Ghadessy Register Analysis

Open Linguistics Series The Open Linguistics Series, to which this book makes a significant contribution, is 'open' in two senses. First, it provides an open forum for works associated with any school of linguistics or with none. Linguistics has now emerged from a period in which many (but never all) of the most lively minds in the subject seemed to assume that transformational-generative grammar - or at least something fairly closely derived from it - would provide the main theoretical framework for linguistics for the foreseeable future. In Kuhn's terms, linguistics had appeared to some to have reached the 'paradigm' stage. Reality today is very different. More and more scholars are working to improve and expand theories that were formerly scorned for not accepting as central the particular set of concerns highlighted in the Chomskyan approach - such as Halliday's systemic theory (as exemplified in this book) Lamb's stratificational model and Pike's tagmemics - while others are developing new theories. The series is open to all approaches, then - including work in the generativist-formalist tradition.

The second sense in which the series is 'open' is that it encourages works that open out 'core' linguistics in various ways: to encompass discourse and the description of natural texts; to explore the relationship between linguistics and its neighbouring disciplines such as psychology, sociology, philosophy, artificial intelligence, and cultural and literary studies; and to apply it in fields such as education and language pathology.

Open Linguistics Series Editor Robin F. Fawcett, University of Wales College of Cardiff

Modal Expressions in English, Michael R. Perkins Text and Tagmeme, Kenneth L. Pike and Evelyn G. Pike The Semiotics of Culture and Language, eds: Robin P. Fawcett, M.A.K. Halliday,

Sydney M. Lamb and Adam Makkai Into the Mother Tongue: A Case Study in Early Language Development, Clare Painter Language and the Nuclear Arms Debate: Nukespeak Today, ed: Paul Chilton The Structure of Social Interaction: A Systemic Approach to the Semiotics of Service Encounters,

Eija Ventola Grammar in the Construction of Texts, ed.: J ames Monaghan On Meaning, A.J. Griemas, trans. by Paul Perron and Frank Collins Biological Metaphor and Cladistic Classification: An Interdisciplinary Approach, eds: Henry

M. Hoenigswald and Linda F. Wiener New Developments in Systemic Linguistics, Volume 1: Theory and Description, eds: M.A.K.

Halliday and Robin P .. Fawcett Volume 2: Theory and Application, eds: Robin P. Fawcett and David Young Eloquence and Power: The Rise of Language Standards and Standard Language, John Earl

Joseph Functions of Style, eds: David Birch and Michael O'Toole Registers of Written English: Situational Factors and Linguistic Features, ed.: Mohsen

Ghadessy Pragmatics, Discourse and Text, ed.: Erich H. Steiner and Robert Veltman The Communicative Syallabus, Robin Melrose Advances in Systemic Linguistics: Recent Theory and Practice, eds.: Martin Davies and

Louise Ravelli Studies in Systemic Phonology, ed: Paul Tench Ecolinguistics: Towards a New Paradigm for the Science of Language, Adam Makkai

REGISTER ANALYSIS

Theory and Practice

Edited by MOHSEN GHADESSY

Pinter Publishers London and New York Distributed in the United States and Canada by St. Martin's Press

-----_._--_._-----_._--"------------------

Open Linguistics Series The Open Linguistics Series, to which this book makes a significant contribution, is 'open' in two senses. First, it provides an open forum for works associated with any school of linguistics or with none. Linguistics has now emerged from a period in which many (but never all) of the most lively minds in the subject seemed to assume that transformational-generative grammar - or at least something fairly closely derived from it - would provide the main theoretical framework for linguistics for the foreseeable future. In Kuhn's terms, linguistics had appeared to some to have reached the 'paradigm' stage. Reality today is very different. More and more scholars are working to improve and expand theories that were formerly scorned for not accepting as central the particular set of concerns highlighted in the Chomskyan approach - such as Halliday's systemic theory (as exemplified in this book) Lamb's stratificational model and Pike's tagmemics - while others are developing new theories. The series is open to all approaches, then - including work in the generativist-formalist tradition.

The second sense in which the series is 'open' is that it encourages works that open out 'core' linguistics in various ways: to encompass discourse and the description of natural texts; to explore the relationship between linguistics and its neighbouring disciplines such as psychology, sociology, philosophy, artificial intelligence, and cultural and literary studies; and to apply it in fields such as education and language pathology.

Open Linguistics Series Editor Robin F. Fawcett, University of Wales College of Cardiff

Modal Expressions in English, Michael R. Perkins Text and Tagmeme, Kenneth L. Pike and Evelyn G. Pike The Semiotics of Culture and Language, eds: Robin P. Fawcett, M.A.K. Halliday,

Sydney M. Lamb and Adam Makkai Into the Mother Tongue: A Case Study in Early Language Development, Clare Painter Language and the Nuclear Arms Debate: Nukespeak Today, ed: Paul Chilton The Structure of Social Interaction: A Systemic Approach to the Semiotics of Service Encounters,

Eija Ventola Grammar in the Construction of Texts, ed.: J ames Monaghan On Meaning, A.J. Griemas, trans. by Paul Perron and Frank Collins Biological Metaphor and Cladistic Classification: An Interdisciplinary Approach, eds: Henry

M. Hoenigswald and Linda F. Wiener New Developments in Systemic Linguistics, Volume 1: Theory and Description, eds: M.A.K.

Halliday and Robin P. Fawcett Volume 2: Theory and Application, eds: Robin P. Fawcett and David Young Eloquence and Power: The Rise of Language Standards and Standard Language, John Earl

Joseph Functions of Style, eds: David Birch and Michael O'Toole Registers of Written English: Situational Factors and Linguistic Features, ed.: Mohsen

Ghadessy Pragmatics, Discourse and Text, ed.: Erich H. Steiner and Robert Veltman The Communicative Syallabus, Robin Melrose Advances in Systemic Linguistics: Recent Theory and Practice, eds.: Martin Davies and

Louise Ravelli Studies in Systemic Phonology, ed: Paul Tench Ecolinguistics: Towards a New Paradigm for the Science of Language, Adam Makkai

REGISTER ANALYSIS

Theory and Practice

Edited by MOHSEN GHADESSY

Pinter Publishers London and New York Distributed in the United States and Canada by St. Martin's Press

Pint er Publishers 25 Floral Street, Covent Garden, London, WC2E 9DS, United Kingdom

First published in 1993

© The editor and contributors, 1993

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, this publication may not be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, or process without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holders or their agents. Except for reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licencing Agency, photocopying of whole or part of this publication without the prior written permission of the copyright holders or their agents in single or multiple copies whether for gain or not is illegal and expressly forbidden. Please direct all enquiries concerning copyright to the Publishers at the address above.

Distributed exclusively in the USA and Canada by St. Martin's Press, Inc., Room 400, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY10010, USA

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 1 85567 123 9

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Register analysis: theory and practice / edited by Mohsen Ghadessy. p. cm. - (Open linguistics series)

Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-85567-123-9 1. Register (Linguistics) 1. Ghadessy, Mohsen, 1935-

n. Series. P302.815.R45 1993 414'.6-dc20

Typeset by Mayhew Typesetting, Rhayader, Powys

92-44120 CIP

Printed and bound in Great Britain by BiddIes Ltd., Guildford and King's Lynn

to my father ABBAS GHADESSY

1898--1992

Contents

List of contributors Foreword

Introduction Mohsen Ghadessy

Part I. Practice and theory

IX

X

1. 'Register' in discourse studies: a concept in search of a theory 7 Robert de Beaugrande

2. The specification of a text: register, genre and language teaching Helen Leckie- Tarry

Part H. Controlling and changing ideologies

3. Drama praxis and the dialogic imperative David Birch

4. Evaluation and ideology in scientific writing Susan Hunston

Part HI. The role of metaphor: grammatical and lexical

5. The discourse of history: distancing the recoverable past Suzanne Eggins, Peter Wignell and j. R. Martin

6. Species of metaphor in written and spoken varieties Andrew Goatly

Part IV. Quantitative evidence for register analysis

26

43

57

75

110

7. On the nature of written business communication 149 Mohsen Ghadessy

8. Pragmatic and macrothematic patterns in science and popular science: a diachronic study of articles from three fields 165 Britt-Louise Gunnarsson

Vll1 CONTENTS

Part V. Computer applications

9. Text processing using the Functional Grammar Processor (FGP) 181 Jonathan J. Webster

10. Collocation in computer modelling of lexis as most delicate grammar Marilyn Cross

Part VI. A unified theory of register analysis

11. Register in the round: diversity in a unified theory of register analysis Christian Matthiessen

Name index Subject index

196

221

293 297

List of contributors

David Birch, School of Humanities, English Department, Murdoch University, Murdoch, WA 6150, Australia

Marilyn Cross, School of English and Linguistics, Macquarie University, NSW 2109, Australia

Robert de Beaugrande, Institute fur Anglistik und Amerikanistik, Universitatsstr. 7., A 1010-Wien, Austria

Suzanne Eggins, Linguistics Department, Sydney University, Sydney, Australia

Mohsen Ghadessy, Department of English Language and Literature, National University of Singapore, Kent Ridge, Singapore 0511

Andrew Goatly, Department of English Language and Literature, National University of Singapore, Kent Ridge, Singapore 0511

Britt-Louise Gunnarsson, Uppsala University, FUMS, Box 1834, S-751 48 Uppsala, Sweden

Susan Hunston, English Language Institute, University of Surrey, Guildford, Surrey GU2 5XH, England

Helen Leckie-Tarry, Clo Dr David Birch

Christian Matthiessen, Linguistics Department, Sydney University, Sydney, Australia

J R Martin, Linguistics Department, Sydney University, Sydney, Australia

J J Webster, Department of Applied Linguistics, City Polytechnic of Hong Kong, 83 Tat Chee Avenue, Kowloon, Hong Kong

Peter Wignall, Linguistics Department, Sydney University, Sydney, Australia

Foreword

As a sub-discipline of linguistics, Register Analysis has been developing very fast in the last few decades. Many people are now working with examples of genuine texts in the hope of establishing the linguistic features that characterize each. This book includes a number of such attempts. The first two chapters are introductory; the next eight are examples of how register analysis can be carried out. The final chapter brings the different approaches to register analysis under a unified theory of register. Several of the chapters base their analyses on the Systemic Functional Theory of grammar proposed by Michael Halliday.

Mohsen Ghadessy Singapore, February 1992

Introduction

The analysis of genuine texts has for some time been a necessary part of several courses in the study of language. Text linguistics, discourse analysis, pragmatics, and register and genre variation all depend, except in the case of examples from fiction, on communicative events that have actually taken place. The purpose of this book is to focus on register analysis, which has been a strong research area in linguistics for several decades. The book will provide some background information and

\ guidelines for the student - undergraduate/graduate - interested in the functional varieties of the English language. The first two chapters introduce the subject; the others show how register analysis can be carried out. All the chapters are self-contained and draw upon a number of theories and models proposed by modern linguists. The systemic functional model of Michael Halliday plays a prominent part in several of these chapters.

