attention to identity management and relational goals as well as instrumental goals. Approaches using 'redress' fall in the middle, serving mostly the instrumental goal but at least acknowledging relational or identity management concerns. Thus, this indirectness continuum may also reflect degrees of goal management sophistication. While the exploratory nature of the thought coding system precluded the development of specific hypothesis in this study, the relationship between conversational cognitions and tactics can be discussed in general terms. It is reasonable to suggest, for instance, that communicators using indirect approaches (because they are attempting to attain several goals simultaneously) should engage in more

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strategic (goal-directed) thought than individuals using direct approaches. In addition, indirect approaches might be associated with more other-oriented thoughts as assessment of the partner is a requirement if one is to avoid embarrassing him/her. These expectations are only indirectly supported in the literature. The Cegala et al. (1988) study found that communicators who were high in interaction involvement had more thoughts of both varieties. Given that interaction involvement has been associated with communication competence, and that tactics serving multiple goals are also considered more competent (e.g. O'Keefe, 1988; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987), a relationship between the indirect tactics and both partner-oriented and goaloriented thinking might be expected. Conversely, it also might be expected that individuals whose cognitions are mostly self-oriented (concerned with self-states like nervousness, boredom, uncertainty) might be less attentive to instrumental goals and more likely to use tactics that serve only the instrumental goal. Given these views about cognition (with multiple goals in particular) and communication performance, our third research question asked: RQ3: How (if at all) does the composition of conversational cognition vary in relation to an individual's goal management tactics? Finally, a discussion of how conversational tactics and behaviour are linked must take into account the process nature of conversational goal management. O'Keefe & Shepherd (1987) found that goal management strategies changed as the conversation unfolded and as communicators shifted roles (initiator, responder). Thus, it appears unrealistic to suggest that conversational cognition is a strictly individual-level concern. Communicators apparently do not select and execute predetermined 'plans' designed to achieve goals. Craig (1986) has noted that goal management models borrowed from cognitive science have been criticised for taking this overly mechanistic, computationally-based view of communication. Rather, cognitive and behavioural adjustment is required as goals are accomplished, changed, or thwarted during ongoing interaction (Berger, 1988). In an attempt to assess the extent to which self-cognitions are dependent on partner behaviour, the influence of partner tactics on the nature of conversational cognitions was also explored in the current study. In particular we asked: RQ4: How (if at all) does the composition of conversational cognition vary in response to the partner's goal management tactics? Method Subjects Participants for this study were recruited from an introductory communication theory course at a large Midwest (USA) university. The course enrolls approximately 600 students per quarter. The course draws students from a variety of majors, backgrounds, and interests. Participants were awarded extra credit for

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their participation. A total of 64 students (32 dyads) participated in the study. The sample included 30 males and 34 females. Average age was 20.2 years. Design and procedures Conversational task At a prearranged time, dyad members reported to separate rooms to receive instructions. All subjects were asked to obtain three pieces of sensitive information from their partners. One member of each dyad was instructed to obtain information about politics while the other member was instructed to obtain information about religion. These topics were selected based on the results of an open-ended survey asking undergraduates (participating in a course taught in the same department) to list topics that would be embarrassing to discuss with a stranger in a laboratory setting. Religion and politics were topics considered sensitive by about equal number of respondents (i.e. about 40%). These topics ranked second and third behind the topic of sex (which was considered too sensitive for the study). Both politics and religion were ranked substantially higher than the other topics mentioned (e.g. drug use, family background/income, abortion). Participants given the politics topic were asked to discover (1) the political preference of their partner, (2) one reason for why the partner had that preference, and (3) how often the partner voted. Participants given the religious topic were instructed to discover (1) the religious preference of the partner (2) one reason for why the partner had that preference, and (3) how often he/she attended church. To execute the previously mentioned goal manipulation, one half of the dyads also received the instructions to not embarrass their partner. Participants were told that their interactions would be videotaped. After instructions were completed, participants were asked to repeat the instructions to ensure that they fully understood their conversational objectives. Students were then brought to a carpeted room that resembled a living room. They were seated in swivel chairs separated by a small coffee table. Unobtrusive microphones were located on the table. Once seated, participants were told they could begin their conversation. Two videotapes of the conversations were made. The conversations were interrupted after six minutes. Subsequent to the conversation, participants were again separated and asked to complete a survey measuring their perceptions of the partner's communication competence. Participants also completed the Interaction Involvement Scale (Cegela, 1981, 1984). Responses to these instruments are not considered in the current study. Cued-recall procedure Separately, participants were instructed to watch their copy of the videotaped conversation. Generally the method used was similar to that reported by Cegala et al. (1988). However, the method was manipulated in the current study to determine whether variations in instructions would substantially alter the thoughts and feelings recorded by subjects. Thus, this manipulation was considered to be of methodological but not theoretical importance. Half the participants were

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instructed to stop the videotape whenever they remembered a thought or feeling. They were instructed to record the time showing on the video monitor and to describe the thought or feeling on the forms provided by the experimenter. This was the 'free' response condition. For the other half, the experimenters stopped the tape every 30 seconds. In this 'interval' response condition participants were asked to list thoughts and feelings they remembered having during the preceding 30 seconds. Participants in this condition were given the option of responding 'none' if they could not recall a thought or feeling that occurred during the interval. Method evaluation After completing the cued-recall procedure participants completed a brief instrument containing semantic differential items measuring their perceptions of the conversational task, the conversational topic, and the cued-recall procedure. Coding procedures Coding of thought listings Thoughts listed by the participants were divided into thought units (essentially independent clauses) by the first author. Thought units that were merely continuations of the previous units or that were redundant with a unit already coded within the same thought listing were not coded. Thus, it was possible that a single thought listing was comprised of multiple, separately coded thought units, but in most instances a listing contained only one unique thought unit. The category system used in the current study was loosely adapted from that developed by Cegala et al. (1988). However, the category system used in the current study was explicitly designed to identify thought listings that appeared to have a goaloriented structure. The current category system was developed by one of the authors familiar with the Cegala et al. system. To identify thought categories unique to the current study, approximately 10% of the thought listings were reviewed. Once the new category system was established, the author and an assistant unfamiliar with the specifics of the study independently coded approximately 40 percent of the thought listings. Inter-rater reliability was determined to be above 80% using Scott's (1955) Pi. The remainder of the thought listings were coded only by the first author. The thought unit category system distinguishes between thoughts that are goal-oriented, thoughts that are assessment-oriented, and thoughts that are topic-oriented. Thoughts were considered goal-oriented only if they fit an Act-Action-Goal structure (i.e. I did action X to attain goal Y). Goal-oriented units were further divided into 'instrumental' (pertaining to the information acquisition task); 'relational' (insuring the partners 'got along', maintaining the conversation, trying to get to know the other person better); 'identity management self' (avoiding embarrassment, presenting an acceptable image); and 'identity management other' units (avoiding embarrassment of the partner, assisting the partner in presenting an acceptable image). Assessmentoriented units were divided into self assessments (e.g. reports of nervousness, uncertainty, calmness), and partner

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assessments (impressions and evaluations of partner characteristics, states, responses, or actions). Topic-oriented thought units consisted of responses to, or elaborations on, the topic of discussion. In addition, thoughts that didn't fit one of these broad categories or simply described the conversation from an observer perspective (e.g. 'I am scratching my nose now') were labelled unclassified. Because the unclassified thoughts constituted less than 3% of the total, they were eliminated from subsequent analyses. Double coding of thoughts was allowed but less than 1% of the thoughts were double-coded. Tactics were coded by two of the authors with reference to the 'indirectness' continuum discussed earlier (see Table 1). The tactic coding system was similar to that used by Cegala (1981) to study interaction involvement and information acquisition tactics. The coders initially reviewed six of the 64 videotapes to facilitate evaluation and refinement of the category system. The two coders then independently coded the remaining tapes (Scott's Pi = 0.80). Tactic codes were associated with a weighting system. Points were awarded on the basis of tactic directness, with the most direct tactics receiving 1 point and indirect tactics receiving 7 points. Tactics between these extremes received from 2-6 Table 1 Description of tactic/strategy types Tactic

Definition

1

Direct approach with no justification or self-disclosure (e.g. 'So, what's your religion?' 'Did you vote in the election?' 'What's your political affiliation?').

2

Direct approach with a justification for asking the question (e.g. 'I don't mean to embarrass you . . .' 'The researchers asked me to ask you . . .').

3

Direct approach with a self-disclosure either preceding or following the direct question (e.g. 'I'm Catholic, are you?' 'I voted in the last election, did you?' 'Do you vote on a regular basis? I don't.').

4

Direct approach in introducing the topic, but not in pursuit of one of the specific required pieces of information (e.g. 'What did you think about the election?' 'Did you see the news last night when they were rehashing the Jim Bakker incident?').

5

Indirect approach to introduce the gist of the topic and then using a direct approach (e.g. 'How old are you . . . oh did you vote?' or 'I'm from a small town that's predominately Catholic . . . I'm Catholic, how about you?').

6

Indirect approach (e.g. using alternate topics to gain access to focal topic). This approach is very elaborate in that subjects may talk about attending school, then their major, and then focus on a particular political science or religious course they've taken to get to the specific topic area.

7

Self-disclosure with no direct question (here a person never uses a direct approach; instead the person self-discloses about the topic in a possible attempt to have the other self-disclose as well).

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points. Some participants chose not to pursue either the second or third piece of information. An analysis of the thoughts listing of these individuals revealed that they appeared to be concerned with embarrassing or 'pushing' their partners and thus chose to avoid overt attempts to gain the information. In such cases, seven points were awarded to reflect the extreme indirectness of the approach taken by these individuals. Four individuals made no attempt to obtain any piece of information. These individuals were eliminated from the analysis because it appeared they may have been confused about the conversational task. Each subject was coded three timesone code for each of the three pieces of information required. Coders viewed the videotapes and made their judgements of tactics whenever they observed what appeared to be an attempt to obtain the information. Coders agreed on 99% of coding instances. The points awarded for each of the three attempts to obtain information were summed to obtain a total tactics score reflective of the individual's behaviour over time. Total tactic scores ranged from 3 (three direct attempts) to 21 (three highly indirect attempts), with a mean of 9.25. A separate point system was used to described each subject's success in obtaining the three pieces of information. Acquisition of the information resulted in an award of 2 points. Failure to acquire the information resulted in the awarding of 1 point. Thus a maximum of 6 and a minimum of 3 points were possible. Results Data analysis To address the first research question, which pertained to the composition of conversational cognition, the frequencies associated with the various thought unit categories were totalled. The proportion of the thought unit total accounted for by each category was also calculated. These numbers appear in Table 2. The total number of thought units was 895, with a per subject average of 14.5. As the table Table 2 Thought unit category frequencies and proportions Category Goal-Oriented Units

Frequency 345

38.3 181

Instrumental

20.2

40

Relational

4.4

68

Identity Mgmt. Self

7.5

56

Identity Mgmt. Other Assessment-Oriented Units

% of Total

460

Self-Directed Partner-Directed Topic-Oriented Units

6.2 51.3

255

28.4

205

22.9 10.0

90

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indicates, goal-oriented thought units accounted for slightly more than 38% of the total. Instrumental goal-oriented units accounted for the majority of these. Assessment-oriented units combined to account for more than 51% of the total. Contentoriented thoughts accounted for only 10% of the total. The second research question asked to what extent the composition of conversational cognition varied according to goal instructions (acquire the information only versus acquire the information and avoid embarrassing the partner). To evaluate the research question, a 2 x 2 MANOVA (goal instruction) by response mode (free or interval) was computed using the thoughtlisting categories as dependent variables. The results of this procedure revealed no main effects or interactions. 1 Research Question three concerned the relationship between tactics and cognitive composition. Accordingly, the next set of analyses incorporated the tactic scores (see Table 3 for tactic frequencies and weightings). To assess the relationship between tactic directness/indirectness and conversational cognitions, the sample was divided into direct, moderately direct, and indirect groups based on the total tactics score. Those individuals with tactics scores falling within one half standard deviation of the mean were considered the moderately direct group (N = 22). Those further from the mean constituted the direct (N = 22) and indirect (N = 16) groups. Table 3 Total frequencies and percentages and weights of tactics utilised Time 1

Time 2

Time 3

Tactic/Weighta Frequency % Frequency % Frequency % 1b 19 29.7 35 54.7 32 50.0 12.5 1 1.6 2 8 1 1.6 3 0.0 3 4.7 0 3 4.7 4 11 17.2 11 17.2 2 3.1 5 11 17.2 3 4.7 1 1.6 6 14.1 3 4.7 9 1 1.6 3.1 12 18.8 20 31.3 7 2 aRefer to Table 1 for full descriptions of tactics. bTactic 1: Direct approach. Tactic 2: Direct approach with justification. Tactic 3: Direct approach with self-disclosure. Tactic 4: Direct approach with introduction of topic. Tactic 5: Indirect approach followed by direct question. Tactic 6: Indirect approach using alternate topics. Tactic 7: Indirect approach using self-disclosure with no direct question. A MANOVA was performed using tactic group as the independent variable and the thought category frequencies as dependent variables.2 A second MANOVA used category proportions as the dependent variables. Results are reported in Table 4.

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Page 113 Table 4 Thought units as a function of self tactic directness Self Tactic Directness Thought Units Goal Oriented Instrumental Appropriateness Assessment-Oriented Self-assessments Partner-assessments Topic Oriented

Direct

2.4 a1 (16.1%) 2.2 (14.1%) 5.7 ab (43.6%) 2.1 a (14.7%) 1.0 (07.0%)

Moderate

Indirect

2.5 b (20.9%)

4.7 ab (27.9%)

2.0 (14.1%)

3.1 (17.4%)

3.1 a (20.0%) 4.0 ab (33.1%) 1.4 (10.1%)

3.6 b (22.6%) 3.5 b (20.0%) 1.5 (09.0%)

1 Means with like subscripts are significantly different at p <0.05. MANOVA results indicated a significant multivariate main effect for the analysis using frequencies (F (10,106) = 2.42, p = <0.01, Wilk's value = 0.66191) and for the analysis using proportions (F (10,106) = 2.66, p = <0.006, Wilk's value = 0.63898). Regarding the analysis of frequencies, univariate effects were found for instrumental thought units (F (2,57) = 5.48, p <0.006), self-oriented assessments (F (2,57) = 3.6, p <0.03) and for partner-oriented assessments (F (2,57) = 4.23, p <0.01). For category proportions results were similar, though the univariate effect for instrumental thought units was just short of significance (F (2,57) = 2.91, p <0.06). Post hoc examination of significant result concerning instrumental thoughts using Newman-Keul's procedure revealed that the indirect group had a higher frequence of instrumental thoughts than did the moderate or highly direct groups. In addition, the direct group had significantly more self-oriented thoughts than either the moderate or the highly indirect groups. Finally, examination of the partner assessment variable revealed that the moderately direct group had more partner assessments than did the other two groups. To investigate Research Question 4, the final analysis addressed the effects of partner tactics on own conversational cognitions. For this analysis, partner tactic scores were divided into three groups based on their tactics scores. MANOVA revealed a near significant multivariate main effect for partner tactics on the thought category frequences (F (10,106) = 1.63, p <0.08, Wilk's value = 1.74) and a significant effect for category proportions (F (10,106) = 2.20, p <0.03, Wilk's value = 0.7046). These analyses yielded similar patterns of univariate effects but because the analysis of proportions reached conventional levels of statistical significance, it was chosen for subsequent analysis. Significant univariate effects pertaining to the proportions of instrumental thoughts (F (2,57) = 6.8, p <0.002) and self-directed assessments (F (2,57) = 4.1, p <0.01) were also obtained. Post hoc analysis revealed that participants whose partners used indirect tactics had proportionately more instrumental goal-directed thoughts than did participants with either moderately direct or highly

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Table 5 Thought units as a function of partner tactic directness Partner Tactic Directness Thought Units Goal Oriented Instrumental Appropriateness Assessment-Oriented Self-assessments Partner-assessments Topic Oriented

Direct

Moderate

Indirect

1.6a1 (13.3%) 3.1 (19.9%) 4.2 (29.6%) 2.1 (14.5%) 2.6 (16.9%) 2.1 (13.8%) 5.0 (39.9%) 3.4 (21.6%) 3.1 (21.0%) 2.5 (19.4%) 3.9 (26.8%) 3.3 (25.4%) 1.3 (09.7%) 1.4 (10.2%) 1.2 (09.0%)

1 Means with a subscripts are significantly different at p <0.01. direct partners. Post hoc analysis also revealed that participants with direct partners had proportionately more self-directed thoughts than did participants with either highly indirect or moderately indirect partners. Results of this analysis are reported in Table 5. Discussion The results reported here provide a potentially useful description of conversational cognitions in complex interactions and also establish a tentative link between conversational cognition and conversational behaviour. In addition, the findings suggest that the cued-recall method used by Cegala and associates (1988) to study small-talk exchanges has utility in more complex interactions. The descriptive results pertaining to the thought unit category data are interesting in several respects. First, they indicate that goal-oriented thought, a central feature of rationalist approaches to conversation (e.g. O'Keefe, 1988), was fairly prominent in subjects' reports of their conversational cognitions (38% of all thought units). This may not be surprising given the fairly structured nature of the conversational task. However, one can imagine many instances of real life communication that have relatively equally clear cut task goals (e.g. firing or hiring an employee; negotiating the price of a house; persuading someone to do something). Because the definition of goal-directed thought units in this study was a relatively stringent one, the 38% figure seems substantial. However, the relative lack of relational- and identity-oriented thoughts is puzzling. Given that a fairly large number of participants used tactics that were at least minimally indirect, one might expect more thoughts directed toward face concerns. It may be that relational and identity management goals are less cognitively accessible and perhaps less 'rational' than are instrumental goals.

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The association of an Actor-Action-Goal structure with goal-orientedness deserves additional attention. It is problematic in the goal-management literature that almost any thought can be considered relevant to some goal at some level of analysis. By emphasising the action component of conversational thoughts, the current study comes close to associating goal-orientedness with planning (e.g. Berger, 1988). The category system used here makes a distinction between conversational assessments and those conversational thoughts more centrally concerned with the production of goal-directed action (although sometimes these goal-oriented thoughts involved hypothesised, but not actually executed, actions or speculations about actions already taken). This approach to conversational cognition is a first step toward a better understanding of cognitive components of message production. However, the thought categories presented here are the authors' interpretations of the participants' reconstructions. This 'twice-removed' nature of the data warrants cautious interpretation. Regarding Research Question 2, it is interesting that the goal manipulation had no effect on the composition of the thought listings. As was suggested earlier, the tendency to avoid embarrassment of the partner may be so conventionalised and intrinsic to the performance of face threatening tasks that explicit instruction may be unnecessary or unnoticed. This fnding suggests that it may be difficult to manipulate some conversational goals in a laboratory setting. Related to this, it may be that instrumental and noninstrumental goals are so inextricably linked in conversation that it is impossible to separate them in the manner attempted here. With the current category system, thought units which describe indirect strategies used to achieve the instrumental goal are likely to be coded 'instrumental' even though indirectness has relational and identity management implications. This may account for the relatively low proportion of appropriateness-oriented thoughts. Finally, the experimental process may have a demand characteristic which makes instrumental goals more prominent (and other interpersonal goals less prominent) during the cued-recall process. Participants may pay more attention to their instrumental success when watching themselves on videotape than they might during actual conversation. The results pertaining the Research Question 3 provide some preliminary evidence regarding the role of cognition in tactic generation. In general, the results support the expected relationship between directness and increased levels of goal-oriented thinking. The direct group, which used fairly simple tactics designed to achieve only one (instrumental) conversational goal, also engaged in minimal goal-oriented thinking. This group apparently devoted cognitive resources to concerns about self (e.g. nervousness, uncertainty), that might otherwise be directed toward more sophisticated goal management strategies. Such an explanation is consistent with the earlier Cegala et al. (1988) study, which found that communicators scoring low on measures related to communication competence (interaction involvement) had fewer partner-oriented cognitions. Conversely, the indirect group apparently devoted the largest proportion of cognitive energy to the conversational task and used indirect tactics which appeared to serve the instrumental goal but also attended to face needs.

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The moderate group may represent a balance between appropriateness and effectiveness. This group's effectiveness is evidenced in its information acquisition score. Like members of the direct group, those using moderately direct tactics obtained more of the required information (F (2,57) = 28.94, p <0.001) than did members of the indirect group. While the groups cannot be distinguished by what was labelled 'appropriateness-oriented' thoughts in this study, the results pertaining to partner evaluations suggest that moderate group members did apparently pay more attention to their partners than did members of the other groups. Whereas the indirect communicators may have devoted most of their cognitive resources to planning elaborate tactics, the moderate group may have settled for tactics that provided some face support but were also effective. Because their tactics were less cognitively taxing, this group may have been able to devote more cognitive resources to partner concerns before and after the information was obtained. The final interesting result pertained to Research Question 4, which concerned the link between partner tactics and cognitions. Cognitions were found to be at least partially a response to the partner's tactics. These results suggest that a given communicator's goal management strategy may be dependent on the strategy used by the partner. Specifically, highly strategic partners may create a situation where strategic communication is required. Direct partners, because they are more face threatening, may promote thoughts about self and self-states. These results argue against conceptions of goal management ability as a function of communicators' predispositions or predetermined plans. Rather, goal management appears to involve online cognitive adjustment. In general, the self-reported conversational cognitions appear to provide a means of linking goals and message productiona connection that O'Keefe (1988) has suggested needs more careful attention. If analysed appropriately, the thought listing may provide some evidence of the messages design logics O'Keefe has described. Future studies should describe the link beween cognition and tactics at a finer level of granularity, specifying how thoughts relate to more specific conversational moves rather than rough measures of tactic indirectness. Notes 1. Additional analyses pertaining to the research questions and expected relationships described earlier used the MANOVA procedure with the thought listing categories as dependent variables. These analyses were conducted using both the frequencies (treated as ratio-level data) and the proportions associated with each category. Because of low frequencies, the identity management and relational categories were combined to form a single appropriateness-oriented goal category prior to the analyses. 2. To consider possible dyadic effects, intraclass correlations were computed on the dependent variables. The average intraclass correlation was 0.17, suggesting that dyadic effects were negligible. Analyses were also computed using average dyad scores and the results revealed patterns similar to those reported here for individual level analyses.

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References Berger, C. R. (1988) Planning, affect, and social action generation. In L. Donohew, H. E. Sypher and E. T. Higgins (eds) Communication, Social Cognition and Affect. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Bingham, S. G. and Burleson, B. R. (1988) Multiple effects of messages having multiple goals: Some perceived outcomes of responses to sexual harassment. Paper presented at the Ninth Annual Discourse Conference, Philadelphia, PA. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. (1978) Universals of language usage: Politeness phenomena. In E. N. Goody Questions and Politeness: Strategies in Social Interaction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cegala, D. J. (1981) Interaction involvement: A cognitive dimension of communication competence. Communication Education 30, 109-21. (1984) Affective and cognitive manifestations of interaction involvement during unstructured and competitive interactions. Communication Monographs 51, 320-38. Cegala, D. J., Teboul, B. and Waldron, V. R. (1989). An assessment of a method for measuring thoughts and feelings during interaction. Unpublished manuscript, Ohio State University. Cegala, D. J., Waldro, V. R., Ludlum, J., McCabe, B., Yost, S. and Teboul, B. (1988). A study of interactants' thoughts and feelings during conversation. Paper presented at the Ninth Annual Conference on Discourse Analysis, Philadelphia, PA. Clark, R. A. and Delia, J. G. (1979) Topoi and rhetorical competence. The Quarterly Journal of Speech 65, 187-206. Craig, R. T. (1986) Goals in discourse. In D. G. Ellis and W. A. Donohue (eds) Contemporary Issues in Language and Discourse Processes. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Craig, R. T., Tracy, K. and Spisak, F. (1986) The discourse of requests: Assessment of a politeness approach. Human Communication Research 12, 437-68. Ericcson, K. A. and Simon, H. A. (1980) Verbal reports as data. Psychological Review 87, 215-61. (1984) Protocol Analysis: Verbal Reports as Data. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Goffman, E. (1969) Strategic Interaction. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Ickes, W., Robertson, E., Tooke, W. and Teng, G. (1986) Naturalistic social cognition: Methodology, assessment, and validation. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 51, 66-82. Langer, E. (1978) Rethinking the role of thought in social interaction. In J. H. Harvey, W. Ickes and R. Kidd (eds) New Directions in Attribution Theory and Research (Vol. 2). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Ochs, E. (1979) Planned and unplanned discourse. In T. Givon (ed.) Syntax and Semantics, 12: Discourse and Syntax. New York: Academic Press. O'Keefe, B. J. (1988) The logic of message design: Individual differences in reasoning about communication. Communication Monographs 55, 80-103. O'Keefe, B. J. and Delia, J. G. (1982) Impression formation and message production. In M. E. Roloff and C. E. Berger (eds) Social Cognition and Communciation. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. O'Keefe, B. J. and McCornack, S. A. (1987) Message design logic and message goal structure: Effects on perceptions of message quality in regulative communcation situations. Human Communication Research 14, 68-92. O'Keefe, B. J. and Shepherd, G. J. (1987) The pursuit of multiple objectives in face-to-face persuasive interactions: Effects of construct differentiation on message organization. Communication Monographs 54, 397-419. Scott, W. A. (1955) Reliability of content analysis: The case of nominal scale coding. Public Opinion Quarterly 19, 321-5. Spitzberg, B. H. and Cupach, W. R. (1984) Interpersonal Communication Competence. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage.

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Tracy, K. (1984) The effect of multiple goals on conversational relevance and topic shift. Communication Monographs 51, 27487. Tracy, K. and Moran, J. P. III (1983) Conversational relevance in multiple-goal settings. In R. T. Craig and K. Tracy (eds.) Conversational Coherence: Form, Structure, and Strategy. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Wiemann, J. T. (1977) Explication and test of a model of communicative competence. Human Communication Research 3, 195213.

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Social Goals and Speech Production: Effects of Multiple Goals on Pausal Phenomena John O. Greene, A. E. Lindsey and John J. Hawn Department of Communication, Purdue University, West Lafayette, Indiana 47907, USA Abstract There is a current widespread recognition that communication involves the production and processing of messages aimed at accomplishing multiple social goals. Despite this, it remains to discover how people design and implement such messages. The research reported here was undertaken to examine various temporal and content features of multiple-goal messages on the assumption that these features are essential to the development of theory in this domain. The speech of participants given a great number of social goals was contrasted with that of participants assigned the task of pursuing fewer goals. Messages developed in pursuit of more goals were found to be characterised by slower speech onset latency, longer message duration, more frequent use of sociocentric sequences, and a higher rate of ideational repetitions. The effects of construct differentiation on these variables were also examined, but proved to have little effect on the message features of interest. One result of the current diversity in approaches to the study of communciation is that there is little consensus about the fundamental features and characteristics of the communication process. Indeed, Tulving's (1979: 27) observation that, 'After a hundred years . . . we still do not seem to possess any concepts that the majority of workers would consider important or necessary', may apply as much to communication as to memory research. It is particularly noteworthy, then, that theoretical and empirical work reflecting a range of perspectives has converged on the idea that communication involves the production and processing of messages aimed at accomplishing multiple social goals (e.g. Brown & Levinson, 1978; Clark & Delia, 1979; Clippenger, 1977; Goffman, 1967, Halliday, 1970; Hobbs & Evans, 1980; Winograd, 1977). The widespread recognition of this point suggests that pursuit of multiple goals stands as an essential feature of interpersonal communication. The conceptual and practical significance of communication addressing multiple goals has led to an extensive literature on the topic, but, although we have enhanced our understanding of the characteristics of messages designed to accomplish multiple goals, and the social and individual factors that contribute to

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such messages (e.g. Baxter, 1984, Hale, 1986, Kline, 1982, 1984; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987; Tracy, 1984; Tracy & Moran, 1983), little is known about the cognitive mechanisms that underlie the production of these messages. In other words, it remains to discover how people design and implement messages aimed at accomplishing multiple goals. The research reported here was undertaken to examine various temporal and content features of multiple-goal messages on the assumption that these features are invaluable in arriving at an understanding of how such messages are produced. Models of message production based on conceptions of cognitive processes that are executed in real time or that make demands upon limited processing resources can be considered plausible only to the extent that they are consistent with observed properties of behaviour (Anderson, 1976; Greene, 1984a, Swinney, 1984). Temporal and content characteristics of multiple-goal messages thus constitute important empirical constraints on models of message production, and, as such, are essential to the development of theory in this domain. Multiple Goals and Speech Production As a point of departure for investigations in this area it is useful to begin with the general working hypothesis that, in contrast to messages aimed at accomplishing fewer social goals, 1 messages designed to accomplish a greater number of goals will be characterised by evidence of increased time and processing-capacity requirements for message formulation and execution. A substantial body of theory and data on motoric and/or cognitive performance makes clear that, ceteris paribus, as the number, complexity, or processing-capacity demands of tasks increase, so, too, will the time required to initiate and/or execute those tasks (e.g. Dixon & Just, 1986; Kahneman, 1973; Lansman & Hunt, 1982; Logan, 1979; Norman & Bobrow, 1975; Schneider & Shiffrin, 1977; Shiffrin & Schneider, 1977). If this phenomenon extends to the realm of social goals, then we should expect that messages addressing an increasing number of goals will exhibit various features indicative of time and processing-capacity demands. For example, these features should differentiate a message addressing both an instrumental goal and a secondary goal from a less complex message addressing a single instrumental goal. In fact, there is some suggestive literature which supports this general point. First, although not directly related to the question of the effects of multiple social goals, it is well established that there is a positive relationship between difficulty of message production and increases in a variety of pausal phenomena. For example, opportunity for planning speech in advance of actual production has been shown to result in speeded responses (e.g. Butterworth, 1980; Greene, 1984b; Lindsley, 1975; Tannenbaum & Williams, 1968). Similarly, speech on difficult or abstract topics (e.g. Reynolds & Paivio, 1968; Taylor, 1969) is associated with less fluency. As one further example, explanatory narratives are characterised by less fluent speech than are descriptions (Goldman-Eisler, 1961; Siegman, 1979). With respect to the specific question of effects of multiple goals, there is considerably less evidence. If it is assumed that a deceiver has multiple goals (see Cody,

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Marston & Foster, 1984; Greene, O'Hair, Cody & Yen, 1985; Zuckerman, DePaulo & Rosenthal, 1981), then evidence of slower and less fluent speech when delivering spontaneous narrative lies rather than planned ones would be consistent with the proposed relationship between number of goals and temporal characteristics of speech (e.g. Harrison, Hwalek, Raney & Fritz, 1978; Kraut, 1978). This effect, however, has not always emerged (e.g. O'Hair, Cody & McLaughlin, 1981). In fact, the deception literature suggests a number of factors that may mediate the basic relationship between number of social goals and characteristics of speech production (see Greene, O'Hair, Cody & Yen, 1985; Zuckerman, De Paulo & Rosenthal, 1981). Our current understanding of the information processing system thus suggests that pursuit of multiple goals will be associated with greater time and/or processing capacity demands, and that these demands will be manifested in overt behaviour (see Greene, 1988; Siegman, 1979). More specifically, based on previous studies of the effects of cognitive load on speech production, we might expect that more difficult communicative tasks will lead to longer speech-onset latencies and increased silent pausing once speech has begun. Further, because filled pauses may be used to delay speech production during planning (Beattie & Bradbury, 1979; Levin, Silverman & Ford, 1967; Reynolds & Paivio, 1968; Taylor, 1969), we might expect that the incidence of such vocalisations will increase when pursuing multiple goals, although this effect may be attenuated in monologue speaking situations (see Greene, 1988; Greene, Smith, Smith & Cashion, 1987). Finally, we need to recognise that the speaker may make use of features of message content that permit fluent speech during periods of increased cognitive load (see GoldmanEisler, 1958). Most obvious in this regard are the repetition of ideas and sociocentric sequences (e.g. 'you know', 'I guess', 'okay'); such devices may allow the speaker to continue talking despite the demands of planning processes. The rationale developed to this point hinges upon the assumption that pursuit of multiple goals will be associated with increased cognitive load. However, it is important to note that the relationship between the complexity of cognitive processing and cognitive load is mediated by practice effects. A wealth of evidence on skill acquisition shows that practice on a task results in decreasing demands on time and processing capacity (see Newell & Rosenbloom, 1981). One implication of this fact is the possibility that individuals who commonly pursue multiple social goals may not experience the same cognitive load under multiple-goal conditions as people who are less practiced in these pursuits. This idea is particularly important in the context of previous research on multiple social goals. Among the more prominent conceptual contributions in this area have been those that centre on construct differentiation (e.g. Kline, 1982, 1984; O'Keefe & Delia, 1982; O'Keefe & Shepherd, 1987; Shepherd & O'Keefe, 1984, 1985). Researchers focusing on the role of this individualdifference variable in message production have proposed that people with more highly differentiated and abstract construct systems tend to frequently pursue multiple goals in social interaction (O'Keefe & Delia, 1982). Thus, due to the role of practice effects, highly differentiated people may show fewer manifestations of cognitive load than