Background: practice and theory

In the first chapter, de Beaugrande provides a detailed account of the emergence and development of the concept of REGISTER. Through a critical analysis of similar concepts proposed by Pike, i.e. 'the universe of discourse' and Firth, i.e. 'restricted languages', de Beaugrande highlights some of the inherent problems these early linguists encountered in their respective descriptions. The bulk of this chapter, however, is given to a discussion of Michael Halliday's approach in register analysis and the central problem of how the concept of register can account for the 'processes' which relate 'the features of the text' to 'the abstract categories of the speech situation'. In relation to the latter, the categories of FIELD, MODE and TENOR are then introduced and discussed. De Beaugrande quotes Halliday that field, mode and tenor can 'make explicit the means whereby the observer can derive the systematic norms governing the particulars of the text'.

De Beaugrande maintains that in most register analyses 'The practical has run well ahead of the theoretical ... ' and that 'Halliday's own central theoretical work, An Introduction to Functional Grammar, so far backs away from it in a somewhat disappointing way'. De Beaugrande calls for a reassessment of the concept of register in the light of recent developments in discourse analysis, text linguistics, and discourse processing. ' ... future

2 MOHSEN GHADESSY

work must include having everyday speakers describe the registers they know and the ways they use them'. Regular 'systematic assistance' should be given to school children in 'developing or diversifying their range of registers'. De Beaugrande concludes by giving a few guidelines for register analysis with the 'vital' criterion being ' ... how the participants in situation types view their discourse and how far they in fact adapt their general discourse strategies to fit the type ... '. Thus a 'more comprehensive engagement with the notion of register' is called for.

In the second chapter Leckie-Tarry compares the concept of REGISTER

with the concept of GENRE and discusses some of the implications for the teaching of English in ESP courses. As in the first chapter, due credit is given to the pioneering work of Michael Halliday on register analysis. However, consequent 'theoretical changes and developments' are made the focus of her following arguments - the central issue being the development of 'a model that shows systematically how text is related to context'. Leckie-Tarry maintains that there is 'considerable variation in the definitions and conceptualizations of "register" and "genre"'. There is some overlapping; a basic misinterpretation being that 'register' refers primarily to 'linguistic features'. Leckie-Tarry suggests that the term register is now associated with 'primary or simple genres' while genre is related to 'secondary or complex genres'. Also, many practitioners use the two terms 'interchangeably'. The firm conclusion of this chapter is that ' ... any attempt to characterise language, or variation within a language, must work through the concepts of register and genre, and ... any characterisation of register/genre ... must specify both contextual features at various levels as well as linguistic features'.

Controlling and changing ideologies

David Birch initially puts forward a forceful argument for 'deictic shifts' which 'signal different points of view' which then 'signal different realities' which subsequently 'determine and are determined by (multiple) ideologies'. Defining PRAXIS as 'a process of analysis and action designed to bring about change', and 'Bakhtin/Voloshinov's DIALOGIC IMPERATIVE

as the process by which 'one meaning - one voice - is able, always, to influence, and be influenced by, another meaning, another voice', he then selects passages from several modern playwrights such as Pinter, Beckett, Harris, and Albee and shows that there is in any use of language 'a struggle for dominance; a struggle to bring about change'. For example, he discusses how 'control' is exercised by a number of linguistic devices in the language of drama. His firm conclusion is that all types of texts are 'distinct imperative acts aimed at influencing the thoughts and actions of other people'. Our lexical and grammatical selections are not 'innocent choices'. There is always 'a struggle for power which results in ideologically conflicting registers; ideologically different systems of classifying and controlling the world ... '.

INTRODUCTION 3

Susan Hunston's contribution deals with the complexity of 'scientific ideology' and how writers in the field attempt to follow the esta~lished conventions in this register. Considering a written text as representmg an 'interaction between a writer and a reader' and as playing 'a role in a particular social system', she further develops. the. argument t~at . the 'ideologies' surrounding a text 'constrain choices m dIscourse orgamsatIOn, grammar and lexis'. One important aspect, i.e. 'the value-.syst~m', is then analysed in terms of 'evaluation' in a number of sCIentIfic texts experimental research articles. Arguing that 'persua~ion' is 'one. of the chief functions' of a research article, Hunston considers three kmds of evaluation which she calls 'evaluation of STATUS, evaluation of VALUE',

and 'evaluation of RELEVANCE'. Each kind is then defined and exemplified extensively by using appropriate texts .. In her conclud~ng remarks Hunston discusses the relevance of her findmgs to the teachmg of writi~g in general and scientific register in particular. She stresses, w~th others, that the 'interpersonal function', especially w.hen the mo~ahty system is used, is of crucial importance in writing. The Ideology of sCIe~ce 'is not a monolithic homogeneous entity but a complex of subtle meshmg of contradictory notions'. Hunston unravels some of this complexity by showing how the 'internal evaluation' is linguistically realized m experimental research articles.

The role of metaphor

The chapter by Eggins et al. is a good example of how o~e can do .register analysis by looking at the language of one type of discourse, l.e: the discipline of history. By using passages from j~nior high school hlsto? textbooks used in New South Wales, AustralIa, they show how thiS discourse 'maximises the distance between what people actually did and how it gets written about'. Fundamental to their analysis and conclusi?ns is the notion of GRAMMATICAL METAPHOR, i.e. 'the incongruent realIsations of semantic choices'. Grammatical metaphor is then exemplified through several processes which include 'nominalising actions, giving things existence, making things act, setting in time, phase, doings acting, doings acted on' and 'people as actors in history' - the 'cumulative effect' being 'to remove the story from history'.

Claiming that 'the removal of people as actors' in history 'can be seen as a cline'. Eggins et al. then examine in some detail four different types of text to show how the technology of history shunts along the scale between 'the more story-like' to 'the more abstract'. In the final part of the chapter, the technology of history, i.e. 'the process of tur~ing a story into history' - 'a process of abstraction', is further discussed With reference to the register variable of MODE. Two kinds of 'distance', i.e. 'interpersonal' and 'experiential' are then highlighted wit~ t~e con.clusi?n that 'highly incongruent language' would be produced If m a SituatIOn the above two 'distances' were maximal. 'The "story of people" serves only

4 MOHSEN GHADESSY

as the point of departure in (the) process of distancing the recoverable past', they conclude.

In contrast to describing the linguistic features that are distinctive of one register, Andrew Goatly discusses the role of metaphor in a number of registers. First he establishes metaphor varieties such as 'word class, syntactic, interpretative, functional', and then analyses several passages in relation to them. The registers considered include conversation, news reporting, popular science, advertising and poetry. He concludes that there is a concentration of one or more of the above metaphors and their subtypes in each variety under discussion. For example 'explanatory and theory - constitutive metaphors' are distinctive of the register of popular science whereas 'revitalised and punning metaphors' distinguish the register of advertising. Goatly adds' a 'post-script' that 'many features of metaphorical style . . . can be explained by considering the time pressure under which encoders and decoders are working'.

Quantitative evidence for register analysis

If a register is the result of constant and cumulative selections from the field, mode, and tenor of discourse presented in a 'unique' structure, then it is possible to quantify these selections. The assumption here is that there should be similarities in the above respects between texts that most of us subconsciously categorize as belonging to the same register.

Ghadessy's chapter deals with the 'similarities' found in sixty letters in written business communication. After discussing the related field mode and tenor of discourse, an attempt is made to establish the 'elem'ents' of structure shared by these letters. Each letter is considered as an 'extended turn' in the CHAIN of communicative events for which a suitable Generic Structure Potential (GSP) is then proposed. It is concluded that the chainlike quality of this type of communication is a function of two obligatory elements, i.e. REFERENCE and CLOSING, found in all the examples under discussion.

Gunnarsson's contribution deals with some diachronic and synchronic changes in three types of science and popular science articles in Sweden. Her investigation covers the fields of medicine, technology and economics from three periods, 1895-1905, 1935-1945, and 1975-1985. Forty-five articles from scientific journals and forty-five popular scienGe periodicals were used in the study. Four dimensions of 'message structure' are focused upon. They include 'cognitive (schema concept)', 'pragmatic (illocution, purpose)', 'macrothematic (super/macro themes)', and 'microthematic (cohesion pattern)'. Gunnarsson points to several factors responsible for the changes in the genres under discussion. They are 'specialisation, internationalisation (Americanisation), educational expansion, and information explosion'. Based on the statistical evidence presented, she concludes that ' ... changes in text patterns are a reflection of changes in the contextual frames within which the texts function'. Finally four hypotheses based on

INTRODUCTION 5

some social trends are presented. They include, (1) 'clearer genre boundaries', (2) 'pattern shift after 1945', (3) 'greater expert character', and (4) 'firmer genre conventions'.

Computer applications

Jonathan Webster shows how a computer programme - Functional Grammar Processor (FGP) - can analyse texts based on the approach proposed by Michael Halliday in his Introduction to Functional Grammar in terms of theme-rheme structure, mood-residue and transitivity. The analytical unit for the FG P is the clause which according to Halliday is 'a text in microcosm'. Webster's FGP facilitates the analysis of longer texts which so far have not been used by researchers working within the Hallidayan model. It is invaluable especially for the comparison of different registers. Stating that FGP resembles 'the blackboard model of problem solving', Webster concludes that 'the three kinds of structural analysis that together comprise the FGP are each a knowledge source, a knowledge module'. By saving the analyses of various clauses in an external database - the blackboard - the researcher creates a source with which subsequent modules can interact and respond to changes where and when necessary.

Marilyn Cross presents a register-based model and implementation of lexis for text generation in her chapter. Accepting the definition given for lexis as 'the resources of the vocabulary . . . covering both the static organisation of vocabulary and the process of lexical choice', she discusses the traditional treatment of lexis as an open system and contrasts it with the treatment of grammar as a closed system - 'grammar is characterised by closed relations where there is a choice among a fixed number of possibilities'. The range of collocation is then correlated with different grammatical forms which are predicted by the register of language under discussion. Cross exemplifies her argument by providing a detailed account of several 'transformation Processes' i.e. heat, cool, evaporate, condense, transpire, etc. in the Material Process Network - the critical event is these processes being that the Medium is transformed in some way. She concludes that the 'collocation of lexical items within a register may be handled through preselections when the lexical networks are developed for all grammatical classes'.

A unified theory of register analysis

The main purpose of the last chapter by Matthiessen is to bring the various approaches to register analysis under a unified theory of register. In section (1) he first states that the concept of 'register' can be fore grounded 'as one way into the complex of language'. Then he reviews the theoretical origin of the notion of register as 'part of our metalanguage for construing language'. He emphasizes one fundamental aspect of

6 MOHSEN GHADESSY

Firthian theory which de Beaugrande 'does not mention' in relation to register analysis, i.e. polysystemicness. Matthiessen argues that there has been 'considerable theoretical development of register theory since the early 60s'. In contrast to de Beaugrande's position, he emphasizes 'the need for extensive and detailed descriptions of register' as 'we now have the theoretical resources for undertaking such studies'. Other sections in this chapter include (2) The semiotic space in which register is located, (3) Register variation, (4) Register and stratification, (5) Register variation and semohistory, (6) Register and potentiality, and (7) Register description. Throughout the chapter Matthiessen's main focus is 'theory review and development with some descriptive excursions as illustrations and a note on descriptive strategies and tools'.

It is only appropriate that we conclude this short introduction by a quotation from Michael Halliday who, among modern linguists, has been most responsible for new developments in the analysis of genuine texts. In a recent article (1991) once again he emphasizes the importance of register analysis.

'Register variation can in fact be defined as systematic variation in probabilities; "a register" is a tendency to select certain combinations of meanings with certain frequencies, and this can be formulated as the probabilities attached to grammatical systems, provided such systems are integrated into an overall system network in a paradigmatic interpretation of the grammar.'

Reference

Halliday, M.A.K. (1991), 'Corpus Studies and Probabilistic Grammar', English Corpus Linguistics, Karin Aijmer and Bengt Altenberg (eds), London: Longman.

Part I. Practice and theory

1 'Register' in discourse studies: a concept In search of a theory Robert de Beaugrande

1. The early heritage

Throughout much of linguistic theory and method, the concept of 'register' has led a rather shadowy existence. The term itself is not used at all in early foundational works, such as those of linguists like Saussure (1916), Sapir (1921), and Bloomfield (1933), nor do we find there any term we might classify as roughly equivalent. In such works, the lack is not too surprising. When linguistic theory is declared to be mainly concerned with abstract systems, as envisioned by Saussure, or with taxonomies of minimal units, as envisioned by Bloomfield, 'register' would be likely to seem a troublesome or even disruptive concept. It implies that the valence of systems or minimal units might not be established in the language as a whole but in some sub domain or constellation of contexts. A 'register' is certainly not a language unit, and is hard to define as a system of such units comparable, say, to the 'system' of 'phonemes' of a language, or to its 'system' of noun declensions or verb conjugations, and so on. Thus, a concept like 'register' would have contravened the early aspirations of linguistic theorists to make statements and set up schemes of the highest possible generality and abstraction.

However, we would expect to find the term, or some rough equivalent for it, in foundational linguistic works where the interest in discourse was quite pronounced, such as the collection-volumes by Pike (1967 [1954-60]) and ].R. Firth (1930, 1937, 1957 [1934-51], 1968 [1952-59]). Such linguists emphasized that they did not share the 'theoretical' commitments of their more conventional (or 'mainstream') colleagues, and that the major motive for this 'heresy' was a vital concern for actual speech and discourse and hence a mistrust of the drive toward abstraction.

In Pike's work, a possible equivalent for 'register' is 'the universe of discourse', which he considered able to 'condition' the 'meaning' even of his fundamental unit, 'the morpheme' (1967: 599). Such a thesis followed from his characteristic argument that 'the meaning of one unit in part

8 ROBERT DE BEAUGRANDE

constitutes' and 'is constituted of the meaning of a neighbouring unit'; and that 'meaning' is 'one contrastive component of the entire complex' (1967: 609, 148 ff., 430).

Thus, Pike's interest in discourse domains or 'universe' reflects his awareness of the dependence of meaning on context. He suggested that units have a 'central meaning' with 'greater frequency' among 'the community' than 'marginal meanings', but 'special universes of discourse' can alter this proportion (1967: 601). Therefore, we might try to 'find a statistically' measurable 'set of common contexts', or set up 'a hierarchy of universes of discourse with progressive degrees of centrality' (1967: 600, 602). However, we might find 'no specific number of distributional orbits, or degree of remoteness from the central' (1967: 604). Pike's criteria for central versus marginal actually give prominence to the latter: 'the outer' 'orbits carry the greater communication energy' for 'hearer impact' (1967: 604). Major examples of the outer 'dependent or derived meanings' are 'idiomatic' meaning not 'predictable' from 'the meanings of its parts', and 'metaphorical meaning', along with 'poetry', 'puns', and 'slang' (1967: 601 ff.). Notice here that the marginal surpasses the central in ways reminiscent of the 'foregrounding' described by the Prague structuralists. Hence, what makes a domain of meaning or discourse special is the kind and degree of response and attention it receives in my view, an outlook we should still keep m mind in our search for a conception of 'register' today.

In Firth's work, a possible equivalent of 'register' might be the 'restricted language', which he defined as 'serving a circumscribed field of experience or action' and having 'its own grammar and dictionary' (1957: 124, 87, 98, 105 ff., 112). The emphasis here was on practical method. Such a domain is easier to manage then 'when the linguist' must draw 'abstractions' from 'a whole linguistic universe' comprising 'many specialized languages' and 'different styles' (1968: 30, 97, 118). 'The material is clearly defined: the linguist knows what is on his agenda', and can 'set up ad hoc structures and systems' for 'the field of application' (1968: 106, 116). In fact, once 'the statement of structures and systems provides' 'the anatomy and physiology of the texts', it is 'unnecessary' 'to attempt a structural and systemic account of a language as a whole' (1968: 200).

As domains of 'restricted languages', Firth looked to 'science, technology, politics, commerce', 'industry', 'sport', 'mathematics', and 'meteorology', or to 'a particular form or genre', or to a 'type of work associated with a single author or a type of speech function with its appropriate style' or 'tempo' (1968: 106,98, 112, 118 ff.). To counter the possibly divisive effects of such an outlook, Firth seemed to favour a compromise of sorts: 'linguistics' can regard each 'person' 'as being in command of a constellation of restricted languages, satellite languages' (compare Pike's 'orbits'), but these are 'governed' by 'the general language of the community' (1968: 207f).

Also possibly relevant for the concept of register is Firth's prominent

'REGISTER' IN DISCOURSE STUDIES 9

notion of 'collocations': he suggested 'studying key words, pivotal words, leading words, by presenting them in the company they usually keep' (1968: 106 ff., 113, 182). This 'study' may range between 'general or usual collocations and more restricted technical or personal' ones, between ;normal' and 'idiosyncratic' ones (1957: 195; 1968: 18). At times, the restricted end seems to herald a profusion of varieties: 'characteristic distributions in collocability' can constitute 'a level of meaning in describing the English' of a 'social group or even one person' (1968: 195).

'The study of the usual collocations' resembles that of 'restricted languages' by making 'a precisely stated contribution' to 'the spectrum of descriptive linguistics' and by 'circumscribing the field for further research', e.g., by 'indicating problems in grammar' or aiding 'descriptive lexicography' with 'citations' for 'dictionary definitions' (1957: 195; 1968: 180 ff., 196). We should state 'first the structure of appropriate contexts of situation', 'then the syntactical structure of the texts' and 'then' 'the criteria of distribution and collocation' (1968: 19). Yet Firth repeatedly warned that 'collocation is not to be interpreted as context' (1968: 180, 1957: 195); apparently, he wanted 'collocation' to remain at a more abstract systemic level than that of text and discourse.

2. Propagation by Halliday: dilemmas of linguistics and semantics

It was a pupil of Firth's, Michael Halliday, who, along with his associates, eventually gave currency to the term 'register' as such. According to Halliday, 'the term' 'was first used' for 'text variety by [Thomas Bertraml Reid (1956); the concept was taken up and developed by Jean Ure (Ure and Ellis 1977) and by Halliday et al. (1964), (Halliday 1978: 110). Another source was the work of Basil Bernstein, who used the term 'variant' instead (cf. Bernstein [ed.l 1973).

In Halliday's view, 'the notion of register is at once very simple and very powerful' and 'provides a means of investigating the linguistic foundations of everyday social interaction from an angle that is complementary to the ethnomethodological one' (1978: 31, 62). 'The theory of register' 'attempts to uncover the general principles which govern' the ways 'the language we speak or write varies according to the type of situation' (1978: 32). 'But surprisingly little is yet known about the nature of the variat~on involved, largely because of the difficulty of identifying the controllmg factors' (ibid.).

Though he sees a possible parallel between the notion of what 'the member of a culture typically associates' and Dell Hymes' notion of '''communicative competence"', Halliday evades the latter notion as an 'artificial concept' which 'merely adds an extra level of psychological interpretation to what can be explained more simply in direct sociolinguistic or functional terms' (1978: 32). Halliday's uneasiness about 'psychological interpretation' (as stressed also in his discussion with Parret, cf. Halliday 1978: 38f), presumably influenced by Firth's similar attitude, creates


predictable problems for any conception as complex as 'register', where the 'psychological interpretation' of language users is so essential and where agreement is harder to obtain than about other aspects of a language (see sections 3 and 4).

The central problem is how 'the "register" concept' can 'take account of the processes which link the features of the text' 'to the abstract categories of the speech situation' (1978: 62). The 'original' approach was to define 'register' directly in 'lexicogrammatical terms' (Halliday 1978: 111). For example, Jean Ure (1971) proposed a connection between 'lexical density and register differentiation' where the 'density' was measured by 'rh" proportion of lexical items (content words) to words as a whole' (1978: 32). Such work was typical of the classify-and-count methods that understandably dominated much of linguistics during the absence of more elaborate theories and methods of discourse.

Halliday warns against 'posing the question the wrong way': '''what ~eatures of language are determined by register?'" (1978: 32). Nor would It be fully adequate to ask 'what peculiarities of vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation can be accounted for by reference to situation?' (ibid.). Instead, the really pressing question is 'which kinds of situational factor determine which kinds of selection in the linguistic system?' (ibid.). Stating the question this way is a major step forward, but makes answering it particularly difficult in that we now have, as it were, unknowns on both side of the equation, i.e., both for the situation and for the language.