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their less differentiated counterparts. In light of these theoretical considerations, the research reported here included an examination of the mediating effects of construct differentiation on speech production phenomena. In summary, characterising the message properties associated with pursuit of multiple social goals is an essential step toward developing theories of message production. In keeping with this aim, the research reported here sought to investigate potential indicants of increased time and/or processing capacity demands accompanying multiple social goals. In addition, because the relationship between multiple goals and speech production may be mediated by construct differentiation, the effects of this individual-difference variable were also examined. Experiment Method Procedure and Stimulus Materials In order to assess construct differentiation, all participants first completed the Role Category Questionnaire (RCQ) (Crockett, 1965) as part of a regular class session. Prior to his/her arival for the experimental session, each participant was randomly assigned to one of the two experimental conditions ('single goal' or 'multiple goal'). All participants were run individually. In the first phase of the experiment participants were fitted with a headset microphone and received a set of written and verbal instructions indicating that they would be asked to speak on a topic provided by the experimenter. The topic for discussion was typed on a sheet enclosed in a folder so that participants were unable to plan the content of their talk in advance. When participants indicated that they understood the procedure they were presented with a folder containing the following typed statement: Your task is to discuss the best and worst aspects of your most recent summer job. Upon a signal from the experimenter, the participant opened the folder, read the topic aloud, and discussed the issue for as long as he/she wished. This monologue was used to establish baseline covariates for the message features examined in the study. In the second phase of the experiment, participants were presented with a second set of instructions. Participants were asked to assume that they were employed by a fictitious company and that their task was to review the job performance files for a number of employees in that company. Participants were instructed to 'take time to read the person's performance report carefully'. Following these instructions, a single file with a job performance description for 'John C. Stevens' was given to the participant, and he/she was given a few minutes to familiarise themself with its content. After reviewing this file, participants received instructions for the second monologue task. As with the first monologue, participants were instructed to wait

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for the experimenter's signal, then open the folder, read the topic aloud, and speak for as long as they wished. This second monologue task varied with the two experimental conditions. Individuals in the single-goal condition received instructions to report to a third party concerning the performance of the employee whose file they had reviewed, with the stipulation that they be clear and direct in their report. The direction to address a third party was included to deter the spontaneous generation of face support for the employee. Participants in the multiple-goal condition, in contrast, were to report to the employee, himself, concerning his job performance. These individuals were instructed not only to be clear and direct, but also to show concern for the employee's feelings and self-esteem. For participants in the single goal condition, the instructions were as follows: Your task is to report on the job performance of John Stevens to his superiors. Assume that Mr. Stevens will not be aware of your comments. Please try to be as clear and direct as possible. In contrast, participants in the multiple-goal condition received the following instructions: Your task is to report on the job performance of John Stevens to Mr. Stevens himself. Please try to be clear and direct while also showing concern for his feelings and self-esteem. Following the second monologue, participants were given a ten-item scale as a check on the goal manipulation. This scale included five items designed to tap participants' concern for clarity and directness, and five items assessing concern with face support (see Appendix A), arranged in random order. Responses were made on seven-point scales bounded by the descriptors 'Not at all true of me' and 'Very true of me'; participants were instructed to indicate 'how important each of these goals were as to you when you made the previous recording'. After completing the manipulations check, participants were debriefed concerning the purposes and procedures of the experiment, thanked, and dismissed. Participants Participants were 26 males and 44 females enrolled in undergraduate communication courses at a large Midwestern university. All individuals received course credit for their participation. Equipment Audio recordings of participant monologues were made using a Shure SM10A unidirectional microphone coupled with a Sanyo RD 7 stereophonic cassette tape recorder. Dependent Variables Speech onset latency was measured as the length of time between completion of reading the instructions and the first substantive vocalisation. Initial non-lexical utterances and sociocentric sequences were not taken as the onset of vocalisation. This interval was measured by use of a digital stopwatch.

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Silent pausing during speech was expressed as pause/phonation ratio, defined as the total duration of silent pauses after the onset of speech to the total duration of phonation. These periods of silence and phonation were assessed by use of a computer system designed for this purpose. The speech signal was analysed by use of a LabMaster analogue-to-digital interface device and Zenith 248 PC supporting the Labtech Notebook software package. A second program was written to smooth the data output from Labtech Notebook by computing a running average over a specified number of data points and then to compare this average to a threshold value in order to define periods of phonation or silence. The output of this procedure is thus a string of digits representing periods of sound or silence where each observation unit was of user-specified duration. In this experiment, the observational unit was set at 250 msec by sampling the speech signal 40 times per second and averaging over ten data points. A unit of this duration was selected to be consistent with previous work on silent pausing in spontaneous speecch (e.g. Beattie, 1978, 1980; Butterworth, 1980; Cappella & Streibel, 1979; Greene, 1984c; Siegman, 1979). In addition to these chronometric measurements, a number of content variables were examined. Transcripts were made of each participant's second monologue. These transcripts were then checked for accuracy by a second person working independently of the first. Finally the transcripts were coded for the occurrence of filled pauses, sociocentric sequences, and ideational repetitions. Coders were instructed to identify sociocentric sequences as non-substantive, routinised words and/or phrases in each monologue. 2 Ideational repetitions were coded as any repetition of an idea in the monologue content, where the content may or may not have contained similar phrasing, but expressed a similar meaning. For example, 'is there something about the job you don't like?' was coded as a repetition of 'what seems to be bothering you on the job?'; 'you've worked here for ten years' was repeated as 'ten year's experience'; and 'he's losing his job goodness' was followed later by 'his performance is not up to par', and so on. Filled pause rate was computed by dividing the number of 'er', 'um', and 'ah' vocalisations by the total duration of phonation in the monologue, expressed in seconds. Similar ratios were computed for rate of sociocentric sequences and ideational repetitions. Data analysis and results Reliability of Dependent Measures Speech onset latency for all monologues was measured by a single person. In order to establish the reliability of these measurements, a second person independently timed the onset latency of the first and second monologues for 28 subjects. The Pearson product-moment correlation between the two timers for these 56 events was greater than 0.99. The reliability of the silent-pause measurement was assessed by treating the same monologue with two passes through the analysis system. A pause event was defined when a pause was detected in either pass. This analysis revealed a total of 53 pause events in the two rounds, with a reliability coefficient of 0.91 for the duration of these pauses.

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The coding of filled pauses, sociocentric sequences, and ideational repetitions was performed by a single individual. In order to establish the reliability of this coding, a second person independently coded 27 of the transcripts. The correlations for number of filled pauses, sociocentric sequences, and ideational repetitions detected by these coders were, respectively, 0.99, 0.94, and 0.87. Experimental Manipulation Responses to the five items from the post-monologue inventory dealing with concern for clarity and directness were summed and divided by five. Cronbach's alpha for this scale was 0.87. A similar scale comprised of the five items tapping concern for face support yielded a reliability coefficient of 0.88. A t-test on the means for the 'directness' scale revealed no difference between the single-goal (M = 5.76) and multiple-goal (M = 5.89) groups (t(68) = 0.59, p = 0.554). Thus, the two groups were equal in their concern with being clear and direct in their comments. In contrast, the subjects in the multiple-goal condition (M = 5.91) were significantly more concerned with showing support for the other than were the subjects in the single-goal condition (M = 4.77), (t(68) = 4.37, p = 0.000). Thus, the manipulation of single versus multiple social goals was judged successful. RCQ Distribution The RCQ responses for all participants were coded by a single person. A second person independently coded one quarter (19) of these questionnaires in order to determine coding reliability. This procedure produced a product-moment correlation of 0.984 between the number of constructs detected by the two coders. The mean RCQ score for participants in this investigation was 24.16. For the subsequent analyses, those individuals falling above the median were designated as the 'high-differentiation' group (n = 35) and those below as the 'low-differentiation' group (n = 35). Speech Onset Latency Because many features of speech production are characterised by a stable individual-difference component (see Greene, 1988), speech onset latency was treated by a 2 x 2 (number of goals by construct differentiation) ANCOVA where each individual's onset latency for the first monologue was used as the covariate. 3 This analysis produced a significant effect for number of goals (F(1,49) = 7.32, p = 0.009), and a marginally significant effect for construct differentiation (F(1,49) = 3.98, p = 0.052). There was no significant interaction effect (F(1,49) = 0.37, p = 0.548). Inspection of the means given in Table 1 reveals that the significant effect for number of goals was due to the fact that participants in the single-goal condition exhibited much shorter response latencies than those in the multiple-goal condition. The effect associated with construct differentiation can be seen to arise from the fact that the high-differentiation individuals tended to be faster than the low-differentiation group.

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Table 1 Adjusted cell means and standard deviations for speech onset latency (sec) Construct Differentiation

Single Goal Multiple Goal

Low

High

3.94 (1.78)* 6.76 (5.78)

2.74 (1.24) 4.52 (2.17)

* Standard deviations are given in parentheses. Monologue Duration Although not a part of our initial hypothesising, it became apparent during the data collection that individuals in the multiplegoal condition were producing longer messages than their counterparts in the single-goal condition. In order to investigate this effect, monologue duration, expressed in seconds, was treated by a 2 x 2 ANCOVA with the duration of the first monologue used as the covariate. 4 This analysis revealed a significant effect for number of goals (F(1,64) = 5.53, p = 0.022), but no effect for construct differentiation, (F(1,64) = .55, p = 0.460), or the interaction between number of goals and differentiation, (F(1,64) =0.11, p = 0.743). The adjusted cell means revealed that participants in the multiple-goal condition (M = 56.38) did, indeed talk longer than those in the single-goal group (M = 40.78). An analysis of variance on the number of words in these monologues showed a similar effect for number of goals (F(1,65) =16.59, p = 0.0000), with multiple-goal individuals (M = 143.72) producing significantly more words than single-goal individuals (M = 81.00). Once again, there was no significant effect for construct differentiation (F(1,65) = 0.13, p = 0.720) or the interaction term (F(1,65) = 0.12, p = 0.726). Pause/Phonation Ratio In order to examine the effects of multiple goals on silent pausing during speech, pause/phonation ratio was treated by a 2 x 2 (number of goals by construct differentiation) ANCOVA, where each subject's pause/phonation ratio from the first monologue was used as the covariate. This analysis showed that the effect for number of goals approached, but did not reach, conventional levels of significance (F(1,64) = 3.53, p = 0.064). This effect was due to the fact that participants given a single goal (M = 0.229) tended to pause less than those given two goals (M = 0.350). Neither the construct differentiation effect (F(1,64) = 0.24, p = 0.622) nor the interaction effect (F(1,64) = 2.17, p = 0.146) was significant.

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Table 2 Adjusted cell means and standard deviations for filled pause rate Construct Differentiation

Single Goal Multiple Goal

Low

High

0.087 (0.116) 0.160 (0.099)

0.134 (0.109) 0.122 (0.067)

* Standard deviations are given in parentheses. Filled Pause Rate Filled pause rate was computed by dividing the number of filled pauses in the participant's monologue by the total duration of phonation for the monologue. In this way the denominator of this ratio was not inflated by time spent in silent pausing (when it would be impossible to produce a filled pause). In contrast to the previous analyses, the ANCOVA on this variable produced no effect for number of goals (F(1,64) = 1.94, p = 0.168) or for construct differentiation (F(1,64) = 0.04, p = 0.845). There was, however, a marginally significant effect for the interaction term (F(1,64) = 3.82, p = 0.055) (see Table 2). Sociocentric Sequences Just as for filled pause ratio, the rate of sociocentric sequences was computed by dividing the number of sociocentric sequences by the total duration of phonation for the monologue. A 2 x 2 ANOVA on this variable produced a main effect for number of goals (F(1,65) = 11.87, p = 0.001). This effect was due to the fact that individuals in the multiple goal condition (M = 0.046) tended to make more frequent use of sociocentric sequences than those in the single-goal condition (M = 0.014). Neither the construct differentiation effect (F(1,65) =1.36, p = 0.248) nor the interaction effect (F(1,65) = 0.18, p = 0.674) was significant. Ideational Repetitions In order to determine how much of the subjects' talk time was spent in repeating ideas already mentioned, the number of ideational repetitions was divided by total phonation time. Like the rate of sociocentric sequences, this variable was then treated by a 2 x 2 ANOVA. This analysis revealed a significant effect for number of goals (F(1,65) = 6.33, p = 0.014), but, again, there was no significant effect for construct diffrentiation (F(1,65) = 1.52, p = 0.222) or the goals-by-differentiation interaction (F(1,65) = 0.10, p =0.751). In keeping with the results for the other variables examined here, the effect due to number of goals was the result of more frequent ideational repetitions by the multiple goal group (M = 0.021) than the single-goal group (M = 0.008).

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Discussion This investigation was undertaken in order to examine characteristics of messages produced in pursuit of multiple social goals on the assumption that such information is essential to the development of theories in this domain. We were particularly concerned with those message features that might be indicative of time and/or processing-capacity requirements associated with production of multiple-goal messages. In addition, because much work in the area of multiple social goals has focused on the role of construct differentiation, a secondary focus of this experiment was to examine possible effects of this individualdifference variable on the message features of interest. In the light of the effects of practice and familiarity in mediating the relationship between task complexity and cognitive load, and because highly differentiated people are assumed to pursue multiple social goals more often, it was plausible to suggest that this group would exhibit fewer disruptive effects under conditions of multiple goals. With respect to the question of the characteristics of multiple-goal messages, this experiment revealed that, relative to individuals given a single social goal, individuals given multiple goals exhibited significantly longer latencies before the onset of speech. Further, there was a trend (p = 0.064) toward greater pausing during speech for these participants. The multiple-goal group also produced messages that were significantly longer than those produced by subjects in the single-goal condition. Finally, the multiple-goal messages were characterised by higher rates of sociocentric sequences and ideational repetitions. Taken together, these results provide strong support for the hypothesis that, relative to single-goal situations, pursuit of multiple goals is associated with more complex processing and greater cognitive load. The only index examined here that did not fit this pattern was filled pause rate. As was noted at the outset, the expectations for this variable were not particularly clear-cut. While there is evidence that filled pauses can be used to slow speech output during more difficult processing (Levin, Silverman & Ford, 1967; Reynolds & Paivio, 1968; Taylor, 1969), silent pauses and filled pauses are not strictly equivalent. Brotherton (1979) suggests that while silent pausing reflects difficulty of semantic planning, filled pauses are related to lexical choice. Further, because filled pauses may serve to prevent interruptions by the listener while speech is delayed (Maclay & Osgood, 1959), filled pauses may not be as important for assessing cognitive load in monologue tasks, like that used here, where there is no chance for interruption. In support of this point is the fact that other research employing monologue speaking tasks has produced significant effects for silent pausing but not for filled pause rate (e.g. Greene, 1984b; Greene, Smith, Smith & Cashion, 1987). The results of the current investigation concerning the effects of construct differentiation are much less compelling than those concerning cognitive load. Construct differentiation produce a marginally significant (p = 0.052) main effect for speech onset latency, and there was a trend (p = 0.055) toward a significant interaction between number of goals and construct differentiation for filled pause rate, but no clear-cut main effect or interaction effect for any variable examined

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in this study. This pattern of results is in keeping with the familiar observation that such individual differences variables are not robust predictors of behaviour (Mischel, 1968, 1973; Mischel & Peake, 1982). One possible explanation for the lack of significant effects attributable to construct differentiation is that despite the fact that the manipulation check indicated that individuals in the multiple-goal condition were significantly more concerned with face support than those in the single-goal condition, the messages of the low-differentiation participants in the multiple-goal condition may not have actually reflected features indicative of face support. In other words, the speech fluency of low-differentation individuals given multiple social goals may not have differed from that of the high-differentiation subjects due to the fact that they did not actually produce messages designed to accomplish multiple goals. In order, to investigate this possibility, six coders blind to the experimental conditions and hypotheses provided independent ratings of the degree of face support evident in each of the 69 monologue transcripts. In each case, the coders rated the presence of face support in the message by indicating on an 11-point scale the extent to which they felt it reflected 'a concern for the feelings and self-esteem' of the recipient. Following Epstein's (e.g. 1979, 1983) argument, these ratings were aggregated over judges in order to insure reliability. The ratings of each message made by three judges were summed and correlated with the aggregated ratings of the remaining three judges. This procedure produced a reliability coefficient of 0.884 for ratings of face support. Given this, all the coders' ratings were summed and divided by six to produce a composite rating of degree of face support in each subject's monologue. This index was then subjected to a 2x2 (number of goals by construct differentiation) ANOVA. This procedure produced a highly significant effect for experimental condition (F(1,65) = 30.96, p = 0.0000), and a main effect for construct differentiation (F(1,65)=4.35, p = 0.041), but no significant interaction effect (F(1,65) = 2.51, p = 0.118). This analysis thus suggests that although the low-differentiation individuals tended to produce messages that were not as high in face support as those given by the high-differentiation group, their messages in the multiple-goal condition did reflect an effort to accomplish both social goals (see Table 3). The current failure to find effects on speech fluency due to construct differentiation is therefore not clearly attributable to the failure of the low-differentiation participants to address multiple goals. Table 3 Adjusted cell means and standard deviations for face support Construct Differentiation

Single Goal Multiple Goal

Low

High

4.51 (1.91) 6.44 (2.31)

4.75 (2.05) 8.22 (1.49)

* Standard deviations are given in parentheses.