Another approach to 'register' was to circumscribe it by comparing and contrasting it with 'dialect'. 'Dialect' was defined 'according to user', and 'register' 'according to the use' (Halliday 1978: 110). Also, 'dialects' 'differ in phonetics, phonology, and lexicogrammar, but not in semantics'; 'registers' 'differ in semantics and hence in lexicogrammar and sometimes phonology, as a realization of this' (1978: 35, cf. p. 67). These definitions signal an important dualism in Halliday's work: 'lexicogrammar' differs both for 'dialect' and 'register', but for 'register', 'semantics' is interposed as the controlling factor. We thus encounter such formulations as these: 'register' .is 'the clustering of semantic features according to situation type'; or 'a regIster can be defined as a configuration of semantic resources that the member of a culture typically associates with a situation type' (1978: 68, 111, 123). These formulations do not, I think, necessarily 'point in the direction of a functional semantics' following 'the theories of the Prague school', though Halliday says they do (1978: 63). The role of cultural situations was not prominently worked out in the Prague group's notion of 'functional sentence perspective' (cf. Beaugrande 1992).

Hallidayan argument, on the other hand, insists that 'the features of the te~t' should be 'considered as the realization of semantic patterns', and so thIS holds for 'register' as well (cf. 1978: 62). In his Introduction to Functional Grammar, he says: 'the relation of grammar to semantics' is 'natural not arbitrary, and both are purely abstract systems of coding'; so, 'there is no clear line between' them, and 'functional grammar' is 'pushed in the direction of semantics' (1985: xix, xvii). In Explorations in the Functions of


Language, he says: 'in principle, a grammatical system is an abstract (is as "semantic") as possible given only that it can generate integrated structures', i.e., 'its output can be expressed in terms of functions mapped directly onto others' to yield 'a single structural "shape'" that is 'multiply labeled' (Halliday 1973: 95). The equation of 'semantic' with 'abstract' occurred again when Halliday called for 'register' to be given 'a more abstract definition in semantic terms', rather than 'lexicogrammatical' ones (1978: 111).

Halliday's equation has noteworthy implications. Just as the history of 'general' linguistics has been marked by disputes over how 'semantic' the approach should be, the history of semantics has been riddled with controversies over how 'abstract' the approach should be. Semantics was often dominated by positivist and behaviourist proposals to make it more concrete by tying it to 'real states of affairs', 'features' of 'objects' (like chairs), or 'observed behaviours' (cf. survey in Beaugrande 1988).

Halliday's views are more complex and subtle. He suggests that 'semantic systems' 'relate' to 'grammatical systems' through the 'pre-selection' of 'options' (1973: 98). 'In some instances' we can go from 'semantics' 'directly to the "formal items": to the actual words, phrases, and clauses of the language', with 'no need' for 'grammatical systems and structures' (1973: 83 ff.). But this 'happens only' with 'a closed set of options in a clearly circumscribed social context', e. g., 'a greeting system in middleclass British English' or in a 'closed transaction such as buying a train or bus ticket' (1973: 83 ff.). In genuine 'language, such systems are marginal', 'a small fraction of the total phenomena' among 'much more open' and 'general settings'. Due to 'indeterminacy between the strata', we find not 'one-to-one correspondences' between 'grammar', 'semantics' and 'phonology', but rather 'neutralization and diversification' 'manyto-many' (1973: 82, 93, 56 ff.).

Nonetheless, Halliday retains a conventional provision when he stipulates the 'principle' 'that all categories employed must be clearly "there" in the grammar of the language', 'not set up simply to label differences in meaning' (1985: xx). Without some 'lexicogrammatical reflex', such 'differences' are not 'systemically distinct in the grammar' (ibid.). However firmly 'based on meaning', 'a functional grammar' is 'an interpretation of linguistic forms': 'every distinction' 'every set of options, or "system'" - must 'make some contribution to the form of the wording', i.e., of the 'sequence' of 'syntagm' of 'lexical' and 'grammatical items' (1985: xx, xvii). Such provisions suggest that Halliday too is a bit worried about semantics getting overly 'abstract'. But instead of looking to reality or real objects and behaviours, he sees 'grammar' as the anchor to hold semantics down.

At stake here is a crucial issue in the emergence of 'modern linguistics'. Traditional grammarians had drawn their distinctions on the basis of the formal organization of their own language, or their own dialect of it. Moreover, as Bloomfield complained, 'a good deal of what passes for "logic" or "metaphysics" is merely an incompetent restating of the chief


categories of the philosopher's language' (1933: 270) (a practice which the philosophers associated with Chomsky's 'grammar' were later to demonstrate all too clearly).

What makes modern linguistics distinctive, I think, is the willingness to recognize distinctions as long as they are formally made in any language. This factor suggests why the study of Amerindian and Afro-Asian languages provided such a major impetus: they made it possible and necessary to recognize whole new types of forms and of formal organization. For example, Bloomfield (1933: 175 ff.) contrasts the 'sentence types' of English with those of Menomini and names 'surprise' and 'disappointment' as 'types of sentence' (1933: 175 ff). Here, a virulent 'antimentalist' felt justified in introducing psychological states into his 'grammar' because he saw formal markers for them.

Chomsky and his group, on the other hand, were avowedly mentalist, but were far less inclined than Bloomfield toward the kind of formfunction compromise we just saw in describing Menomini. Instead, they wanted the formal aspects to be foregrounded in principled independence from semantic ones, as well as from psychological states. Since Chomsky's original approach was designed only from English, a formally sparse and frugal language, he was obliged to invent an explosion of 'underlying' forms and structures to nail down the kind of distinctions needed to attain 'formality'. In consequence, he became entrained in a steadily narrowing spiral of underlying formality until language as such disappeared, taking with it much of what Bloomfieldian and Saparian linguistics would have been willing to admit under 'grammar', but which now appeared to be at best 'surface structure' - and of course 'register' (or any similar concept) could have no place either.

As we can readily see, it is not Halliday's predicament that is new, but the solution he favours: to have semantics and grammar linked at every step. The problem of how to keep the two domains linked must of course be raised specifically for every language. Significantly, Halliday's own Introduction is entirely and explicitly constructed on English, as were many of his earlier works, de facto at least, though he started out as a Chinese linguist. However, he left open the prospect that his 'functional grammar' might be a 'general' one, for which he happened to be 'using English as the language of illustration' (1985: xxxiv). A similar approach might work for other languages, and appropriately enough, a 'functional grammar' for Chinese has recently been devised (Li and Thompson 1981), much in Halliday's spirit even if he is not cited there. The otherwise mysterious systems of particles in Chinese become much more tractable when we consider their functions for indicating the status of the message in context (cf. also Beaugrande and Dressier, forthcoming).

Halliday breaks down the 'register' by saying it is 'predicted' or even 'determined' by 'the categories of field, tenor, and mode' (1978: 62, 125). According to one formulation citing John Pearce (in Doughty et al. 1971: 185 ff.), 'field refers to the institutional setting in which a piece of language occurs'; 'tenor refers to the relationship between participants'; and 'mode


refers to the channel of communication adopted' (1978: 33). In Halliday's own diagram, however, 'field' is the 'type of social action', 'tenor' is the 'role relationships', and 'mode' is the 'symbolic organization' (1978: 35). Later, we read that the three concepts are 'related respectively to the ideational, interpersonal and textual components of the semantic system' (1978: 125). 'Mode' gets special consideration: it is 'the rhetorical channel with its associated strategies'; it is 'reflected in linguistic patterns', but 'has its origin in the social structure'; and 'the social structure' 'generates the semiotic tensions and rhetorical styles and genres that express them' (cf. Barthes 1970) (1978: 113). Also, 'mode covers roughly Hymes' channel, key, and genre' (1978: 62).

Once more, we have difficulties determining exactly what the status and designations of Halliday's terms may be. 'Field, tenor, and mode' were evidently proposed as categories for describing situations rather than language per se, but the inconsistencies, especially in regard to 'mode', reflect the usual perplexities of making 'social' categories correspond with language forms ('linguistic patterns'). Notice also that 'stylistic' and 'rhetorical' parameters are introduced, but their valence with respect to 'register' is not clarified. The 'social' categories are naturally far broader, and I doubt that we can insist, as Halliday did for 'semantics' (see above), that 'every distinction' must 'make some contribution to the form of the wording' in terms of 'lexical' and 'grammatical items'. In fact, Halliday's claim is a bit weaker, but still quite demanding: 'field, tenor, and mode' can 'make explicit the means whereby the observer can derive' the 'systematic norms governing the particulars of the text' (1978: 62). Thus, while 'deriving the situation from the text', 'the participant' or 'the observer' can 'supply the relevant information that is lacking' (ibid.).

3. Recent trends

In terms of prospects for further work, we have two opposed options. The first option is to widen the scope by examining a variety of languages in terms of 'those features' of 'functional grammar' that are 'explicitly claimed as universal', notably the 'hypothesis' that the three '''metafunc-tions" , 'the textual', 'the ideational', and 'the interpersonal' 'organize' 'the content systems' 'in all languages' (Halliday 1985: xxxiv). This option would be helpful if these 'metafunctions' are indeed 'related' to the three categories of 'register' (see section 2), but as far as I can discover, this option has not formed the major part of Hallidayan research. Perhaps one reason for this hesitancy is that earlier work on 'universals' was typically naive and premature. In fact, if we read Chomsky's Aspects closely, we may suspect the real attraction of 'universals' lay in the argument that they 'need not be stated in the grammar' of individual 'languages' but 'only in general linguistic theory as part of definition of the notion "human language'" (compare Chomsky 1965: 6, 35 ff., 112, 117, 144, 168, 225). So they were in effect one more dumping ground,


alongside 'surface structure', 'performance', and so on, for putting aside messy or intractable issues, notably - again, Aspects reveals this clearly -'semantics', which was handed over to the 'universals' pretty much wholesale (see Chomsky 1965: 160).

Moreover, the first option leads away from the concreteness that characterizes the Hallidayan approach and that motivated the notion of 'register' in the first place. To maintain that anyone particular 'register' is 'universal' would strain the audacity of even the most hand-waving linguists, since 'register' is by its very definition firmly embedded in cultural situations. The overall fact that registers differ might be a universal, but to say so is simply to argue that 'register' is a generally justified concept. That cultural situations fall into different types is hardly open to serious dispute: these types are what culture is all about. Nor would many people deny that language and culture influence each other, though some might say (and have said) this influence is not the concern of linguistics.

Hence, it is the second option which Hallidayan linguistics would be likely to pursue and has in fact done. This is a return to a narrower scope by developing 'a grammar' for the 'analysis' and 'interpretation of texts of a broad variety of registers in modern English' (Halliday 1985: x, xv, xx). By his own reckoning, Halliday's 'account' has already served both 'practical' and 'theoretical' purposes' such as probing 'the relation between language and 'culture'; 'comparing registers of functional varieties of English'; 'studying socialization' and 'functional variation'; and 'analysing text, spoken and written', notably 'spontaneous conversation' (1985: xv, xviii, xxx).