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A second possible explanation for the lack of effects due to construct differentiation is that while a highly differentiated person may be familiar with pursuit of instrumental and secondary goals, this familiarity may afford little advantage in producing specific message content in a novel situation. Current conceptions of behavioural production (e.g. Greene, 1984c, 1989) emphasise that messages are hierarchical organisations of constituent features, where each feature specifies some limited property of behaviour. Abstract features of action, such as goals relevant to social ends, are specified at higher levels of the hierarchy and are used to constrain lower-level specifications for action, such as specific verbal content. These lower levels, in turn, serve to concretise more abstract features. While the habitual pursuit of multiple social goals should lessen the problems associated with combining more abstract elements of action, the problem of forming lower-level specifications for action may still remain. In other words, due to the hierarchical nature of the output system, a familiarity with combining relatively abstract features of messages may not afford an advantage for producing specific message contents in a novel situation. We might expect that effects for construct differentiation would be more likely to arise in those specific situations where highly differentiated individuals not only had experience combining abstract goals, but also in producing the specific speech content reflecting those goals. As a final note, a caveat is in order concerning the results reported here. The message features examined in the current study appear to support the notion that the pursuit of multiple goals is associated with an increase in cognitive load. We should be cautious, however, in the interpretation of these results; it is possible that these message features may serve a social function in addition to serving as indicants of cognitive load. For example, messages addressing face needs may be characterised by a strategic use of pauses in order to indicate to the listener the speaker's reluctance or difficulty in conveying this information. The possibility that the variables examined in the current study could serve social functions in communicating the speaker's hesitancy suggests a need to distinguish social from cognitive bases for pausal phenomena. Research in this direction has been undertaken in a continued series of multiple-goal studies (see Greene & Lindsey, 1989). Notes 1. The term 'social goals' here refers generally to goals that Greene (1984c) terms 'interaction functions'. 2. Sociocentric sequences coded in this study included (in order of frequency) the following words and phrases: you know, well, okay, I mean, like, so, say, I'd say, let me see, I don't know, maybe, and whatnot, perhaps, I would, just, I think, now, alright, see, or whatever, let's say. 3. It was not possible to assess speech onset latency for a number of subjects because they asked questions of the experimenter after reading the instructions for either the first or second monologue. 4. One subject was omitted from these analyses due to a failure to follow the monologue instructions.

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Appendix A: Clarity and Face Items Items tapping concern with clarity 1. I wanted my message to be as clear as possible. 2. I wanted to make sure the listener knew exactly what the problems were. 3. I wanted to minimise the chance of any misunderstanding about job performance. 4. I wanted to make sure my message was understood. 5. I wanted to be as direct as possible in conveying my message. Items tapping concern with support 1. I wanted to give support to the employee. 2. I did not want to hurt the employee's feelings. 3. I wanted the employee to know I was concerned with situation. 4. I wanted to convey my message and at the same time be sensitive to the other person. 5. I wanted to soften my criticism to protect other people's feelings. References Anderson, J. R. (1976) Language, Memory and Thought. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Baxter, L. A. (1984) An investigation of compliance-gaining as politeness. Human Communication Research 10, 427-56. Beattie, G. (1978) Floor-apportionment and gaze in conversational dyads. British Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology 17, 7-15. (1980) The role of language production processes in the organization of behaviour in face-to-face interaction. In B. Butterworth (ed.) Language Production: Vol. 1, Speech and Talk. London: Academic Press. Beattie, G. W. and Bradbury, R. J. (1979) An experimental investigation of the modifiability of the temporal structure of spontaneous speech. Journal of Psycholinguistic Research 8, 225-48. Brotherton, P. (1979) Speaking and not speaking: Processes for translating ideas into speech. In A. W. Siegman and S. Feldstein (eds) Of Speech and Time: Temporal Speech Patterns in Interpersonal Contexts. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. (1978) Universals in language usage: Politeness phenomena. In E. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness: Strategies in Social Interaction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Butterworth, B. (1980) Evidence from pauses in speech. In B. Butterworth (ed.) Language Production: Vol. 1, Speech and Talk. London: Academic Press. Cappella, J. N., and Streibel, M. J. (1979) Computer analysis of talk - silence sequences: The FIASSCO system. Behaviour Research Methods and Instrumentation 11, 384-92. Clark, R. A. and Delia, J. G. (1979) Topoi and rhetorical competence. Quarterly Journal of Speech 65, 187-206. Clippenger, J. H., Jr (1977) Meaning and Discourse: A Computer Model of Psychoanalytic Speech and Cognition. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Cody, M. J., Marston, P. J. and Foster, M. (1984) Deception: Paralinguistic and verbal leakage. In R. Bostrum (ed.) Communication Yearbook 8. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage.

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Crockett, W. H. (1965) Cognitive complexity and impression formation. In B. A. Mahler (ed.) Progress in Experimental Personality Research Vol. 2. New York: Academic Press. Dixon, P. and Just, M. A. (1986) A chronometric analysis of strategy preparation in choice reactions. Memory and Cognition 14, 488-500. Epstein, S. (1979) The stability of behaviour: I. On predicting most of the people much of the time. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 37, 1097-126. (1983) Aggregation and beyond: Some basic issues on the prediction of behavior. Journal of Personality 51, 360-92. Goffman, E. (1967) Interaction Ritual: Essays in Face-to-Face Behavior. Chicago: Aldine. Goldman-Eisler, F. (1958) Speech analysis and mental processes. Language and Speech 1, 59-75. (1961) Hesitation and information in speech. In C. Cherry (ed.) Information Theory. London: Butterworth. Greene, J. O. (1984a) Evaluating cognitive explanations of communicative phenomena. Quarterly Journal of Speech 70, 241-54. (1984b) Speech preparation processes and verbal fluency. Human Communication Research 11,61-84. (1984c) A cognitive approach to human communication: An action assembly theory. Communication Monographs 51, 289-306. (1988) Cognitive processes: Methods for probing the black box. In C. H. Tardy (ed.) A Handbook for the Study of Human Communication: Methods and Instruments for Observing, Measuring, and Assessing Communication Processes. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. (1989) The stability of nonverbal behaviour: An action - production approach to problems of cross-situational consistency and discriminativeness. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 8, 193-220. Greene, J. O. and Lindsey, A. E. (1989) Encoding processes in the production of multiple-goal messages. Human Communication Research 16, 120-40. Greene, J. O., O'Hair, H. D., Cody, M. J. and Yen, C. (1985) Planning and control of behavior during deception. Human Communication Research 11, 335-64. Greene, J. O., Smith, S. W., Smith, R. C. and Cashion, J. L. (1987) The sound of one mind working: Memory retrieval and response preparation as components of pausing in spontaneous speech. In M. L. McLaughlin (ed.) Communication Yearbook 10. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Hale, C. L. (1986) Impact of cognitive complexity in a face-threatening context. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 5, 135-43. Halliday, M. A. K. (1970) Language structure and language function. In J. Lyons (ed.) New Horizons in Linguistics. Baltimore: Penguin Books. Harrison, A. A., Hwalek, M., Raney, D. F. and Fritz, J. G. (1978) Cues to deception in an interview situation. Social Psychology 41, 156-61. Hobbs, J. R. and Evans, D. A. (1980) A cognitive model of planning. Cognitive Science 4, 349-77. Kahneman, D. (1973) Attention and Effort. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Kline, S. L. (1982) The effect of an instructional set on the provision of face support by persons varying in construct system development. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Speech Communication Association, Louisville. (1984) Construct differentiation and strategy repertoire. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the International Communication Association, San Francisco. Kraut, R. E. (1978) Verbal and nonverbal cues in the perception of lying. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 36, 38091. Lansman, M. and Hunt, E. (1982) Individual differences in secondary task performance. Memory and Cognition 10, 10-24. Levin, A., Silverman, I. and Ford, B. (1967) Hesitations in children's speech during explanation and description. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior 6, 560-4.

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Lindsley, J. R. (1975) Producing simple utterances: How far ahead do we plan? Cognitive Psychology 7, 1-19. Logan, G. D. (1979) On the use of concurrent memory load to measure attention and automaticity. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance 5, 189-207. Maclay, H. and Osgood, C. E. (1959) Hesitation phenomena in spontaneous English speech. Word 15, 19-44. Mischel, W. (1968) Personality and Assessment. New York: Wiley. (1973) Toward a cognitive social learning reconceptualization of personality. Psychological Review 80, 252-83. Mischel, W. and Peake, P. K. (1982) Beyond déjà vu in the search for cross-situational consistency. Psychological Review 89, 730-55. Newell, A. and Rosenbloom, P. S. (1981) Mechanisms of skill acquisition and the law of practice. In J. R. Anderson (ed.) Cognitive Skills and their Acquisition. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Norman, D. A. and Bobrow, D. G. (1975) On data-limited and resource-limited processes. Cognitive Psychology 7, 44-64. O'Hair, H. D., Cody, M. J. and McLaughlin, M. L. (1981) Prepared lies, spontaneous lies, Machiavellianism and nonverbal communication. Human Communication Research 7, 325-39. O'Keefe, B. J. and Delia, J. G. (1982) Impression formation and message production. In M. Roloff and C. Berger (eds) Social Cognition and Communication. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. O'Keefe, B. J. and Shepherd, G. J. (1987) The pursuit of multiple objectives in face-to-face interaction: Effects of construct differentiation on message organization. Communication Monographs 54, 396-419. Reynolds, A. and Paivio, A. (1968) Cognitive and emotional determinants of speech. Canadian Journal of Psychology 22, 16475. Schneider, W. and Shiffrin, R. N. (1977) Controlled and automatic human information processing: I. Detection, search, and attention. Psychological Review 84, 1-66. Shepherd, G. J. and O'Keefe, B. J. (1984) Interpersonal construct differentiation and the production of messages addressing multiple aims in persuasive situations. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Speech Communication Association, Chicago. (1985) Securing task, interactional, and relational objectives in interpersonal persuasive interactions. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Speech Communication Association, Denver. Shiffrin, R. N. and Schneider, W. (1977) Controlled and automatic human information processing: II. Perceptual learning, automatic attending, and a general theory. Psychological Review 84, 127-90. Siegman, A. W. (1979) Cognition and hesitation in speech. In A. W. Siegman and S. Feldstein (eds) Of Speech and Time: Temporal Speech Patterns in Interpersonal Contexts. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Swinney, D. (1984) Theoretical and methodological issues in cognitive science: A psycholinguistic perspective. In W. Kintsch, J. R. Miller and P. G. Polson (eds) Method and Tactic in Cognitive Science. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Tannenbaum, P. H. and Williams, F. (1968) Generation of active and passive sentences as a function of subject or object focus. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior 7, 246-50. Taylor, I. (1969) Content and structure in sentence production. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior 8, 170-5. Tracy, K. (1984) The effect of multiple goals on conversational relevance and topic shift. Communication Monographs 51, 27487. Tracy, K. and Moran, J. P. (1983) Conversational relevance in multiple-goal settings. In R. T. Craig and K. Tracy (eds) Conversational Coherence: Form, Structure and Strategy. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage.

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Tulving, E. (1979) Memory research: What kind of progress? In L. Nilsson (ed.) Perspectives on Memory Research: Essays in Honor of Uppsala University's 500th Anniversary. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Winograd, T. (1977) A framework for understanding discourse. In M. A. Just and P. Carpenter (eds) Cognitive Processes in Comprehension. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Zuckerman, M., DePaulo, B. M. and Rosenthal, R. (1981) Verbal and nonverbal communication of deception. In L. Berkowitz (ed.) Advances in Experimental Social Psychology Vol. 14. New York: Academic Press.

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Truths, Lies, and Equivocations. The Effects of Conflicting Goals on Discourse Janet Beavin Bavelas, Alex Black, Nicole Chovil and Jennifer Mullett Department of Psychology, University of Victoria, PO Box 3050, Victoria, BC, Canada V8W 3P5 Abstract This article proposes a situational and discourse-oriented view of a particular class of messages, equivocations, that have usually been dismissed as ineffective or even deceptive. We distinguish betweenand measure independentlywhat a message says (whether it is true or false) and how it is said (whether it is clear or equivocal), and we propose that the nature of the communicative situation determines the position of messages on these two coordinates. Specifically, situations can create external goals or consequences of messages, and these consequences can be positive or negative. There exists a class of situations in which all direct messages (true or false) have negative consequences. We predict that in these avoidance-avoidance conflicts, direct messages will be avoided and indirect, but true, equivocations should occur instead. Using hypothetical scenarios, the first four experiments confirmed that, in such conflicts but not in control conditions, people make their messages equivocal but true. A fifth experiment elicited false messages as well and showed that these could be distinguished from both clear and equivocal truths. Additional analyses showed that equivocations are not lies of omission and that nonverbal leakage did not occur in either equivocal or false messages. Henry II is said to have exclaimed, during his dispute with Thomas à Becket, 'Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?'. Superficially, this is simply a rhetorical question, requiring neither answer nor action; but it can also be seen as an indirect request, even a commandwhich is how it was taken and acted upon. Yet the king could always say, correctly, that he had never asked anyone to kill the priest. His message was therefore equivocal, 'having two or more significations equally appropriate; capable of double interpretation; ambiguous; of uncertain nature; undecided' (Shorter Oxford English Dictionary). Consider also this reply, given in one of our experiments: Question: Was Pat a good employee? Answer: Well, um, that's DEPENDS on what y' call a good EMPLOYEE. This equivocal response impliesbut does not saythat Pat is a good employee only if 'what y' call a good employee' is not very exacting. On the other hand, it

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does not say outright that Pat is not a good employee, much less that Pat is a bad employee. Such a reply may lead us to conclude that Pat was not a good employee but that the speaker does not wish to say this directly. We will describe here the final phase of almost ten years of experimental work on equivocation, research that has led us to admire these slippery statements and to see them as the best way to handle certain conflicting goals in interpersonal interactions: When all direct replies are proscribed, equivocation becomes a good solution. A Goal-Conflict Theory of Equivocation In contrast to theorists who focus more on processes inside the sender than on the message or its eliciting situation, our approach has a great deal in common with language theorists who advocate an exacting analysis of messages in the context of the communicants' social situation (Austin, 1962; Forgas, 1985; Garfinkel, 1967; Goffman, 1959; Hymes, 1974a, 1974b; Pike, 1966; Robinson, 1984; Sacks, 1984; Sapir, 1949a, 1949b). Because of this situational focus, the reader will notice several fundamental differences between our view and other goal theories (and, indeed, between our view and many current approaches to discourse). We are seeking to treat discourse entirely 'from the outside' - as a public event rather than a private mental process. We analyse and describe messages in terms of their impact on receivers or decoders, rather than making inferences about what the sender intended or meant by the message. Similarly, like Lewin (1935), Tolman (1932), and other early goal theorists, we treat goals as external, that is, as occurring in the situation rather than in the person. We take this position not because we deny that internal mental processes exist or that they are interesting for their own sake but for two other reasons. First, and most important, the dominant focus on mental processes has, in our opinion, led to a relative neglect of situational and social processes; in practice, it seems that only by resisting the former can we even begin to see the latter. Second, a situational theory (if it works) has empirical advantages over a theory that invokes inferred constructs, because the observable or consensual aspects of discourse and its surrounding situation can be measured and tested more directly. (Cf. Discussion, below, and Bavelas, in press.) Specifically, we began with the proposal by Watzlawick, Beavin & Jackson (1967) that the source of equivocation is a defect in the situation rather than in the individual; equivocation 'may be the only possible reaction to an absurd or untenable communication context' (p. 78). We have formalised this by adapting Lewin's (1938) goal-conflict model to communicative situations (Bavelas, 1983, 1985; Bavelas, Black, Chovil & Mullett, in press). We see messages as paths or options within a social psychological field. The messages available at a given moment have positive or negative consequences (valences), which arise from their potential impact on the social field. For example, telling a friend good news has a positive valence and is therefore a goal to be approached, whereas telling a friend bad news has a negative valence and is therefore a 'negative goal', to be avoided. These consequences, or goals, affect the choice of message; they are the characteristics of the communicative situation that shape the discourse occurring