My impression is that in most of this work the practical has run well ahead of the theoretical just the converse of formal (Chomskyan) grammar. A decisive case here is precisely the concept of 'register'. Its practical value is beyond dispute, but Halliday's own central theoretical book so far backs away from it in a somewhat disappointing way: the Introduction to Functional Grammar does not 'go into questions of register structure', which 'we are only beginning to be able to characterize' (1985: 290, xxxv). Halliday is content to remark in passing that 'register' is a key domain for examining how 'elements', 'configurations', 'collocations', and 'the patterning of clause themes throughout a text' may 'vary'; how 'a text' might 'deploy the resource of cohesion'; and how to give an 'account of English semantics' (1985: 318, 313, 315, 372, ix). He assumes that 'a speaker of the language' 'knows' 'how likely a particular word or group or phase is' 'in any given register'; but the 'treatment of probabilities' is also 'outside the scope' of the 'grammar' (1985: xxii; cf. Halliday 1973: 114). We thus cannot evaluate his view that 'registers select and foreground different options, but do not normally have a special grammar'; yet 'some registers do', such as 'newspaper headlines' (1985: 372; cf. 1985: 373-77). The reference to 'narrative, transactional, expository', and so on (1985: 372, ix, 318, i.a.) is not very illuminating since these are not 'registers', but modes which may vary widely within one register as well as from one register to another.

-


The 'restricted languages' proposed by Firth (section 1) were construed by Halliday as 'extreme cases' of 'register' (1978: 35). Even so, Halliday acknowledges that they make up 'much of the speech' of 'daily life' in 'contexts where the options are limited and the meaning potential' is 'closely specifiable' and 'explainable' (1973: 25 ff.). Exploring them might 'throw light on certain features in the internal organization of language' (1973: 27). Halliday lists 'games', 'greetings', 'musical scores', 'weather reports', 'recipes', 'cabled messages', and so on, along with 'routines of the working day' like 'buying and selling' (1973: 25 ff., 63). 'The language is not restricted as a whole' in such domains and 'the transactional meanings are not closed', but 'definable patterns' and 'options' do 'come into play', e.g., for 'beginning and ending' a 'conversation on the telephone' (1973: 26).

In discourse analysis and text linguistics, such issues have been typically treated as a matter of 'types' of discourse or text. The discourse analysts like Longacre and Grimes were chiefly interested in conducting fieldwork and realized that, however strong the allegiance of 'mainstream' linguistics might be to the abstract, 'isolated' sentences, the data on otherwise littlestudied languages had to be extracted from discourse, and there were no a priori grounds for telling how general or specific any body of data might be unless its relation to discourse types was taken into consideration. In the work on twenty-four Philippine languages of Luzon, Mindanao, and Palawan, Longacre and thirty-two colleagues from the Summer Institute of Linguistics identified 'discourse structures' in types they called 'narrative', 'procedural', 'expository', 'hortatory', and 'explanatory' (Longacre et al. 1970). These notions were set up because the group found evidence that language structures correlated with discourse types, and that the correlation was clearly significant, not merely for the data analysis, but also for the discourse participants themselves. The point was therefore not so much to offer a 'universal' or complete typology of discourse, but to show that at least some types can be reliably identified in groups of languages and cultures. Much the same point can be made for the studies by the Grimes group (see Grimes 1975, 1978), where the main focus fell on 'narratives'.

In its early stages at least, 'text linguistics' hardly engaged in the kind of fieldwork the discourse analysts were doing. Most work was done closer to home, mainly on English, German, French, Czech and Russian, and proceeded by the usual methods of grammatical analysis originally developed for sentences, with minor modifications. Since linguists were accustomed to setting up schemes of types, the same principle was readily extended to texts, especially when the text was seen merely as a 'unit' or 'level above the sentence' (e.g. Heger 1976). Traditionally, a main attraction of the sentence was the ease grammarians had sorting it into clear-cut types - declarative, interrogative, imperative and exclamatory. The recognition that such classifying might be quite a different matter for texts had to wait upon the hesitant realization that texts were fundamentally different entites from sentences (Beaugrande 1980).

A conference on text types (,Textsorten') had been held in Germany in


1972 to find 'differentiating criteria from a linguistic point of view' (proceedings in Guelich and Raible reds] 1972). On the whole, the results of the conference were meagre: mainly just a general realization that the question was far more complex than prevailing 'linguistic points of view' were equipped to handle. If we follow through the arguments brought forward by Pike, Longacre and Grimes, then linguistic abstractions, such as units, features, and structures, are at least as much a product of discourse or text types as the other way around. Linguistics - especially the 'generative' kind - has been a bit glib and naive in jumping from data sets to the language as a whole and skipping over the types as theoretically unimportant (or, what is more to the point, unmanageable).

One text linguist, Siegfried Schmidt (1978), contemplated two methods. Either we start with the intuitively given types and try to build a theory or model for them; or else we set up the theory or model and then try to deduce, construct or reconstruct the types from there. Today, when the weakness and diminishing returns of deductive linguistics have been generally realized, the consensus runs clearly in favour of the first approach, the more inductive one. We pick one or more types that seem to be given in social practice and attempt to systematize some salient characteristics. The most active field here today is 'language for special purposes' (LSP), which has become one of the most conspicuous and successful areas of text linguistics, discourse analysis, and applied linguistics (cf. Hoffmann 1987; Beaugrande and DressIer, forthcoming).

Even so, neither text linguistics nor LSP claims to have more than a very rough and ready classification of text or discourse types. Few people in those fields today hold high hopes that a rigorous typology will appear soon, and fewer still would insist that research cannot proceed without one. On the contrary, we have more than enough work to do if we are to systematize readily accessible text types. And in general, linguists today are less convinced that the goal of linguistics is the construction of abstract typologies of any kind, nor the creation of abstract systems of formal features or rules divorced from social or practical application. The surviving, unregenerate formalists have turned to computer programming, but even there, special-purpose domains have become a centre of attention, witness the fact that expert knowledge systems are by far the most dominant concern in 'artificial intelligence' in recent years.

A further trend of decisive importance has emerged in 'discourse processing'. This research undertakes to show not merely that certain types can be found to correlate with language structure, but that these structures are relevant for the cognitive and communicative processes people actually perform in discourse. An eminent case is the 'strategic' model of van Dijk and Kintsch, which cites 'register' alongside 'style', 'text type' and 'communicative context' as factors affecting the 'selection of appropriate lexical items to express the concepts of the propositions' (1983: 292). As a central notion, van Dijk and Kintsch postulate 'superstructures': 'typical schemata' for conventional text forms', which 'consist of conventional categories, often hierarchically organized', 'assign further structures' and


'overall organization to discourse', and 'facilitate generating, remembering, and reproducing' (1983: 16, 54, 57, 92, 104f, 189, 222, 236 ff., 242, 245, 275, 308, 336, 343). These 'superstructures are not merely theoretical constructs of linguistic or rhetorical models' but also 'feature in cognitive models' as 'relevant' 'units' (1983: 237). 'During comprehension', they are 'strategically' 'assigned on the basis of textual' 'information, i.e., bottomup', yet also create 'assumptions about the canonical structure' and applicable 'schema', i.e., 'top-down' (1983: 237, 105). The 'superstructures provide the overall form of a discourse and may be made explicit' as 'categories defining' the 'type' (1983: 189, 235 ff.). They are 'acquired during socialization' with 'discourse types'; 'language users know' the 'categories' and 'schemata' 'implicitly' or even 'explicitly' and 'make hypotheses' about them 'when we read' (1983: 57, 92).

Although here, too, the details are not worked out for any large spectrum of types, the findings do indicate that we should enrich the mainly sociological approach proposed by Halliday and his associates with a psychological one, which (as we saw in section 2) he rejected. The compromise will be unavoidable because the social manifestations and situation types by themselves cannot provide all the criteria we need, and because the criteria they do provide require interpretation. This interpretation cannot be left up to the linguists or analysts alone, but must be traced in terms of the operations people in general carry out when processing discourse types.

Admittedly, the cognitive and psychological methods are not likely to produce any comprehensive formal typology. Experimenters are content if they can isolate at least some crucial differences between pairs of fairly uncontested types, such as narrative and expository (see also Freedle and Hale 1979). The project of isolating all the types and stipulating all the processes that may and may not apply to each is certainly quite remote and may remain impracticable for the foreseeable future.

4. Future prospects

The trends I have outlined indicate that the concept of 'register' still needs to be reassessed. To begin with, we should grant what has generally been conceded for the types addressed - discourse analysis, text linguistics, and discourse processing - that we are dealing with phenomena that cut across the usual schemes of 'levels' or 'components' and that involve far more than 'purely linguistic' factors. A register can at most be an open system, not a closed one or even a tidy one in which (to paraphrase a Saussurian formulation about language) 'everything holds everything else in place' (un systeme ou tout se tient). When we select a register to investigate, we must not expect or demand that we should list all the aspects it must have, and still less all the aspects it must not have. Instead, we must be content to postulate a register when a representative group of language users agrees that certain aspects are typical and predictable. The occurrence of a


non-typical aspect does not undermine the register or suddenly transpose the discourse into a different register, but it will be likely to attract notice and to elicit some response.

By this line of argument, a 'register' is essentially a set of beliefs, attitudes or expectations about what is or is not likely to seem appropriate and be selected in certain kinds of contexts. This explication may seem vague, but the phenomenon itself is inherently fuzzy. Like the 'superstructures' posited by van Dijk and Kinstch, registers are 'acquired during socialization' with 'discourse types' (cf. van Dijk and Kinstch 1983: 57). Registers 'may be made explicit' as 'categories defining' the 'type' (cf. 1983: 189, 235 ff., 92), but they usually are not; and in practice people often command registers that they could not describe very well, let alone justify by means of a theory. For example, virtually everyone knows that certain registers they use with family and close friends will not do in situations calling for written examinations or official documents; but how people know this and exactly how they carry it into practice is a predominantly indeterminate and intuitive matter.

Nonetheless, future work must include having everyday speakers describe the registers they know and the ways they use them. This kind of fieldwork will not provide all the data we need to understand how registers arise or how they are put to work. But we urgently need a more general perspective than anyone linguist or school of linguists can bring to bear by attacking the problem among themselves.

Obviously, we need to clarify the social implications of registers. Solidarity is one important factor: the use of a particular register preferred among a group with which one wishes to be identified. Conversely, dominance is important when a register is deployed to signal that one speaker or group has the right to assert priority over those who do not command the register, or at least do not command it as well.

We can therefore postulate a gradient between insider and outsider functions of registers in use. In this sense, command over a wide range of registers is a major implement of social power, and command of only a few is a typical drawback among the disadvantaged. In view of this fact, the lack of explicit attention to matters of register, especially in the educational system, is an effectual contributor to the maintenance of social inequality (Beaugrande and Dressier, forthcoming).

In schooling, the issue of register is usually treated on a purely negative basis. Learners are alerted when they have committed a violation of register, but are given fairly little systematic assistance in developing or diversifying their range of registers. This neglect is all the more grievous in that the entry to specialized fields of knowledge, particularly to prestigious ones like science and technology, depends materially on commanding the appropriate register. Yet even institutions that explicitly recognize the importance of the issue by building up programmes like 'writing across the curriculum' seldom offer courses of study in, say, 'the register of physics', or 'the discourse of computer science'. Only the learners whose social background has already provided them with a wide


command of registers are well-equipped to succeed, while the others tend to fall further behind than ever.

Science and technology also provide useful illustrations of domains wherein each register is associated with a corpus of prestigious or authoritative texts. The acquisition and skilled use of the strategies for the register decides who will be admitted to the domain in terms of who is authorized to contribute to that corpus as a profession. Yet authorities are understandably reluctant to acknowledge how far their status depends not just on 'knowing the facts' or carrying out research or design, but on producing and using texts about facts and on reporting or discussing research or design (a consideration Firth was fond of raising). Perhaps too, the authorities lack an explicit awareness of their own textual strategies and fail to appreciate (or to sympathize with) the problems confronting the outsider or the initiate.

On the other hand, we also need to clarify the linguistic implications of registers. It remains to be seen whether a theoretical framework can be found and developed that could subsume and situate already established practices, and if so, along what lines. This question can be broken down into several, and even then, answers are difficult to come by.

One major question is where every instance of language in discourse belongs to some register. Few linguists would want to commit themselves to such a strong assertion, because the generality and 'abstractness' they claim for their theories and models would be endangered. Besides, it would no longer be admissable to present samples, say of 'English sentences', unless we also identified what register they belong to. In this regard, Halliday would be probably no different from anyone else working in 'general linguistics'. If the Introduction is a reliable indicator, he wants his 'functional grammar' to extend across all kinds of registers.

The alternative question would be whether only certain instances of language should be considered specific to some register. Here, we immediately confront the formidable problem of finding the criteria for telling which instances are and are not of such a nature. Halliday's statements are not utterly clear regarding this problem. If he tells us a 'register' is 'a' configuration of semantic resources that the member of a culture typically associates with a situation type' (1978: 123), he seems to be invoking some 'psychological interpretation' of the type he elsewhere repudiated (see section 2). If, on the other hand, he depicts a 'register' as 'a cluster of associated features having a greater-than-random (or rather, greater than predicted by their unconditioned probabilities) tendency to co-occur' (1988: 162), he seems to raise the prospect of deciding the matter by means of statistics. But he says the 'treatment of probabilities' is 'outside the scope' of his 'grammar', and he points out that 'the probability of such terms occurring in the discourse is also dependent on what' the speakers 'are doing at the time' (1985: xxii, 1978: 33). So we cannot expect to get the issue under control merely by statistical counts, such as Ure's 'lexical density' method (see section 2), because total frequencies may not be relevant for what seems likely or


expected in concrete discourse situations, and may not yield the criteria we need to identify a register.

A more viable approach to 'the notion of register' would be to correlate the issue of 'probability' with some 'form of prediction' and to ask: 'what exactly do we need to know about the social context in order to make such predictions?' (Halliday 1978: 32). So far, however, Halliday's illustrations - again quite typical of linguistics - are commonsensical and intuitive, or merely assertive, and the 'we' in his 'we need to know' does not include the general public or does so only by implication. For example, he says: 'by and large, "scientific English" is a recognizable category, and any speaker of English for whom it falls within the domain of experience knows it when he sees or hears it' (1988: 162). Yet this 'recognition' is precisely what we still need to establish: not merely that 'any speaker' with 'experience' can do so - already a stronger claim than we have empirical evidence for at the moment but by what standards and criteria. Halliday bypasses 'the problem by taking samples he considers clear instances of the register and relating the development of clausal strategies t6 the trends in science itself, for instance, the trend from speculation to experimentation, when 'doing and thinking' were 'brought together' (1988: 175).

Halliday's warning, cited in section 2, stresses that we should make 'situational factors' our point of orientation and work from there toward 'selections in the linguistic system'. But the speakers of the language might well be working just the other way: by picking out incidental features, such as the 'peculiarities of vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation' Halliday does not consider really decisive, and using them to set up hypothesis or conclusions about what the situation (or the register) is likely to be.

We thus need to make allowance for distinctions among speakers in terms of their specialization. The way a trained analyst like Halliday recognizes a register is doubtless different from the way naive language users do, especially non-scientists or quasi-scientists, to say nothing of the decorative use of 'scientific language' for special purposes such as advertising. As a member of editorial boards, I frequently have to review submitted manuscripts for which the handling of the applicable register is a conspicuous problem. The most frequent tendency is to salute the register without really using it, that is, to introduce specialized terms in order to show that one is or aspires to be an insider, but then to either apply the terms in vague and obscure ways, or to leave them aside in the subsequent discussion. In addition, many writers seem to believe that the 'scientific register' requires things to be stated in the most complicated and difficult manner. So when I approve a manuscript, I often edit it heavily to enhance clarity and readability and to insist that special terms either be used appropriately or replaced with ordinary language.

How may interventions are accepted by the authors I usually don't find out, but the issue is doubtless sensitive, because the tendencies I rebuke may form part of the author's own self-image as 'a scientist'. The editors, however, seem to agree with me, since they keep sending me more manuscripts, and frequently the ones they think 'need some rewriting'.


Sometimes I have completely revised a manuscript which editors had already accepted on the basis of the author's professional standing, but which they couldn't bear to print in such clumsy or opaque styles.

Though this evidence is merely anecdotal, it does suggest two points. The first point is that 'register' is evidently not just an issue beset by 'mixed or borderline cases' (Halliday 1988: 162), but a fundamentally indeterminate domain, directly subject to the current motives and aspirations of both potential and actual users, of both outsiders and insiders. I find a wide variation in what is evidently judged to belong to the 'scientific register' and its subdomains ('psychology', 'educational research', 'linguistics', etc.), and in my view, a good deal of it is inappropriate for the goal of effective communication, as opposed to the goal, say, of laying claim to prestige or 'insidership' for the author.

The second point is that even established insiders do not agree about their own register, or do so at best in holistic and intuitive ways. Odd biases get carried over not from science, but from quirkly handbooks on grammar and style, such as that the 'scientific register' disallows the use of the first person singular, and perhaps the second person as well. Imaginary 'rules' no professional linguist or grammarian seriously upholds appear suddenly in the judgments of editors and copy-editors for scientific publications. In my role as author, I have had many skirmishes over this.

And yet the 'scientific register' is typically picked out as a prize example and taken at face value much as we saw Halliday doing. If even that register is so disputatious, what about others? Is there such a register as 'unscientific English', as the prescriptive responses of copy-editors seem to imply? Or, is the 'scientific' actually a very loose agglomerate of registers, divided not merely for the various fields, such as those for physics, psychology, and so on, but in still finer detail for particular professional organizations, proceedings, journals, roundtables, and so on?

It is plainly time to re-open the case for 'register' in the broadest possible terms. This time, we should be keenly aware that demands for generality and abstractness involve strategic trade-offs, of which 'normal science' tends to focus only on the more favourable side. The abstraction sought across the board - in psychology, linguistics and philosophy, especially logic - has always been a two-edged sword. The same contextual factors which control everyday processing and communication and thus make things simpler are typically viewed by researchers as additive and unmanageable complexities that make things more complicated. Therefore (to stay with the metaphor) the 'sword' that is wielded to clear the field cuts away the vital supports needed to keep the issue securely under control.

Halliday's 'functional grammar' thus already marks a great step forward by showing a richer range of factors whereby the organization of discourses, and of clauses in particular, is affected by the current status of the knowledge involved: its relative degrees of importance, newness, and topicality (or 'thematicity'). However, Halliday has hesitated to state whether or how these factors apply across different registers and whether


or how far they are modified. The really thorny task of determining how this might be the case is only just beginning to be undertaken. As my illustrations for' scientific English' indicated, the handling is still a bit too facile and speculative, and even the seemingly 'obvious' registers can be disturbingly indeterminate.

An elaborate combination of strategies will be needed to get a handle on the issue of 'register'. Undoubtedly, we need to consult in great depth and detail with people who, by some reasonably secure measure, are recognized as skilled users of a given register. These experts should act in several roles. First, they can be observed giving advice to their students or other initiates on register use. Second, they can report their own prior exper~ences as students or initiates trying to enter the domain, and espeCially on any problems encountered along the way. Third, they could respond to or rate the appropriateness of sample texts which are systematically varied along whatever lines are believed to be involved in the register, including lines they may themselves suggest. These three uses of register experts would do much to fill in the gap which now exists between the intuitive appeal or plausibility of the notion of register and the body of evidence needed to give the notion some socially documented substance.

Another tactic would be to gather data which might help to indicate what registers can be identified in the first place, and if so, by what means. I have been applying this tactic for some time by directing my own students on numerous small projects of this kind. In some cases, the students were themselves accredited users in the register, as for the projects on the discourse in pool-hall gambling or in a certain 'fraternity' house, or the social 'small-talk' among users of university VAX computer system ('YAXers'). Here, the students had the advantage of being familiar with usmg the register, but in no case did they have a very clear idea of the factors involved before the actual data-gathering began.

The controlling influence of the social situation was certainly as powerful as Halliday or Firth could wish. Pool-hall betting is illegal in Florida and therefore requires a register outsiders will not understand. The fraternity house had made a point of developing a register not even known to other fraternities, though more for motives of upholding exclusivity than shielding illegality. The dialogue among VAXers, who cannot see or hear each other, reflects a shift in social pressures, including the freedom to either reveal or conceal oneself without the usual worries about possible consequences.

The findings showed, as might be expected, a characteristic mix of special lexical items with specialized strategies covering whole discourses. In pool-betting, the turns of the betting negotiation - to establish the type of game, the rules, the handicaps, and the amount of money at stake -were found to be carried out in almost every recorded case, though specific words were not usually prescribed except for the game names, e.g., 'nineball' versus 'snooker', which themselves said a good deal about the kind of player and the amount of money likely to be involved. In the 'frat',

L


special terms clustered around activities which in the American middleclass environment are not so much talked about, such as drinking alcohol (e.g., 'turbo-slam', a way to drink beer upside down), having casual sex (e.g., 'to bust'), and stealing (e.g., to 'schwartz' or to 'ninja'). The V AXers were most clearly characterized by their choices of special names and descriptions for themselves, borrowing heavily on science fiction and popular movies and television.