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within it. In particular, we propose that there exist some communicative situations that create avoidance-avoidance conflicts because all direct messages lead to negative outcomes. One large set of such situations involves a conflict between a kind but false message and telling a hurtful truth (e.g. writing a thank-you note for an awful gift from a well-liked friend or relative). As Turner, Edgley & Olmstead (1975) emphasised, telling a hurtful truth to a person one cares about is a relationship lie: it conveys, falsely, that one does not mind hurting this person. Full candour about the gift in this common dilemma may be one kind of truth, but it is not the truth in the situation. On the other hand, lying may not be the answer either, because of personal values or fear of detection. Other scenarios can present communicative avoidance-avoidance conflicts of different kinds. When asked to provide a reference for a nice but incompetent person, the sender is caught between hurting that person's chances with a truthful reply or misleading the receiver with an untruthful reply. Or, when an owner is describing a car that is in bad condition but that must be sold, a truth would hurt the seller's own self-interest, whereas a false representation would hurt the potential buyer (and might rebound on the seller). In all of these conflicts, the individual turns away from one negative goal only to face the other, caught 'between a rock and a hard place', between Scylla and Charybdis. Making the message indirect or equivocal is a way of 'leaving the field' or at least avoiding the unpalatable, direct alternatives. To understand the communicative solution to this conflict, it is necessary to look more closely at the dimensions on which messages can vary. We make a distinction between what a message says, which determines whether it is true or false, and how it is said, that is, whether it is clear or equivocal (see Figure la). If false messages of any kind, as well as clear truths, have negative valences, then the only option is an equivocal truth (see Figure b). In other words, when any clear and direct response, true or false, would lead to negative consequences, and yet a reply is required, it is possible to leave the field by 'saying something without really saying it'by equivocating. In particular, we propose that people in such dilemmas will avoid both false and clear messages and tell equivocal truths instead, that is, true statements that have been 'softened' to avoid clarity. Notice the difference in impact between 'I thought you gave a poor presentation' and 'It just needed more work, why don't we talk about it over lunch?'a difference in how the bad news is delivered, not in whether it is delivered. Equivocation may blunt the impact of a message, but we do not expect it to change the denotative meaning. Like any other indirect speech act (Brown & Levinson, 1978; Grice, 1975; Nofsinger, 1974; Searle, 1975), the meaning of an equivocal message should be clear to competent speakers of the language. We obtained initial evidence for our theory by using forced-choice among experimenter-written messages (Bavelas, 1983). The results showed that, as predicted, subjects chose equivocal messages only in avoidance-avoidance conflicts and not in approachapproach conflicts or in merely unpleasant, nonconflictual situations. Also, in three experiments offering a total of 335 subjects a choice between two negative options (a hurtful truth or a false message) and an equivocation, 3.5% of subjects chose the true message, 6.2% chose the false message, and 90.2% chose the equivocation.

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Figure 1a Proposed coordinates of truthfulness and equivocation

Figure lb A conflict model of truthfulness and equivocation

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Measuring equivocation and truthfulness Testing the theory schematised in Figure lb requires independent, empirical measures of both equivocation and truthfulness. We had already developed a measure of equivocation (Bavelas & Smith, 1982), because none existed when our project began. There were several descriptive definitions in the clinical literature (where the phenomenon was called 'disqualification' or 'incongruent communication'). Most of these were taxonomic; for example, Watzlawick, Beavin & Jackson (1967) included: self-contradictions, inconsistencies, subject switches, tangentializations, incomplete sentences, misunderstandings, obscure style or mannerisms of speech, the literal interpretation of metaphor and the metaphorical interpretation of literal remarks, etc. (p. 76) None of the clinical approaches, nor the methods previously used to identify similar phenomena (e.g. Bowers, Elliott & Desmond, 1977; Wiener & Mehrabian, 1968) met our measurement criteria, which were as follows: First, we wanted a definition and measurement procedure based on a communicative principle, rather than on lists and examples. The latter are both atheoretical and necessarily incomplete: one can always find new instances. The primary property of equivocation, in our theory, is its avoidance of directness, and we wanted an operational definition based on this principle. Second, we wanted to identify equivocation by its impact on lay receivers rather than by expert judgement. For many theories, this distinction would not matter, but it is implicit in our theory that both senders and receivers use the dimension we call equivocation, so it cannot be a characteristic only experts can identify. Lay receivers must be able to discern its presence in ordinary messages. Third, we wanted to measure the degree of equivocation, rather than just its presence or absence. This would permit maximally precise tests of our theory, which predicts quite subtle shifting of messages on this dimension. The groundwork for such a measure was laid by Haley (1959), who pointed out that one of the truisms of communication is at stake here, namely, that all messages take the implicit form, 'I am saying this to you in this situation'. Messages are supposed to convey clearly who is the sender, what is the content, who is the receiver, and what is the context. The following answers are examples of such messages: Question: Was Pat a good employee? Answer: I think Pat was a good employee, and you would be wise to hire him. or Answer: I think Pat was not a good employee, and you should not hire him. If an ideal message is clear in all four respects, then departures from this ideal can be identified as equivocations. Equivocal messages render at least one of the four elements ambiguous. They are messages that, to some degree, do not give the sender's own opinion, are not clear in content, are not addressed to the appropriate receiver, or do not answer the question asked. For example,

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Answer: Well, um, that's DEPENDS on what y' call a good EMPLOYEE does not give the sender's opinion; the content is not clear; and it is not responsive to the context, that is, it does not answer the question asked. We have assumed, not that these four aspects of a message are the substantive essence of equivocation, but that they can serve as a filter for identifying equivocation in terms of what it avoids doing. As described in Bavelas & Smith (1982) and Bavelas et al. (in press), we train 8 to 12 lay judges, individually, to use a magnitude estimation scale to answer four questions (given in Figure 2) about each message. Then the scale values from the individual judgements are standardised and averaged across judges for each of the four dimensions. The resulting numbers are standard scores with intraclass reliabilities of 0.90 and above, as long as variance is uncurtailed. This procedure produces not only reliable but often quite subtle numbers representing degrees of equivocation. In this article, we will focus on the simple sum of the four dimensions, which represents the total equivocation in a message. 1.Sender To what extent is this message the speaker's own opinion? Definitely. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...Not at all 2.Content How clear is this message, in terms of just what is being said? Completely clear. . . . . . .................... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...Completely unclear 3.Receiver To what extent is this message addressed to the other person in the situation? Definitely. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...Not at all 4.Context To what extent is this a direct answer to the question just asked? Definitely. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...Not at all Figure 2 Four dimensions of equivocation We also needed a measure of the truthfulness of a message that met the same three criteria as our equivocation measure. Because, compared to equivocation, there has been much more research on lying and deception (cf. reviews by Ekman, 1985; Knapp & Comadena, 1979; Miller & Burgoon, 1981; Zuckerman, DePaulo & Rosenthal, 1981), we had hoped to find in that literature an objective measure of truth or falsity. Surprisingly, no one had developed such a measure; there was not even a clear-cut definition on which we could base a measure. The problem, as summarised by Knapp & Comadena (1979), does not arise from disagreement about the primary characteristic of a lie:

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Many of the studies of lying and deception seem to operationalize the act as: the conscious alteration of information a person believes to be true in order to significantly change another's perception from what the deceiver thought they would be without the alteration. (p. 271, italics original) The problem, rather, was that a central component of this perspective is the treatment of informationadding or subtracting from the perceived truth. But as the following review of related lines of research suggests, information treatment is not always a distinguishing factor for identifying lies and truth. (p. 271, italics added) In other words, secondary (non-informational) criteria such as motivation, awareness, and effect are also applied. For example, Knapp & Comadena pointed out that, for many deception theorists, 'where there is little or no perceived harm . . . the act may not even be considered a lie' (p. 276). Definitions qualified in this way confound what the message says with whether we would condemn it and therefore cannot function to identify lies in a reliable and objective way. (The apparent necessity to make a distinction between acceptable and unacceptable lies arises at least in part from the use of everyday terms such as 'lie' and 'deception'. These terms are saturated with moral connotations on which there is probably little consensus; for example, what is a 'white lie'? We propose that these colloquialisms should be abandoned as technical terms, to be replaced by conceptually and empirically clearer specifications, beginning with the primary and defining characteristic, which is whether the information the message conveys is true or false. Then other interesting dimensions, such as 'harmfulness', 'perceived justification', or 'intention to mislead', could be addedas long as these could be empirically defined and reliably measured. Here, though, our focus is only on the primary criterion.) Our procedure for measuring truthfulness (described in the next section) assumes a fundamental property of messages: They represent realities to receivers. A truthful message portrays reality accurately (or as the sender believes it to be). Therefore, we ask people what a given message tells them and later compare this decoded meaning to the reality the message should represent. The farther the decoded meaning is from the true state of affairs, the more false the message is. It is important to emphasise that we do not even mention the possibility of deception to these decoders. They are to treat the messages as both true and real and to tell us what they mean, because our model is one of decoding, not detection. The truth or falsity of the message is not judged directly but by a comparison of its decoded meaning with the meaning it should have, that is, with the reality it should represent. Experimental Evidence Our overall strategy has been one of varied replication with relatively small N's (Winer, 1962: 213) in which we move from highly limited to more complex situations. At each level, we have used several different scenarios to create avoidance-

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avoidance conflicts, usually repeating some earlier scenarios as well as adding new ones. In addition to the forced-choice experiments summarised above, we have asked subjects to write their own replies in conflict and control conditions (Bavelas & Chovil, 1986) and have conducted a field experiment at a political convention (Bavelas, Black, Bryson & Mullett, 1988). In both settings, the spontaneous messages of subjects in an avoidance-avoidance conflict were significantly more equivocal than the nonconflict messages. We returned to the lab for the experiments to be described here, which included spoken and face-to-face communication so that both verbal and nonverbal aspects were available to the senders. All messages were decoded for truthfulness as well as scaled for equivocation in order to test our predictions about these two aspects of messages. The first four experiments to be described here created a conflict condition and a nonconflict, control condition in imaginary scenarios. Experiments 1A and 1B opened up paralinguistic possibilities by using a telephone, which also required the subjects to reply immediately, in real time. In addition, in Experiments 2 and 3, the experimental conditions were created more indirectly; subjects were given information from which they might infer a conflict (or not). Experiments 4A and 4B elicited messages face-to-face so that visual as well as auditory nonverbal communication was possible. Finally, Experiment 5 had a third experimental condition, one designed to evoke false messages. Procedure All experiments followed the same general format. Experimenter 1 met the subject and explained that he or she would be having a (recorded) telephone or face-to-face conversation with another person in the context of an imaginary situation and was to reply briefly to the other person's question. Then Experimenter 1 explained the scenario and asked the subject to act as if it were real. After Experimenter 1 left, Experimenter 2 called (or came in) and, playing the part of the other person in the senario, asked the key question. After the subject's initial reply, which was the message of interest, the conversation continued, in role, to a natural conclusion. Then Experimenter 1 returned to explain the study and answer the subject's questions. Some comment should be made on our use of hypothetical situations. Like most deception researchers (who instruct subjects to make counter-attitudinal statements more frquently than they entrap them into false statements), we have not often used 'real' conflicts for ethical reasons. There is, however, one important distinction: Whereas the usual practice is to tell the subject what to say (e.g. that he dislikes a person he likes or that she is watching something plesant rather than unpleasant), we did not. Because the nature and form of the message are our primary interest, we simply told the subject to imagine a situation and answer a question, with no further constraint on their communication. Thus, our situations were not 'real'but the messages were. Scaling and decoding the messages The messages were scaled for equivocation by up to 10 trained, individual judges, who volunteered from English and Linguistics classes and were paid for

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their assistance. They had no information on the purpose of the experiments or the project until after they had finished. The procedures for training, scaling, and deriving equivocation values are described in Bavelas & Smith (1982) and Bavelas et al. (in press). After training, a reliability trial established intraclass R's exceeding 0.90. The reliabilities for each set of experimental messages are reported with the other results in Table 1. The messages were later independently decoded by five to eight individual paid volunteers from Linguistics and Psychology classes, who were also kept 'blind' during the study. The details are given in Bavelas et al. (in press) and are also available from the authors. In synopsis, decoders were told the question to which the messages were responding and asked to indicate the message's meaning to them by marking a point on an undivided line on a sheet of paper. The verbal labels at each end of this line were taken directly from the experimental instructions for each condition. For example, when a class presentation (Experiment 4B) was being described, 0 cm = 'well organised and well delivered' and 16 cm = 'poorly organised and badly delivered'. Decoders were asked to make minimal inferences and to put a message off the scale, on a shorter line below, if too much inference was required. The intraclass reliabilities for decoded meaning in each experiment are given in Table 1. These ratings can be used directly to describe the decoded meaning of the message, in the sense of what particular information is being conveyed; for example, a low rating indicates that the message says the class presentation was good, and a high rating indicates that the presentation was described as bad. These decoded meanings can then be transformed into truthfulness scores by taking the absolute difference beween the decoded meaning value and the true endpoint for that message. If, in the example given above, the speaker thought the presentation was poorly done, the true endpoint would be 16 cm, and a message rated at 1 cm would be very distant (15 cm) from the truth. If the speaker thought the presentation was well done, the true endpoint would be 0 cm, and a message rated at 1 cm would be very close to the truth. Experiment 1A: The Bizarre Gift (by telephone) Method Subjects The participants were 12 volunteers from Psychology classes, who were randomly assigned to the conflict or nonconflict conditions (n = 6). Scenario Experimenter 1 gave the following instructions: Imagine the person on the telephone is a friend who has sent you a gift for your birthday. You received the gift a few days ago, but you are not sure if it is meant as a joke or if it is to be taken seriously, as it is quite bizarre. (Or, in the nonconflict version: You can tell that it was carefully selected with your tastes and interests in mind.)

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Page 144 Table 1 Decoded meaning and equivocation values for experiments 1-4 Experiment Spoken 1A (Gift) 1B (Meat) 2 (Employee) 3 (Car Ad)

n Condition

Equivocation Valuesa Sender Content Receiver

Context

6 Nonconflict 6 Conflict (reliability) 6 Nonconflict 6 Conflict (reliability) 6 Nonconflict 6 Conflict (reliability) 6 Nonconflict 6 Conflict (reliability)

-0.46* 0.46 (0.92) -0.23 0.23 (0.90) 0.01 -0.01 (0.94) -0.12 0.12 (0.41)c

-0.67** -1.93** 0.67 1.93 (0.97) -0.65** -1.86** 0.65 1.86 (0.97) -0.54* -0.47 0.54 0.47 (0.98) -0.77** -1.46** 0.77 1.47 (0.96)

-0.38* 0.37 (0.92) -0.71 0.71** (0.99) -0.15 0.15 (0.96) -0.57** 0.58 (0.95)

-0.44* 0.44 (0.94) -0.27 0.27 (0.91) 0.20 -0.21 (0.97) 0.00 0.00 (0.85)

Sum

Decoded Meaningb Distance in cm 4.7** 11.6 (0.95) 5.3** 9.8 (0.92) 6.0** 11.7 (0.91) 4.7** 12.3 (0.95)

Visual 4A (Car Ad)

6 Nonconflict -0.23 -0.37* 0.29 -0.53* -0.84* 4.9** 6 Conflict 0.26 0.39 -0.29 0.53 0.90 11.8 (reliability) (0.88) (0.79)c (0.96) (0.96) (0.96) 4B 6 Nonconflict -0.55** -0.49** -0.51** -0.77** -2.31** 3.3** (Class) 6 Conflict 0.55 0.49 0.49 0.78 2.30 11.8 (reliability) (0.90) (0.91) (0.83) (0.98) (0.96) a Equivocation values are standard scores, so that positive numbers indicate above-average equivocation and negative numbers indicate relative clarity. (Note also that the conflict and nonconflict means tend to mirror each other, within rounding errors, because any bisection of a set of standard scores yields two means that add to zero.) b The 'true' end of the scale for the nonconflict condition was 0 cm: for the conflict condition, the true end was 16 cm. c The low reliability was due to curtailment of range. * Differences between conditions are significant at p <0.05 (one-tailed). ** Differences between conditions are significant atp <0.01 (one-tailed).

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Experimenter 1 explained that this friend would be calling and left the room. When the subject picked up the phone and said 'Hello', Experimenter 2 said, enthusiastically, Hi, this is [first name]. Sorry I didn't get a chance to see you on your birthday. I was just wondering, how did you like the gift I sent you? The conflict was between the two negative goals of treating the gift as serious when it was a joke and treating it as a joke when it was serious, either of which might be offensive. Results The values for equivocation and decoded meaning are given in Table 1. (The end points for the decoders were 0 cm = 'carefully selected with the speaker's tastes and interests in mind' and 16 cm = 'the gift is quite bizarre, so the speaker isn't clear if it's meant as a joke or to be taken seriously'.) The conflict and nonconflict conditions differed significantly on all four dimensions of equivocation, their sum, and the decoded meaning. Thus, the conflict messages were more equivocal than the nonconflict messages, but they did not represent the gift as welcome and well suited. An example of an equivocal (but not false) message was (Sounding puzzled:)Ah? . . . (Slight laugh, which slurs into the first word:)It's quite INTRUIGING. This message can 'go either way', in that it is suitable for either a serious or a joking gift. Notice that the paralinguistic components are as ambiguous as the verbal content. The means of the two conditions can also be presented in a form that connects them directly to our overall theory, using the two coordinates of truthfulness and equivocation that were set out in Figure 1, above. A truthfulness value is obtained by converting the decoded meaning in to a distance from the truth, as described earlier. That is, the mean for the conflict condition is subtracted from the right-hand endpoint (16 cm) and the mean for the nonconflict condition is subtracted from the left-hand endpoint (0 cm), ignoring the sign. The mean equivocation value used is the sum across the four dimensions; these are standard scores in which positive values indicate above-average equivocation and negative values reflect clarity. The position, on both coordinates, of the means of the two conditions in this experiment is represented in Figure 3, which shows the conflict and nonconflict conditions in their predicted quadrants. Experiment 1B: The Meat Sale (by telephone) This was a back-to-back' experiment with 1A, in that the same subjects participated immediately after finishing the procedure described above, but with experimental condition reversed. Participants who had been randomly assigned to the conflict condition in 1A were in the nonconflict condition in 1B, and vice versa. This was done to test our theory that the situation (not the individual) creates equivocation; we expected participants to change the clarity of their communication when an avoidanceavoidance confict was introduced or removed.

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Figure 3 Truthfulness and equivocation in experiments IA to 4B Method Scenario Experimenter 1 returned and explained that the next procedure would be the same except that the situation had changed: You work in a grocery store, and you know that Tuesday is the day they sell off all the old meat at a reduced price. Some of it is very old and poor quality. (Or, in the nonconflict version: Tuesday is the day that they sell the meat at a reduced price, just to make sure it doesn't accumulate. It is all fresh and good quality meat.) On this particular Tuesday, the telehone rings. You answer it, and it is someone who saw the sale of meat at a reduced price advertised in the newspaper. They have never shopped at your store, so they have called to get some information before coming to the store. When the participant answered the phone, a different Experimenter 2 (than in 1A) said: Hello, I've never been to your store before, and I was wonderingthe meat that is on sale today, Is it good? The conflict was between being untruthful to the customer and being truthful at the cost of losing business (and perhaps a job).

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Results As predicted, there were significant differences between conditions in both equivocation and decoded meaning: see Table 1. Subjects who had given clear and articulate replies in the nonconflict condition in Experiment 1A now produced messages such as (Sounding rattled:)UMM . . . AH-no-- the REASON why they're selling it is because it's, um . . . it's a 1-little bit OLD. This message does not misrepresent the quality of the meat; to the question 'Is it good?' the speaker replies 'no'. Instead, it minimises or 'softens' the truth by equivocation in both words and delivery. It avoids misleading the customer but also avoids putting the store in a bad light. The means for the two conditions are also entered on the two coordinates of equivocation and truthfulness in Figure 3. Experiment 2: The Employee Reference (by telephone) In most of our previous experiments, such as 1A and 1B, we had created the conflict and nonconflict conditions by simply telling subjects that the meat was good or bad, the gift was suitable or bizarre, etc. The purpose of the next two experiments was to give subjects 'raw data' from which they would have to form their own opinions and infer a conflict (or not). Here, we gave them detailed information on an 'Employee Appraisal Form', containing several evaluations of an employee in each of six different areas of performance. In the conflict condition, the ratings were in the categories 'borderline' or 'poor' in virtually all areas, while in the nonconflict condition they were all 'excellent' or 'good'. (The same Appraisal Forms were used as defining endpoints for the decoders, in place of verbal labels.) Method Subjects Thirteen volunteers from Psychology classes participated; data from one were replaced because of failure to understand the instructions, leaving the planned n of 6 per condition. Scenario Experimenter 1 gave the following instructions: You work for the government as a personnel officer, and every three months you receive employee evaluations. This month, an evaluation on Pat Green (a friend of yours) was sent over to you. Pat has applied for another position in the government. In a few minutes, you will receive a phone call from another friend regarding this application. So in this situation, both Pat and the person calling you are good friends of yours. Any questions?

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Then the subject was given one of the (randomly assigned) version of the form. When the subject had read the material, Experimenter 1 told him or her to expect a phone call and left the room. Experimenter 2 called and said, Hi, is this [subject's first name]? This is [own first name]. I'm calling because Pat Green has applied for a job here and used your name as a reference. Is Pat a good employee? Results As shown in Table 1, the overall effect was weak, but there were the predicted differences on one dimension of equivocation and the decoded meanings. A typical conflict condition message was (As if forcing himself to speak:) Ah. . .He's a. . . FAIRLY good employee. 'Fairly good' is an elastic descriptor, especially with the paralinguistic emphasis on 'fairly'. The speaker does not say Pat is a good employee (which would betray the friend thinking of hiring Pat), nor does he say clearly that Pat should not be hired (which would betray Pat). Instead, he says ambiguously that Pat is not top material. (The message given at the beginning of this article is another from the conflict condition in this experiment.) The condition means for equivocation and distance-from-thetruth are entered in Figure 3. Experiment 3: Car for Sale (by telephone) In this experiment, we gave participants detailed information about a car they were selling. The information included a photograph and a 55-item mechanical checklist about its condition. In the conflict condition, the photo showed an old car with considerable body damage, and the checklist revealed numerous major problems. The nonconflict photo showed a much newer car with a good appearance, and the checklist showed only two minor problems. (The decoders were given the two checklists for the endpoints of their scale but not the photo, year, or make of car, because this would have identified the car, and therefore condition, in some of the messages.) Method Subjects Thirteen volunteers from Psychology classes participated; data from one participant were replaced because of failure to understand the instructions, leaving the planned n of 6 per condition. Scenario After the usual introduction and explanation, Experimenter 1 said, You have a car that you're trying to sell because you need the money. I'm going to give you a picture of the car and a mechanical checklist of its condition that I'd like you to read over. After the subject had studied a (randomly assigned) version of the information, Experimenter 1 continued:

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Your brother has told a friend of his that you are selling your car. This friend will be calling you in a few minutes and will ask you a question which we'd like you to respond to . . . Experimenter 2 then called, Hello, is this [subject's first name]? Your brother told me you have a car for sale. What kind of shape is the car in? The conflict is between saying the car is in bad shape, thereby reducing the chances of selling it, and saying it is in good shape, which would be dishonest and might rebound because of the indirect relationship via the brother. Results The two conditions differed significantly on two dimensions of equivocation, the sum, and decoded meaning (see Table 1). As in Experiment 2, the subjects had inferred a conflict from the material given and spontaneously produced equivocal but true messages. One of our favourite equivocal messages was particularly vacuous: (With some authority:)Well- it NEEDS-- ah, a little bit of MINOR repairs-- ah. Basically it RUNS, ah-- I-- that's what I USE it for. . . So, ah, otherwise it's-it needs a FEW minor repairs you know, I-- . . . it's not in PERFECT condition. Figure 3 contains the means of the two conditions in terms of the two coordinates. Experiment 4A: Car for Sale (face-to-face) The previous experiment was replicated with the participant and experimenter videotaped while talking in person, in order to establish generalisability to communication with all verbal and nonverbal aspects. Also, two different experimenters played the role of the friend; they were randomly assigned and blind to condition. Method Subjects Seventeen volunteers from Psychology classes participated. Data from five participants were replaced, using the same random assignment (one because of experimenter error and the others because of 'subject error' in either 4A or 4B, e.g. starting to talk before Experimenter 2 had asked the question); this left the planned N of 12. Scenario After an explanation about the videotaping, Experimenter 1 presented the same situation as in Experiment 3, except that the brother's friend was going to come in person rather than calling.

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Results The two conditions differed significantly on two equivocation dimensions, the sum, and decoded meaning (see Table 1). There was no effect of Experimenter 2 or any interaction of experimenter with condition. The most equivocal message was (Looking at the other person with glances to the side; somewhat concerned facial expression; head nodding and moving increasingly; in an apologetic, reassuring tone:) WELL-- WHEN you SEE it, you'll SEE that it -- the BODY needs-- . . . um, a lot-of-- . . . a LITTLE work. But if you're HANDY, or you know someone that's handy, you know . . . wash up, paint job 'n? . . . (Quietly, then sounding pleased:) You'd probably LIKE it, IF IT'S what you're looking for. ('Posed' smile at end.) The data for this experiment are also represented in Figure 3. Experiment 4B: The Class Presentation (face-to-face) This was another 'back-to-back' experiment in which experimental condition was reversed for the second scenario. Participants who had been randomly assigned to the nonconflict condition in 4A were now in the conflict condition, and vice versa. Method Scenario After the conversation about the car finished naturally, Experimenter 2 left and Experimenter 1 returned to describe a new scenario in which the person who was going to come in was a fellow student: The two of you have a class that meets three times a week for the entire year. Each student has to make an individual presentation to the class. Today this other student gave her presentation. You had helped her by supplying reference material. Unfortunately, her presentation was poorly organised and badly delivered. (Or, in the nonconflict condition: Her presentation was well organised and well delivered.) The class ended late, and you didn't get a chance to talk, so the other student is going to drop by now. Then the other Experimenter 2 came in and said, Hi! I didn't get a chance to talk to you after class, and I just wanted to ask, how did I do on my presentation? This is a classic conflict between a hurtful truth and a kind falsehood. Results The two conditions differed significantly on all four dimensions of equivocation, their sum, and rated meaning; see Table 1. No experimenter effects or interactions were significant. A sample message from the conflict condition is

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(Sighs; then in descending pitch:)AAAHN . . . 'tsk' . . . (Sighs.) . . . (Very long pause; then smiles and sighs again; very long pause; then looks at the other person and in a warm but reluctant tone:)I-I NOTICED that-ah that it wasn't-ah, THAT well RECEIVED. . .. (Then, very softly:)And-it-ah-- it-- (then, sounding curious, almost questioning:)S-SOME of the REFERENCES I GAVE you, you DIDN'T-- you didn't seem to have looked UP. Besides its obviously reluctant start, there are several subtleties in this message. The speaker reports she only 'noticed how it was received', which puts distance between herself and the evaluation. The evaluation itself is phrased as 'not that well received', an inverted description that relies on the receiver's inference. Finally, the speaker shifts to the side topic of the references she had provided, which also provides a possible excuse for the quality of the presentation. These are the final data points in Figure 3, which shows a consistent pattern of equivocal truths in the conflict condition, as predicted by our theory. Using the same method, we also obtained truthfulness values for the messages from three of our written-message experiments, which had previously been scaled only for equivocation (Bavelas & Chovil, 1986); see Figure 4, which provides further evidence for the predicted pattern.

Figure 4 Truthfulness and equivocation in written experiments (re-analysis of Bavelas & Chovil, 1986)

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Possible Alternative Explanations Nonverbal leakage In a classic article, Ekman & Friesen (1969) proposed that verbal lies may be accompanied by nonverbal leakage, that is, by nonverbal indications of the speaker's true opinion, or by deception clues, which are indications that the speaker is lying but without any indication of his or her true opinion. We are concerned here with the first class, nonverbal leakage of the information being concealed. It could be quite plausibly argued that what we are calling equivocal messages are simply verbal lies plus nonverbal leakage. The result would be a message that would be scaled as equivocal (because of the verbal-nonverbal contradiction) but from which decoders might be able to infer the truth, primarily from nonverbal information. If this were so, then the above evidence for our theory would have an alternative explanation. One advantage of having an independent measure of truthfulness is that such an hypothesis can be tested empirically. We did so (using the data from one of the face-to-face experiments, 4B, the Class Presentation) by varying the availability of nonverbal information to those who decoded the meaning of the message. We created seven different versions of the messages from 4B, ranging from purely verbal to purely nonverbal, to be decoded by seven different groups. If the subjects had lied verbally, the decoding of the verbal versions should reveal this (that is, the decoders should infer a message that is not true). If leakage occurred, there should also be a systematic change in decoding meaning over the seven versions, with the ratings moving toward the true meaning as nonverbal information was added. Method Decoders Thirty-six decoders from Psychology and Linguistics classes were paid for their participation and randomly assigned to the seven different versions. One was replaced because she forgot to rate one message, leaving the planned n of 5 per condition. Versions The seven sets of messages formed a continuum defined by the availability of nonverbal information: (1) Verbal, Edited. All messages were transcribed, and then paralinguistic disfluencies were edited out. The resulting messages had complete sentences and no hesitations or stammering. (2) Verbal, Transcribed. The messages were transcribed literally, including paralinguistic aspects. (3) Audio without Latency. The video message was copied onto audiotape. Because hesitancy before answering has been described as a major paralinguistic clue that deception is occurring, response latency was removed in this version by removing the preceding question. (4) Audio with Latency. Same as above, but the latency was included.

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(5) Video without Latency. The videotape of the message was used but with the latency removed as above. (6) Video with Latency. The videotape of the actual message was presented. (This was the version for which rating data were presented in Table 1.) (7) Video without Sound. Only visual nonverbal information was available, with no verbal content. Results One message (in the conflict condition) was deleted from further analysis because the majority of decoders found it uninterpretable regardless of the version in which they read, heard, or saw it. For the rated messages, the reliabilities of the first six versions ranged from 0.86 to 0.98. The reliability of the Video without Sound version was 0.33; no systematic meaning could be decoded from purely visual information, so this version was excluded from further analysis. If the equivocal messages obtained in Experiment 4B are really 'leaky lies', then the decoded meaning would change as more nonverbal information was added. This hypotheses was tested by ANOVA contrasts (on the Conflict condition messages only) in the form of a monotonic decline; F(1,24) = 0.001, p = n.s. Our own prediction that both the conflict and nonconflict condition messages are truthful was tested as a main effect of condition. This analysis revealed a strong effect of experimental condition F(1,24) = 612.26, p <0.001; eta squared = 0.91), no effect of version, and no interaction. The messages were true in every version, verbally and nonverbally. Lies of omission The message that was put off the scale in the above ratings draws attention to the possibility that equivocations might really be lies of omission (cf. Miller, 1983). As the reader would expect, we are not comfortable with that term, because it is both prejorative and an oxymoron, and will translate it into an empirical description here: It is possible that, while the equivocating speaker does not misrepresent information, he or she responds with irrelevant information, thereby avoiding the unpleasant information altogether. Again, this is a question that can be answered by our decoding method. The decoders had been instructed to put messages off the scale if they could not find the relevant information in them. Therefore, the number of times a message was put off the scale can be used to identify possible lies of omission. The 4B message that was put off the scale by the majority of decoders was, in answer to the question, 'How did I do on my presentation?' (Looking at the other person, with head very tilted; raises and lowers head in a patronizing way while answering in a pleasant but brittle, 'teacher' tone:) Well HOW do you THINK you DID? The total number of such decisions was extremely low. For Experiments 1A to 4A, the eight decoders and 60 messages produced a total of 480 decisions. Only 11 times (2.3%) was the decision to place a message off the scale, and one decoder accounted for almost half of these decisions. Using the message as the unit of

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analysis, in no case did more than two of the eight decoders find the same message unrateable. The five decoders who saw the full version (Video with Latency) of the 12 messages from Experiment 4B made 60 decisions, of which four were to put the message off the scale. In three instances, this was the message given above, which answered a question with a question; the majority found this message unrateable. Thus, of the 36 conflict-condition messages in these six scenarios, only one did not give the information asked for. Equivocations are not characterised by avoiding the relevant information; what is said is both true and responsive. Instead, they alter a different characteristic of the information, namely, how this information is conveyed. Experiment 5: The Local Musical (face-to-face) The purpose of this final experiment was to elicit false messages, primarily so that we could validate our measures by requiring them to distinguish between false and true messages. We were also interested in checking for nonverbal leakage in both false and equivocal messages, using different versions of an originally videotaped message, as described above. We chose a 'surprise party' scenario as one in which people are likely to produce false messages spontaneously. The truth spoils the surprise whereas a false message preserves the surprise and even adds to the fun when later revealed. In other words, this is a nonconflict situation in which a false message becomes a positive goal. By appropriate variations in the situation, we created our usual conflict and nonconflict conditions as well; the latter will now be called the nonconflict-true condition, to distinguish it from the new, nonconflict-false condition. In addition to the three experimental conditions, there were seven decoding conditions (the same versions as were used for Experiment 4B, above). We predicted that decoding and scaling of the resulting messages should reveal three groups: false messages, equivocal truths, and clear truths, regardless of what verbal of nonverbal information was available for decoders. Method Subjects Twenty-two (paid) participants were recruited by posters around campus. Data from four were replaced because two did not understand the instructions and two were truthful in the nonconflict-false condition. (The latter two were excluded because we were more interested in how people would lie than in whether they would lie.) This left the planned N of 18, with 6 people randomly assigned to each condition. In addition, 35 students from Linguistics and Psychology classes were paid to decode the messages; they were randomly assigned to the seven different versions (n = 5). Six trained judges were paid to scale the messages for equivocation. Scenario After the usual introduction, the experimenter gave the key information which, for the nonconflict-false condition, was