In other projects, the students were outsiders, as in the study of prison discourse by a student whose husband happened to be a sports director in a Florida prison. This method has the advantage that special factors of the register stand out by virtue of their seeming unfamiliarity. My student was 'shocked' at the extent of what she called 'obscene language', though how far this aspect was due to the hostility the inmates sensed in the situation and how far it might have reflected the dialects of the predominantly lower-class inmates could not be determined from the sample, and we did not use direct interviews to gather the data. Aside from special terms like 'e.o.s.' (,ee-oh-ess') instead of 'end of sentence', higher-level strategies included thematic attempts to impress other inmates with claims about what one was or did in the outside world, matched up with numerous blunt formulae showing disbelief; and formulations for maintaining that one went to jail for some unjust accusation or mistake in the legal system, rather than for some real fault or crime of one's own.

Whether we have solid theoretical justification for maintaining that the data gathered in such fieldwork belong to or even constitute a 'register' can of course be debated. The same question must continually be raised for any research concerned with 'register', since society itself has no exact criteria for deciding what the necessary and sufficient conditions of a register must be. The vital criterion is how the participants in situation types view their discourse and how far they in fact adapt their general discourse strategies to fit the type, and both factors were evidently operative in the domains we studied.

This twofold strategy of working directly with actually accredited insiders on the one hand while doing indirect grassroots fieldwork among presumed insiders on the other hand can offset the trade-off I cited between abstraction versus control. The insiders can describe how they in practice fit their own discourse to a register and vice versa. The fieldworkers can strive to notice any aspects that seem special or specific and hence potentially relevant for a register. I suspect that we will still have a good deal of indeterminacy in the data, somewhat along the lines of centres versus 'orbits', 'margins', or 'satellites' envisioned by linguists like Pike and Firth (section 1). And we will probably find more registers and more shadings within registers than we would like, especially variations which do not show up reliably in lexicon or grammar as Halliday stipulated for his approach (section 2).

In return, however, we stand to gain a firmer empirical base for treating linguistic data at large, and for deciding how wide our claims should be. We have, I fear, been much too eager to make wider claims than were


really justified by the materials we had at hand. A more comprehensive engagement with the notion of register can materially brighten the future of language study not merely as a factory for turning out formalisms and sentence diagrams, but as a participant in broad social research and education programmes.

References

Barthes, Roland (1970), 'L'ancienne rhetorique', Communications 16. Beaugrande, Robert de (1980), Text, Discourse, and Process, Norwood, N.]., Ablex. Beaugrande, Robert de (1988), 'Semantics and text meaning: Retrospects and

prospects', Journal of Semantics 5, 89-121. Beaugrande, Robert de (1992), 'The heritage of functional sentence perspective for

text linguistics', Linguistica Pragiensa 34, 1-2, 2-26 and 55-86. Beaugrande, Robert de and DressIer, Wolfgang (forthcoming), A New Introduction

to the Study of Text and Discourse, London: Longmans. Bernstein, Basil (ed.) (1973), Applied Studies Towards a Sociology of Language: Primary

Socialization, Language, and Education, London, University College Research Centre.

Bloomfield, Leonard (1933), Language, New York, Holt. Chomsky, Noam (1965), Aspects of the Theory of Syntax, Cambridge, MIT Press. Dijk, Teun van and Walter Kintsch (1983), Strategies of Discourse Comprehension, New

York, Academic. Doughty, Peter, Pearce, John and Thorton, Geoffrey (1971), Language in Use,

London, Arnold. Firth, John Rupert (1930), Speech, London, Benn. Firth, John Rupert (1937), Tongues of Men, London, Watts. Firth, John Rupert (1957), Papers in Linguistics 1934-1951, London, Oxford. Firth, John Rupert (1968), Selected Papers of JR. Firth 1952-1959, London,

Longmans. Freedle, Roy and Hale, Gordon (1979), 'Acquisition of comprehension schemata

for expository prose by a transfer of a narrative schema', in Roy Freedle (ed.) New Directions in Discourse Processing, Norwood, Ablex, 121-136.

Ghadessy, Mohsen (ed.) (1988), Registers of Written English, London, Pinter. Grimes, Joseph (1975), The Thread of Discourse, The Hague, Mouton. Grimes, Joseph (ed.) (1978), Papers on Discourse, Arlington: Summer Institute of

Linguistics. Guelich, Elisabeth and Raible, Wolfgang (eds) (1972), Textsorten, Frankfurt,

Athenaeum. Halliday, Michael Alexander Kirkwood (1973), Explorations in the Functions of

Language, London, Arnold. Halliday, Michael Alexander Kirkwood (1978), Language as a Social Semiotic,

London, Arnold. Halliday, Michael Alexander Kirkwood (1985), An Introduction to Functional Grammar,

London, Edward Arnold. Halliday, Michael Alexander Kirkwood (1988), 'On the language of physical

science', in Ghadessy (ed.), 162-78. Halliday, Michael Alexander Kirkwood et al. (1964), The Linguistic Sciences and

Language Teaching, London, Longmans. Hasan, R. (1973), 'Code, register, and social dialect', in Bernstein (ed.).


Heger, Klaus (1976), Monem, Wort, Satz und Text, Tuebingen, Niemeyer. Hoffman, Lothar (1987), Kommunikationsmittel Fachsprache, Berlin, Akademie-Verlag. Li, Charles and Thompson, Sandra Annear (1981), Mandarin Chinese: A Functional

Riference Grammar, Berkeley, University of California Press. Longacre, Robert et al. (1970), Discourse, Paragraph, and Sentence Structure in Selected

Philippine Languages, Santa Ana, Summer Institute of Linguistics. Pike, Kenneth (1967), Language in Relation to a Unified Theory of the Structure of Human

Behaviour, The Hague: Mouton. Reid, Thomas Bertram (1956), 'Linguistics, structuralism, philology', Archivum

Linguisticum 8.

Sapir, Edward (1921), Language, New York, Harcourt Brace and World. Saussure, Ferdinand de (1916), Cours de linguistique generale, Lausanne, Payot. Schmidt, Siegfried (1978), 'Some problems of communicative text theories', in

Wolfgang DressIer (ed.), Trends in Text Linguistics, New York, De Gruyter, 47-60.

Ure Jean (1971), 'Lexical density and register discourse formation', in Perren, G.E., and Trim, ].L.M. (eds), Applications of Linguistics, Cambridge, CUP.

Ure, Jean and Ellis, Jeffrey (1977), 'Register in descriptive linguistics and linguistic sociology', in U ribe-Villegas, Oscar (ed.), Issues in Sociolinguistics, The Hague, Mouton.

2 The specification of a text: register, genre and language teaching Helen Leckie- Tarry *

Process and product

In a functional theory of language, analysts are not just interested in what language is, but why language is; not just what language means, but how language means (Birch 1989: 1).

In this chapter I propose that an understanding of language, and the teaching of that language, must take into account not only the nature of the finished product, the text, but also the proce~ses by whIch lang~age ~r text is produced and interpreted. One of the major ways of explonng thls is by developing more delicate theoretical and practical accounts of register and genre. To that end I have three preliminary, but principal, concerns. One the FUNCTIONAL role of text in society. Two, the INTERTEXTUAL

role ~f the relationship between texts, both in terms of their social functions and in terms of their linguistic similarities and differences. Three, the IDENTIFYING role of specifying texts, spoken and written, in terms of both their social functions and their linguistic structures.

To specify, for example, the identifying features of the registers of written English from those of spoken English, it is essential to have a commonly accepted basis for comparison. In the past, discussions .of w~itten literary texts, for example, were traditionally based on the specIficatIOn

* Helen Leckie-Tarry obtained a BA in Latin and History and a Post Graduate Diploma in Education from the University of Melbourne; a First Class Honours Degree in Communication Studies from Murdoch University and her Ph.D, Register: A Functional Linguistic Theory,

was awarded posthumously in April 1992 following her death in October 1991. From 1974 she taught English as a Second Language in both W.A.I.T. and the Tafe system, as well as

tutoring part-time in linguistics at Murdoch University. Helen Leckie-Tarry was an exemplary student and a scholar of immense capabilities and

insight, and she leaves in her work, as a legacy to the world of learning that she loved so

much, an outstanding contribution of original thinking.

THE SPECIFICATION OF A TEXT 27

of genre. Discussions of non-literary and spoken texts are a rather more recent phenomenon, and such texts have received little generic attention, but, particularly within systemic functional linguistics, have been included within register studies.

More recently, both concepts have been elaborated so that the terms 'register' and 'genre' appear at times to be of equal importance in the analysis of written and spoken, literary and non-literary texts. 'Genre', particularly with the work of some Australian systemic linguists, has assumed an important place within functional linguistics, a place which might, at one time, seem to have been firmly, and exclusively, reserved by 'register' .

This paper is a discussion of some of the theoretical changes and developments that have been taking place in register and genre studies in the last few years, particularly within the context of functional linguistics and its application in the language teaching classroom. In the ESL classroom, the teaching of the registers of written English is broadly contained within the more specific areas of EAP (English for Academic Purposes) or ESP (English for Specific Purposes), which place a particular emphasis on the language of formal expository prose.

It is not a co-incidence that the genres of casual conversation on the one hand and expository prose on the other have been associated with spoken and written language respectively (Tannen, 1985: 129).

In order to teach students how to operate in an academic context, they must know the language of English academic texts, and this in turn will involve developing in them an understanding of how academic texts function in society; how academic texts are produced; how academic discourse relates to the English language as a whole, and how registerially specific are the linguistic structures of academic discourse.

We may assume that with all natural languages the speakers are able to adapt themselves verbally to different situations. This is a fundamental assumption and may be said to be part of the 'the theory of register'. But how far these kinds of verbally appropriate behaviour are recognized consciously by the native speaker, or how far he (sic) merely responds intuitively, and how far the contrasts are readily perceived by linguists may vary from language to language and pose problems of linguistic description (Essex, 1978: 54).

Students of language need to develop a conscious recogmtIOn of the mechanisms of adaptation, and a conscious recognition of the differences between these mechanisms from one language to another. For language teachers to develop this recognition in their students, the teachers themselves need 'a model that shows systematically how text is related to context' (Martin et al, 1987: 63), and this model must be of such a kind that it may be effectively applied to classroom use.