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You saw a local performance of the musical, 'Cats', and you really enjoyed itthe singing, the dancing, the whole production was just great. Your favourite cousin's birthday is on Saturday, and you decided this would make a great surprise party. So you got all of his friends to go along, you bought a whole block of tickets, and everyone is excited about the surprise. That is the situation. Now I'm going to leave the room, and someone else will come in. Imagine that the person who is entering the room is the cousin you are having the surprise party for. He is on his way to pick up a ticket to the Friday performance (which is the day before you bought the tickets for), and he wants to ask you how you liked it. When Experimenter 2 entered, he said, Hi, [subject's first name], I'm on my way downtown to get a ticket for 'Cats'. How did you like the performance? In the nonconflict-true condition, there was no birthday party for the cousin. Instead, after the production was described as great, Experimenter 1 said, Your favorite cousin is dating the director but hasn't seen it yet. That is the situation. Now I'm going to leave the room and someone else will come in. Imagine that the person who is entering the room is the cousin who is dating the director. He is on his way to get a ticket to the Friday performance, and he wants to ask you how you liked it. The conflict condition was the same as the nonconflict-true condition, except that the participant was told . . . you really hated itthe singing, the dancing, the whole production was just awful. Your favourite cousin is dating the director but hasn't seen it yet. . . As usual, what Experimenter 2 said and asked was the same in all conditions; the difference was the situational information given by Experimenter 1. Thus the subjects had to respond spontaneously to a situation in which a false message was appropriate, or a true message was appropriate, or where both true and false messages were problematic. There was no mention of lying (or being truthful or equivocal). Results The messages were scaled for equivocation (in their actual version only) over two sessions, with half of the messages from each condition in each session (intraclass R's, calculated for each session, for the four dimensions were 0.97/0.93, 0.74/0.90, 0.76/0.89, and 0.96/0.98). Our prediction that the messages in the conflict condition would be more equivocal than those in the nonconflict-true and nonconflict-false conditions was tested on the sum of the four dimensions by contrasts (+2, -1, -1); F(1,15)= 16.51, p <0.0001. The same result was obtained for the four separate dimensions, with p's = 0.055 or less. (It was also true that, using bivariate comparisons, the nonconflict-false messages were in the middle of

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the scale on two dimensions, significantly more equivocal than the nonconflict-true messages.) The reliabilities for decoded meaning in the first six versions ranged from 0.97 to 0.99; the Video without Sound version had a reliability of 0.88, so it was included in the analysis. Messages were put off the scale between zero and nine times in each set of 90 ratings (5 judges x 18 messages). This included one message, in the nonconflict-false condtion, that was excluded from analysis in three versions because it was put off the scale by a majority three out of five decoders. This message was (Pursing lips in an exaggerated manner and moving head side to side; in a rising pitch, almost a question:)MMMH. (Starts smiling and looks at the other person; then in a rapid staccato:) I don't KNOW. (Even more rapidly:)I thought it PROBABLY wasn't worth GOING to. The decoded meanings were transformed to distances-from-the-truth in the usual way, and the results are summarised on the truthfulness and equivocation coordinates in Figure 5. The three condition means fell in three different quadrants, as predicted. Some examples will illustrate the kinds of messages we obtained. One in the nonconflict-true condition was (Mostly looking at the other person and either smiling or looking ready to smile most of the time. Shakes head to emphasise every word; her gestures flow from

Figure 5 Truthfulness and equivocation in Experiment 5

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one into the next, and they too 'beat' in time with her speech, which is intense and enthusiastic:)Ah! FAN-TASTIC (flings fingers towards the other person) ... singing, dancing (moves hand back and forth like a conductor)just GREAT (moves fingers smoothly towards the other person; then in a tone almost overcome with emotion:)Just-- RIGHT ON! (shakes closed fist). A message from the nonconflict-false condition was (Begins by looking up to one side, then closes her eyes and swings her head down to the other side, with a very broad grimace; speaks very fast and confidently throughout:) Well I'll TELL you you know (now looking directly at the other person, but with face still turned aside; smiling slightly:) I didn't THINK it was THAT GOOD (nods very slightly in emphasis; then mouth turns down but expression is not unpleasant:) I mean I-- (looks upwards then back at the other person:) I thought it was really OVERRATED. (Then, as if debating what to advise:) AHM . . . PROBABLY? . . . (Turning head away with exaggerated scowl:) I WOULDN'T BOTHER GOING-- if I were YOU. It was typical of the messages in this condition that they conveyed a credibly reluctant negative evaluation coupled with an apparently off-hand recommendation not to attend. (We think that this tactic accounts for their somewhat higher equivocation values.) An example of a message in the conflict condition was (Eyes roll up, shift, then almost close; starts confidently, then stops abruptly:)WELL, I-- . . . (looks at the other person, while nodding and smiling, in a somewhat reluctant tone:)IT was pretty GOOD overall. (Looks away then back; slight sneer; almost as if confiding a secret:)AHHH, there's a FEW things-- a few ROUGH edges that need-- . . . HONING UP. (Then, while looking down, said as if stalling:)AHHHM . . . I would SAY that-ah, (then, looking back, nodding frequently; speeds up and sounds more confident:)IT'LL probably get BETTER with TIME, in FACT YOU'LL probably . . . ah . . . (looks away)YOU'LL probably go to a BETTER SHOWING than I did (smiles). (Shrugs; then smiling more, sounding reassuring and still confident:)I was DISAPPOINTED, but that doesn't MEAN that, you know, that YOU'LL be left out in the COLD. Finally, the truthfulness values are plotted by rating condition in Figure 6. A leakage model must predict that the nonconflictfalse messages would drop from false towards true as nonverbal information was added. This hypothesis was tested and rejected by applying a set of ANOVA contrasts to this condition that described a monotonic decline over the seven versions; F(1,32) = 1.17, p = n.s. Thus there was no effect of the availability of nonverbal information in the nonconflict-false condition. (Indeed, the decoders decoded a false meaning even in the Video without Sound version, whereas in the other two conditions the averages for this version went to the center of the scale, i.e. had no systematic meaning.) Our prediction that there would be a strong effect of goal-condition, regardless of rating version, was tested by the appropriate contrasts (-1, -1, +2); F(1,102) = 393.52, p <0.0001, accounting for 79% of the variance.

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Figure 6 Experiment 5: Mean truthfulness ratings Discussion At the outset, we explicitly advocated a shift away from hypothesised mental processes to a more public view of discourse. The data presented here suggest that a careful focus on both the properties of messages and their evoking situations can reveal precise and clear-cut relationships between the two. It is possible to identify a class of messages that are true and equivocal and to manipulate situations to evoke such messages. We should point out several differences between our approach and traditional 'behaviourism'. First, we acknowledge that mental processes exist and that they are interesting and valuable to study; we merely choose to study other processes, equally interesting to us. Second, and perhaps ironically, our approach is more behaviourally oriented than traditional behaviourism. Most behaviourist theories have been content to find behavioural labels for internal processes (e.g. 'hours of deprivation' as a euphemism for 'hunger' or 'motivation'). We are searching for processes entirely outside, on the assumption that discourse is observable to its participants and so must be understandable to us at this level as well. Third, we have no simple and sovereign theory comparable to the behaviourist's use of

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stimulus-response-reinforcement links. Moreover, we consider such an approach to language (e.g. Skinner, 1957) to be particularly inappropriate because it hides rather than reveals the subtlety and complexity of discourse processes. In contrast, we are letting discourse tell us how complex it is. We have identified here a class of situations that systematically evoke an interesting kind of communication, that is, avoidance-avoidance conflicts which give rise to equivocation. Rather than explaining all communication, we have limited ourselves to enfranchising a kind of communication too easily dismissed. Equivocation may be 'poor' communication by some standards, but it is a precise and effective solution when its full context is examined. We question the monolithic virtue of clear, direct communication on the grounds that it only makes sense when situations are equally clear and direct. In many other situations, equivocation is a good solution to a bad situation. If we have a general credo, it is this: people interact socially mostly by communication, and communication (verbal and nonverbal) is both precise and highly dependent on the social situation. Fortunately, the precision of discourse and its situational causes can be studied empirically. Indeed, our experience is that social phenomena become much clearer when examined as discourse in a specific social context. Acknowledgements Order of authors is alphabetical. We would like to acknowledge the generous, long-term support of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and the University of Victoria. Lisa Bryson, John Conners, and Rhonda Sedger conducted some of the experiments or scaling sessions; Anna Butterworth, Diane Rotter, and Maureen Stephenson assisted in preparation of data. Requests for reprints or procedural details should be sent to J. B. Bavelas, Department of Psychology, University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, V8W 2Y2 (Canada). References Austin, J. L. (1962) How to Do Things with Words. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bavelas, J. B. (1983) Situations that lead to disqualification. Human Communication Research 9, 130-45. (1985) A situational theory of disqualification: Using language to 'leave the field'. In J. P. Forgas (ed.) Language and Social Situtions. New York: Springer-Verlag. (in press) Some problems with linking goals to discourse. In K. Tracy (ed.) Understanding Face-to-Face Interaction: Issues Linking Goals and Discourse: Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Bavelas, J. B., Black, A., Bryson, L. and Mullett, J. (1988) Political equivocation: A situational theory. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 7, 137-45. Bavelas, J. B., Black, A., Chovil, N. and Mullett, J. (in press) Equivocal Communication. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Bavelas, J. B. and Chovil, N. (1986) How people disqualify: Experimental studies of spontaneous written disqualification. Communication Monographs 53, 70-4. Bavelas, J. B. and Smith, B. (1982) A method for scaling verbal disqualification. Human Communication Research 8, 214-27.

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Bowers, J. W., Elliott, N. D. and Desmond, R. J. (1977) Exploiting pragmatic rules: Devious messages. Human Communication Research 3, 235-42. Brown, P. and Levinson, S. (1978) Universals in language usage. In E. N. Goody (ed.) Questions and Politeness: Strategies in Social Interaction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ekman, P. (1985) Telling Lies. New York: Berkley Books. Ekman, P. and Friesen, W. V. (1969) Nonverbal leakage and clues to deception. Psychiatry 32, 88-106. Forgas, J. P. (ed.) (1985) Language and Social Situations. New York: Springer-Verlag. Garfinkel, H. (1967) Studies in Ethnomethodology. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Goffman, E. (1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Doubleday Anchor Books. Grice, H. P. (1975) Logic and conversations. In P. Cole and J. L. Morgan (eds) Syntax and Semantics Vol. 3. New York: Academic Press. Haley, J. (1959) An interactional description of schizophrenia. Psychiatry 22, 321-32. Hymes, D. (1974a) Models of the interaction between language and social life. In J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes (eds) Directions in Sociolinguistics: The Ethnography of Communication. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Hymes, D. (1974b) Foundations of Sociolinguistics: An Ethnographic Approach. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Knapp, M. L. and Comadena, M. E. (1979). Telling it like it isn't: A review of theory and research on deceptive communications. Human Communication Research 5, 270-85. Lewin, K. (1935) A Dynamic Theory of Personality. Selected Papers (D. K. Adams and K. E. Zener, trans.) New York: McGraw-Hill. (1938) The conceptual representation and the measurement of psychological forces. Contributions to Psychological Theory 1, (4, Serial No. 4). Miller, G. R. (1983) Telling it like it isn't and not telling it like it is: Some thoughts on deceptive communication. In J. Sisco (ed.) The Jensen Lectures: Contemporary Communication Studies (pp. 91-116). Tampa: University of South Florida Press. Miller, G. R. and Burgoon, J. K. (1981) Factors affecting assessments of witness credibility. In H. L. Kerr and R. J. Bray (eds) The Psychology of the Courtroom. New York: Academic Press. Nofsinger, R. E., Jr (1974) On answering questions indirectly: Some rules in the grammar of doing conversation. Human Communication Research 21, 172-81. Pike, K. L. (1966) Etic and emic standpoints for the description of behavior. In Language in Relation to a Unified Theory of the Structure of Human Behavior (Chap. 2). The Hague: Mouton. Robinson, W. P. (1984) Social Psychology and Discourse. In T. A. Van Dijk (ed.) Handbook of Discourse Analysis Vol. 1. New York: Academic Press. Sacks, H. (1984) Notes on methodology. In J. Atkinson and J. Heritage (eds) Structures of Social Action: Studies in Conversational Analysis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sapir, E. (1949a) The emergence of the concept of personality in a study of cultures. In D. Mandlebaum (ed.) The Selected Writings of Edward Sapir. Los Angeles: University of California Press. (1949b) Why cultural anthropology needs the psychiatrist. In D. Mandlebaum (ed.) The Selected Writings of Edward Sapir. Los Angeles: University of California Press. Searle, J. R. (1975) Indirect speech acts. In P. Cole and J. L. Morgan (eds) Syntax and Semantics Vol. 3. New York: Academic Press. Skinner, B. F. (1957) Verbal Behavior. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. Tolman, E. C. (1932) Purposive Behavior in Animals and Men. New York: Century. Turner, R. E., Edgley, C. and Olmstead, G. (1975) Information control in conversations: Honesty is not always the best policy. Kansas Journal of Sociology 11, 69-89. Watzlawick, P., Beavin, J. and Jackson, D. D. (1967) Pragmatics of Human Communication. New York: Norton.

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Wiener, M. and Mehrabian, A. (1968) Language Within Language: Immediacy, a Channel in Verbal Communication. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. Winer, B. J. (1962) Statistical Principles in Experimental Design (1st edn). New York: McGraw-Hill. Zuckerman, M., DePaulo, B. M. and Rosenthal, R. (1981) Verbal and nonverbal communication of deception. In L. Berkowitz (ed.) Advances in Experimental Social Psychology (pp. 1-59). New York: Academic Press.

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Multiple Goals in Discourse: An Epilogue Robert T. Craig Rhetoric and Communication, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA 19122, USA In discourse studies the term goal is used in various different ways and not always, it would seem, with full awareness of distinctions implied in other usages. An earlier essay (Craig, 1986) highlighted several such distinctions. First, intentional goals are states of affairs that speakers consciously intend (with varying degrees of explicitness and specificity) to bring about through their discourse; but functional goals are cognitive structures (intentionality not presumed) inferred by an observer in order to account for input-output regularities in a speaker's behaviour. Second, positive goals are directly involved in the causal production of behaviour; but dialectical goals emerge at a conceptual or discursive level and may be only loosely or retrospectively connected to particular actions. Third, strategic goals are contingent outcomes of plans of action; but formal goals are intrinsic to conventional, rule-governed episodes to which they stand at 'official' purposes or end-states. These distinctions, which can be taken to represent alternative conceptualisations of goal, have implications for methodology as well as for the analysis of such theoretical problems as goal indeterminacy and multiple goals (Craig, 1986). Although the term, goal, has thus been used by researchers in various ways, the ordinary notion of a person having a goal pretty clearly falls to one side on each of the three distinctions mentioned in the previous paragraph. Prototypical goals are intentional, positive, and strategic. The prototypical person with a goal is one who strategically selects discursive means in order to achieve a consciously intended outcome. All other goal-concepts are at best 'quasi-goals' in relation to this prototypical sense of the term. Strip away intentionality from goals and you get functions of discourse that can be analysed empirically without reference to a speaker's mental states; discard the assumption that goals play a causal role in producing discourse and get goal-talk or formulations that, unlike goals or functions, are explicitly present within discourse itself; give up the contingent relation of goals to outcomes and you get conventional purposes that can be brought to light in ethnographic studies of speech events. But why redefine goals in any of these ways? Why study mere quasi-goals instead of regular, prototypical goals? Two good reasons are readily at hand.

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First, the ordinary concept of goal, however intuitively compelling and unavoidably present in the commonsense discourse about discourse, presents severe methodological problems that can be mitigated by substituting a quasi-goal concept. Prototypical goals exist in people's minds, but we have no direct access to other people's minds. Twentieth century philosophy has cultivated well-reasoned doubt as to whether people actually have minds in the traditional, Cartesian sense of absolute subjectivity. How can we know our own goals (if indeed we have goals) except through learning functional relationships, through discourse, through participation in the language games of our speech communities? Disputes concerning the goals of speakers, even concerning one's own goals, are therefore of dubious philosophical status and anyway impossible to adjudicate upon scientifically. Functional analysis, discourse analysis, and ethnographic analysis are scientifically disciplined methods that objectify goals (as quasi-goals), thus removing them from the shadowy, mentalistic realm where they can be known only hypothetically or introspectively. There is, moreover, a second good reason for studying functions, formulations, or conventional purposes instead of goals. Even from a commonsense standpoint, people do not always have goals, or in any case their discourse may be better explained in relation to quasi-goals. The prototypical image of the speaker strategically pursuing consciously intended outcomes surely applies to some speakers on some occasions. Although every normal awake person must always presumably be in some intentional state in regard to his or her voluntary actions, it must be acknowledged that people often speak rather mindlessly or with little awareness of the cognitive processes that produce their utterances; that discourse often functions in ways that speakers do not consciously intend; that people's prospective and retrospective descriptions of their own actions are often problematically related to those same actions as they can be observed to emerge discursively on the occasion of their production; that speech events do have conventional purposes toward which participants orient their actions. If speakers are only sometimes goaloriented in the prototypical sense, then it is quite misleading to talk about discourse as if speakers were always pursuing goals. Such theoretical objections, in combination with a methodological dispreference for mentalistic concepts, might be thought ample warrant for banishing prototypical goals from discourse studies. But they have not been banished, or at any rate not successfully. Often they have reasserted themselves insidiously by means of equivocation, even in studies that explicitly acknowledge their problematic character. Equivocation is evident in my own previous essay (Craig, 1986) in which, having carefully distinguished several inconsistent uses of the term, goal, and having shown how other writers mindlessly equivocated over them, I seemingly forgot those distinctions entirely in the course of explicating four lines of argument that can be used to draw inferences about a speaker's 'goals' - meaning, I'm afraid, undeniably though implicitly, the speaker's prototypical goals. Each of the recommended inference patterns employed functions, goal-talk, or conventional purposes as observable indicators of a speaker's unobservable intentions, which were assumed actually to exist and to constitute the speaker's goals.

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The present collection of seven studies on multiple goals in discourse offers an opportunity to re-examine the conceptualisation of goals in discourse. Usage of the term, goal, in these studies generally adheres to the prototypical sense. Some studies emphatically problematise this concept while others take it very much for granted. Equivocation with quasi-goal concepts is evident at several points. Following a brief review of the seven studies, I shall speculate a little on the implications of the equivocal status of goals in discourse theory. Penman's study, a major contribution to the theory of facework, conceives of goals in the prototypical sense but does so in the context of what is basically a functional discourse analysis. Speakers are presumed to have intentional, positive, strategic goals. These cannot, of course, be observed directly but can only be inferred from situated discourse. Inferences of goals from discourse are acknowledged to be uncertain and context-bound. A speaker's goals, for example, may become apparent only when tracked over a long stretch of discourse. But the method of analysis side-steps the indeterminacy of goals and instead approaches goals indirectly through discourse strategies that are functionally related to possible goals; strategies, in other words, that could be used in pursuit of certain goals even though the inference that they actually were so used in any particular instance may be indeterminate. The analysis rests strongly on the assumption that speakers in general do have prototypical goals, but not on the assumption that observers can reliably identify those goals in a given case. Functions can be studied as goal-surrogates. Hopper & Drummond, in 'Emergent Goals at a Relational Turning Point', are highly critical of conceptualisations that treat conversational discourse as a medium or vehicle that speakers use to accomplish goals (prototypical goals) that have been formulated beforehand. They are especially critical of studies that rely on retrospective self-reports which, they conclude, exaggerate the goal-directed aspects of discourse and deflect attention from the emergent, improvised character of interaction. The very notion of goal is identified with a 'model-driven' approach to discourse that entails 'mysterious entities in our heads' and fails to account for the emergence and temporal development of goals through discourse. Goals may not be constant throughout an interaction as writers in interpersonal communication often seem to suppose. A speaker's goals as reported after the fact may not reflect the complexity and temporal development of the actual situation. The analysis of conversations between Gordon and Denise indicates the difficulty involved in deciding among several different descriptive formulations of each speaker's goals. Yet the analysis generally supports the supposition that Gordon may have entered 'Break Up' with the intention of breaking up with Denise and pursued that goal through the conversation. Gordon's later self-report does not reflect the tentative, emergent aspects of his interaction with Denise but is not untrue in broad outline. Goals, as Hopper & Drummond admit, can be both preformulated and emergent. The bias of the conversational analysis method, which focuses on the moment to moment development of the discourse, is perhaps to overemphasise the emergent aspects of goals. This point suggests several further thoughts. A speaker might have goals that remain constant throughout an interaction but are not consistently displayed in the talk. Especially given multiple

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goals, we would expect a speaker to focus on different goals at different times. But goals may also change in the course of interaction as preformulated goals are modified or even abandoned while other goals emerge. In the end, Hopper & Drummond do not call for the abandonment of the goal concept but rather advocate its demotion in favour of detailed descriptions of interactional events. Ragan's analysis of verbal play in the gynaecological examination not only assumes that speakers have prototypical goals but finds, in apparent contradiction to Hopper & Drummond, that goals are relatively unproblematic, indeed almost transparently obvious to the observer. Goals in this study are not problematised but rather strongly presumed. The discrepancy may derive from several sources. In making inferences about goals, Ragan is able to draw upon a rich ethnographic background concerning the gynaecological examination, which as a speech event is highly structured by institutional and technical constraints, and of which she studies multiple instances. Penman enjoys similar advantages in her study of courtroom discourse. In both cases, conventional purposes and recurrent functions along with the associated discursive resources are well established and provide a relatively strong basis for inferences about goals. Hopper & Drummond in contrast study a single instance of relatively much less institutionally constrained speech situation. In this light, it is not surprising that they should find that inferences about speaker goals cannot be drawn with great confidence. The goals that Ragan & Penman study are not so much preformulated as they are deeply embedded within established institutional practices. Goals inferred on the basis of such institutional practices are less dependent on guesses about the idiosyncratic cognitive states of individuals. Rather than asking what goals are demonstrated in the discourse, the analyst can ask how presumed institutionally relevant goals are reflected in practice. Penman finds more difficulty than Ragan perhaps because the courtroom, a less cooperative situation than the gynaecological examination, is correspondingly less structured by conventional purposes, more by competitive strategies. Iacobucci, in her study of telephone billing complaint interviews, problematises another aspect of goals, namely the unit of analysis implied by a goal description. Equivocation in this matter is quite common. Ragan, for example, like many other writers, alternates references to face goals (plural) with references to 'the goal' of satisfying face needs. Goal seems not to refer to any definite unit of analysis. Goals can be formulated by an observer at different levels of functional specificity or so as to highlight different aspects of a complex intention (as in the 'accordion effect' illustrated by Searle, 1983). Iacobucci treats this as a serious problem requiring greater attention to the hierarchical coherence of goals. In this study, as in Ragan's, goals are inferred on the basis of a recurrent speech sitution that is highly structured, in this case by corporate policies that presumably constrain the goals of the telephone service representatives. Iacobucci argues that the customers and telephone company representatives in these interviews have not multiple goals but rather complementary, single overarching goals. Drawing upon a theoretical distinction between task and social relational goals, the argument claims that task goals dominate in this situation and that discourse elements that might be interpreted, for example, as instances of facework, actually are used to

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accomplish task goals. Task and relational goals are not necessarily independent, nor can these goals reliably be inferred from the presence of discourse elements typically functionally associated with them, rather, as Hopper & Drummond maintain, the goal orientation of the speakers has to be tracked as it emerges through the particular interaction. lacobucci has apparently found a type of situation in which relational and task concerns are not strongly in tension and thus do not emerge as distinct goals. It is not that the discourse has no relational functionsthe company representative, for example, clearly uses discursive strategies to create a certain impersonal, non-judgmental social relationship with the customerbut these relational goals are not in general compensatory to the task goal (as in the gynaecological exam) but rather mesh tightly with them. The questions raised by this analysis include: What constitutes a goal? When should we properly speak of 'multiple goals' and when of a single, complex, overarching goal? Multiple goals are usually thought of as goals potentially in conflict; yet Penman, for example, in her study of courtroom discourse treats multifunctionality as equivalent to multiple goals without necessarily assuming that the multiple functions of an utterance are in tension. The solution to this problem will not be found in some standard unit of analysis for goal descriptions but rather in theoretical goal formulations that make apparent the relations that exist among whatever units are distinguished. Waldron et al. use goal-talk in a cued recall interview as an index of goal thoughts during conversation. Their conceptualisation of goals equivocates somewhat between prototypical goals and functions. Goals are regarded as cognitions to which the speaker may or may not have conscious 'access'. Conscious goal-relevant thoughts are thus assumed to be imperfect indicators of underlying cognitive processes, and cued recall self-reports in turn are only imperfect indicators of goal-relevant thoughts during the conversation. Nevertheless the findings are of some interest and suggest several relevant conclusions. First, speakers do think about their goals during conversation, some speakers more so than others. Second, social or facework goals may not be thought about distinctly from instrumental or task goals, but rather, as Iacobucci suggests, these goals may more typically be integrated within an overall instrumental orientation (although Waldron et al. helpfully suggest several alternative explanations for the lack of distinct relational and identity management goal thoughts in their cued recall data). Third, however, speakers who actually used more indirect discourse strategies (which imply attention to face wants as well as instrumental goals) did evidence more goal-oriented thinking. And finally, the finding that goal-relevant thoughts occurred partly in response to the partner's tactics lends support Hopper & Drummond's emphasis on the temporal emergence of goals in the course of interaction. Goal management, as Waldron et al. put it, reflects more than 'predispositions or predetermined plans' but rather 'appears to involve on-line cognitive adjustment'. Greene et al. also focus on indicators of cognitive processes involved in pursuing multiple goals. The concept of goal is not problematised in this study but is taken for granted. People are assumed to 'have' goals or can be 'given' goals by means of experimental instructions. The language used is ambiguous between inten-

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tional and functional notions of goal. Messages are said to be 'aimed' toward goals; higher level goals are said to be 'used' to constrain lower level onesformulations which suggest intentionality. But the cognitive processing model and the method of analysis employed, in contrast to he method of Waldron et al., is entirely functionalist, neither depending on self reports nor making any assumption related to conscious awareness of goal-relevant cognitions. Greene et al. find that instructed goals are functionally associated with differences in behaviourwhich argues against one of Waldron et al. s explanations for their failure to find increased relational goal thoughts in the condition where subjects were given relationally oriented goal instructions. Goals apparently can be manipulated to some extent by means of instructions in a laboratory setting. Although the functional relevance of the observed behavioural differences between experimental groups is acknowledged to be somewhat ambiguous, Greene et al., unlike Penman or Hopper & Drummond, apparently do not regard this as a reflection of any inherent indeterminacy of discourse but instead express confidence that any such ambiguity can be sorted out in further experimental investigations. Bavelas et al. ostensibly take an approach quite opposite to the cognitive approaches of Waldron et al. and Greene et al. For Bavelas et al., discourse is to be treated 'entirely ''from the outside''as a public event rather than a private mental process'. Goals are 'in the situation rather than in the person'. And messages are analysed 'in terms of their impact on receivers or decoders, rather than making inferences about what the sender intended or meant by the message'. Resembling in some respects the ethnomethodological critique of goals according to Hopper & Drummond, this looks like a rejection of prototypical goals in favour of a strict focus on discourse functions. But Bavelas et al. emphasise that they do not intend to deny that mental processes exist; rather they stress that situational processes have been understudied and are more easily studied empirically. In describing specific situations, however, Bavelas et al. do not completely avoid what to this reader seem very much like mentalistic concepts, and their language seems rather to equivocate between intentional and functional formulations of goals. For example, the choice between a kind but false message versus telling a hurtful truth is considered to present an avoidanceavoidance conflict to the speaker when the hearer is someone the speaker cares about and when the speaker is constrained from lying by 'personal values or fear of detection'. But caring for someone, having values, and fear of detection are mental, not situational, factors; and the process by which they constrain the individual's goals presumably takes place within the individual. Admittedly these factors are presented to subjects in scenarios provided as part of the experimental instructions, but that is equally true in cognitive experimental studies such as those of Waldron et al. and Greene et al. In all cases the experimental instructions can at best be regarded as indices of speaker goals, and the reduction of prototypical goals to functions is incomplete. It is not, therefore, quite clear to me what the shift to a situational view amounts to. This theoretical equivocation in no way reduces the value of the results, which indicate that equivocation (on the part of ordinary speakers if not researchers) is a response to goal conflicts. ****************

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Goal in the prototypical sense is a term in ordinary language, but it need not for that reason be admitted to the theoretical language of discourse studies, and as I pointed out earlier, strong arguments can be made for barring it. But we have seen that intentional, positive, strategic goals are posited or presupposed, though often equivocally, in each of these seven discourse studies, some of which are nevertheless highly critical of the ordinary goal concept. What should we make of this situation? In ordinary language goals are elements of a normative model in which speakers' actions are judged as more or less appropriate and effective in relation to their goals. Empirical discourse studies, such as those of Penman, Iacobucci, or Hooper & Drummond, that problematise speaker goals, demonstrate that goals are often elusive to the observer and that situated, ongoing discourse is often enigmatically or indeterminately related to abstract theoretical notions of goal. The prototypical concept of goal is thus quite problematic from an empirical standpoint. But, from a normative standpoint, the fact that discourse is not always clearly or successfully goal-oriented does not render the concept of goal any less useful. Indeed it is precisely that people do not always pursue clear, consistent, appropriate goals; that they are not always aware of the goals they are (functionally) pursuing or should be pursuing; that they fail to assume moral responsibility for functional consequences of their talk or else unrealistically assign moral responsibility, inappropriately attributing intentionality to emergent functional outcomes of discourseit is, in other words, precisely because people often fail to apply the normative model to their discursive practices or apply it erroneously, that the prototypical goal concept is so useful: not just for description of discourse but for criticism of it. People, for example, may or may not typically order their multiple, conflicting goals in relation to a coherent overarching goal as lacobucci's research suggests. We may nevertheless have reason to admire and learn from their artistry when they manage do so in difficult circumstances. What we can learn from such a study is not that people definitely do or do not order all their goals in relation to overarching goals, but that techniques for doing so can be demonstrated. Having been demonstrated, those techniques become available to discourse analysts and, though the publication of their work, to ordinary speakers. That researchers so often equivocate between prototypical goals and one or another quasi-goal concept may reflect an unresolved tension within researchers' own multiple goals: a desire to conduct scientifically valid research while remaining in touch with a commonsense, practical understanding of discourse that employs prototypical goals in normative formulations. The ordinary language of goals, philosophically refined, is the language of philosophical pragmatism. But, pragmatism is not the only philosophical view from which to conduct a critique of discourse; indeed there is room for a healthy debate concerning different, conflicting normative models of discourse that may be inchoately present in ordinary language. Scientifically trained discourse researchers may not be attracted by the prospect of a philosphical debate, but the present essay suggests that such a debate would not be without implications for the conduct of empirical research. Sorting out the equivocations in the theoretical language of goals in discourse may require

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that certain hitherto unacknowledged tensions among our own implicit goals as discourse theorists be addressed. References Craig, R. T. (1986) Goals in discourse. In D. G. Ellis and W. A. Donohue (eds) Contemporary Issues in Language and Discourse Processes. Hillsdale, NJ and London: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Searle, J. R. (1983) Intentionality: An Essay in the Philosophy of Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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INDEX

A Accounts 85-99 Action assembly theory 119-134

C Case study 39-65 Cognitive complexity 119-134 Communicative strategy 1-13, 163-170 Conflict 135-161 Conversation 67-84 Conversational goals 101-118

D Deception 135-161 Discourse 1-13, 163-170 analysis 15-38, 39-65

E Equivocation 135-161

F Face 1-13, 163-170 Facework 15-38 Formulations 85-99

G Goals 39-65, 67-84, 85-99, 135-161

H Humour 67-84

I Information acquisition 101-118 Intention 1-13, 163-170 Interaction 67-84

L Lying 135-161

M

Medical 67-84 Multiple goals 1-13, 15-38, 163-170

N Nonverbal leakage 135-161

P Pausing 119-134 Play 67-84 Politeness 15-38

R Relation-oriented talk 85-99 Relational communication 39-65 Retrospective Interview Technique (RIT) 39-65

S Service encounters 85-99 Situated identity 1-13, 163-170 Social cognition 101-118 goals 119-134 Speech fluency 119-134 latency 119-134

T Tactics 101-118 Task-oriented talk 85-99 Turning points 39-65

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