28 HELEN LECKIE-TARRY

Much has been done towards developing models which relate text to context. One of the most influential is that of Halliday (1978: 142) who believes that the question is 'one of characterizing the context of situation in appropriate terms in terms which will reveal the systematic relationship between language and the environment. This involves some form of theoretical construction that relates the situation simultaneously to the text, to the linguistic system, and to the social system.' This emphasis on the relations between the linguistic and the social is an important one, because without 'immediate and direct relations to the social context, the forms and functions of language are not fully explicable' (Kress and Hodge 1979: 13). And it is here that an important 'latter-day' Hallidayan development has taken place. In the early Hallidayan literature, descriptions of 'the social system' concentrate, for the most part, on an analysis of the context of situation; more recently, descriptions of 'social context' focus more strongly on the broader 'culture' which is seen as 'a homogeneous entity uniting a harmonious society' (Kress and Hodge 1979: 13). A language then is a 'system of categories and rules based on fundamental principles and assumptions about the world' (1979: 5). So close is the bond between language and its social context that 'these principles and assumptions are not related to or determined by thought: they are thought .... Such assumptions are embodied in language, learnt through language, and reinforced in language use' (1979: 5). This 'systematically organized presentation of reality' is now generally understood to be 'ideology', which is built into language at the deepest, hence unconscious, level (1979: 15).

It is this complex system of linguistic, social, cultural and ideological relationships between text and the various levels of context that must be accounted for by any theory of language, and its consequent application to language teaching. The exploration of these relationships was, for some thirty years or so, considered the province of the theory and study of register; more recently it has become the province also of theory of genre. Both have much to offer in revealing the nature of the relationships, and as a consequence I examine both in some detail.

Register

A theory of register aims to 'uncover the general principles which govern [the variation in situation types], so that we can begin to understand what situational factors determine what linguistic features' (Halliday 1978: 32). In other words, theories of register, according to this position, aim to propose relationships between language Junction, (determined by situational or societal factors), and language Jorm. .' .

The term 'register' first came into general currency m the SIxtIes. According to Halliday, it was first used by Reid in 1956 and later developed by Ure (Ure 1968, Ellis and Ure 1969). He himself, in 1964, described register as 'a variety according to use, in the sense that each speaker has a range of varieties and chooses between them at different


times', to distinguish the term from dialect, which is 'a variety according to user, in the sense that each speaker uses one variety and uses it all the time' (Halliday, MacIntosh and Strevens 1964: 77).

Hence this concept of register has been seen by Halliday as bound to a particular situation.

When we observe language actIVIty in the various contexts m which it takes place, we find differences in the type of language selected as appropriate to different types of situation (Halliday et al. 1964: 87).

A register is constituted by 'the linguistic features which are typically associated with a configuration of situational features - with particular values of the field, mode and tenor' (1976: 22). In general, these definitions take as their point of departure the linguistic structure of a text and relate it to elements of context, more specifically the context of situation of the text.

Halliday's later definition tends to place the more primary emphasis on semantic patterns and context.

[Register] is the set of meanings, the configuration of semantic patterns, that are typically drawn upon under the specified conditions, along with the words and structures that are used in the realization of these meanings (1978: 23).

Register is determined, by what is taking place, who is taking part and what part the language is playing (1978: 31). There is also a greater emphasis on the broader social context:

A register can be defined as the configuration of semantic resources that the member of a culture typically associates with a situation type. It is the meaning potential that is accessible in a given social context.

Halliday further makes the point that, while register may be recognized by its formal (i.e., linguistic) characteristics, its structure is semantic (ibid: 111). Hence, in this definition, the critical elements are seen to be firstly contextual, and secondly, linguistic.

Following closely the work of Halliday, Gregory and Carroll (1978) see register as 'a useful abstraction linking variations of language to variations of social context' (1978: 64), 'a contextual category correlating groupings of linguistic features with recurrent situational features' (1978: 4). A further interpretation which similarly relates text to context defines register as 'a linguistic category, a property relating a given text, in terms of its formal, phonological or graphological, or substantial, features to similar texts in comparable situations, and thereby to features in the situation of utterance or composition', qualifying this with the statement that 'a given language will be said to have a register distinction at a certain point only if there are both linguistic and situational differences there' (Ellis and Ure


1969: 252). The common factor in these definitions of register is the view that both situational and linguistic variables should be an essential part of the process of register characterization.

Moreover, it is these situational variables that determine the function of the utterance, that specify register as a variety according to use. 'Language varies as its function varies; it differs in different situations. The label given to a variety of a language according to use is "register'" (Chiu 1973: 54); that is, function is a product of inter-relating situational variables, and register is the product of functional variation.

Genre

However, for some theorists, the concept of 'register' is not sufficient to capture this mediating phenomenon. In more recent times, these theorists have found the concept of 'genre' more effective in representing that theoretical construct which intervenes between language function and language form. As a consequence, there is considerable variation in the definitions and conceptualization of the two terms, with some degree of overlap between the two concepts, as well as some basic differences in the usage of the concepts and terminology.

The emphasis of genre theorists is firmly on social and cultural factors as the generating factor of all action, including linguistic action. 'Genres are primarily defined as the socially ratified text-types in a community' (Kress and Threadgold 1988: 216). For genre theorists, the value of concepts of genre is that they offer

. . . certain theoretical categories to describe . . . the interface between the socio-cultural world and textual form ... ways in which texts and the social agents which produce them construct and are constructed by the social and the cultural (1988: 216).

Halliday, however, still employs the term 'register' to encapsulate that relationship between texts and social processes. He employs 'genre' in a more limited sense, in the sense which has been common in literary discussions in the past. He sees 'generic structure' not as the embodiment of the text as social process, but as a single characteristic of a text, its organizational structure, 'outside the linguistic system'. It is one of three factors, generic structure, textual structure and cohesion, which distinguish text from non-text, and as such can be brought within the general framework of the concept of register (Halliday 1978: 145). However, he sees it as a feature of all texts, even spontaneous conversation, and not as simply confined to literary texts. In other words, for Halliday, genre is a lower order semiotic concept; register the higher order semiotic concept, thus subsuming genre. The genre of a text, therefore, contributes to its register. He thus considers 'register', as he has defined it in the past, to be the concept which best represents the text-context relationship.


Genre theorists, however, reject any privileging of discursive structure in discussions of text. They reject concepts of genre which are confined mainly to discussions of literary texts, 'where genre is conceived of largely as a schema for action, a recipe for producing a text, ... an autonomous ~ormal characteristic of texts' (Threadgold 1989: 93). Typical of earlier mterpretations of 'genre' is that of Hymes (1974), who sees genres as categories such as poem, myth, tale, riddle, etc. He says that 'the notion of genre implies the possibility of identifying formal characteristics traditionally recognized' (Hymes 1974: 61). This limitation to purely' formal cat~gories is rejected as unable to account for the nature of language as a SOCial process.

Genres are not simply schemas or frames for action. They involve, always, characteristic ways of 'text-making' (what in systemic-functional terms we could call mode), and characteristic sets of interpersonal relationships and meanings (Threadgold 1989: 96).

However, although genre theorists (such as Martin, Threadgold, Kress, Reid,) perceived register as insufficient to explain the relationship of text and context, they nevertheless acknowledge 'the Hallidayan tradition of linguistics' as the basis of their theories.

T~e. genre theory underlying the so-called 'genre-based' approaches to wntmg development was deVeloped by Hasan 1978, Kress 1982, Martin 1983 and others as an extension of earlier work on register by systemic linguistics including Halliday, Gregory, U re and Ellis (Martin, Christie and Rothery, 1987: 119).

Furthermore, Threadgold freely admits that 'the use of the term genre in systemic theory i~ full of unresolved problems' (Threadgold 1986: 56).

One of the claims of genre theorists is that 'genre theory differs from register theory in the amount of emphasis placed on social purpose as a determining variable in language use . . . . In essence genre theory is a theory of language use' (Martin, Christie and Rothery 1987: 119). In other words, they see register theory as placing too little weight on social processes and hence functional aspects of texts. They see that register the~ry privileges linguistic features of texts over social context (,Linguistic chOIces ... may well have generic implications; but genre does not result from linguistic choices' (Reid 1988: 34)), and context of situation over the broader social context (,they fall short of offering any explanation of action and institutions as social contexts in which subjects are constituted and pursue their aims within the parameters made possible by institutional str~ctur~s and th.e various constraints which these exert on the media by which discourse IS transmitted' (Threadgold 1986: 34)).

Given the original insistence by Halliday, Gregory and Carroll and Ure on the initiating force of contextual factors and linguistic function in the process of realization of meaning, this initially seems surprising. Halliday


defines register in terms of the association of linguistic features with 'different types of situation' (Halliday et al. 1964: 87), Gregory and Carroll (1978: 64) see it as 'linking variations of language to variations of social context', and Ure (Ellis and Ure) 1972: 252) perceives it as an association of linguistic features and 'features in the situation of utterance or composition' .

It may, however, be a product of the earlier emphasis on the linguistic characteristics of register, at the expense of contextual or functional characteristics. While Halliday has always insisted on the determining nature of contextual factors in specifying register, he also says in an early work (1964: 89) that 'if two samples of language activity from what, on non-linguistic grounds, could be considered different situation-types show no differences in grammar or lexis, they are assigned to one and the same register'. This apparent downgrading of contextual factors in the specification of register is perhaps partially responsible for the interpretation over the intervening years of register as referring primarily to linguistic characteristics.

An example of such an interpretation is that of Wallace (1981: 267) who defines register as 'a complex of features including appropriate lexical items, stylistic devices, frequency of certain grammatical transformations, discourse structure, etc.', indicating the emphasis on linguistic features without reference to the contextual background giving rise to such features. Such interpretations formed the basis in those intervening years for theory and practice, particularly in the field of language teaching, which was based on linguistic analysis, paying little heed to contextual factors at any level.

Halliday himself acknowledges this early over-emphasis on lexicogrammar (1978: 110), and attempts in a later work to correct it, asserting that, while a register is 'recognizable as a particular selection of words and structures', it must be defined 'in terms of meanings .... It is the selection of meanings that constitutes the variety to which a text belongs' (1978: 111). He goes on to say that 'instead of characterizing a register largely by its lexico-grammatical properties, we shall suggest ... a more abstract definition in semantic terms' (1978: 110-111). This definition places the emphasis on register as the configuration of semantic resources; the meaning potential accessible in a given social context. However, despite this later revision of emphasis, the term register has become identified in the minds of many language specialists as being involved primarily with linguistic characteristics rather than on the contexts which generate them.

There is a further difference in emphasis in the application of the two concepts of register and genre which involves the 'confusion ... between context in the sense of "immediate context of utterance" and the wider context of culture', referred to briefly above (Kress and Threadgold 1988: 226). Genre theorists move away from the emphasis of register theory on the context of situation, as they stress the interactive and cyclical nature of text-context relationship, and perceive context in its broadest sense as reaching out to the wider culture. Threadgold asserts that it is insufficient


to discuss the linguistic process in terms of situation types and their corresponding genres.

What we need to know is how institutions and institutionalized power relationships and knowledges are both constructed by and impose constraints on (and restrict access to) possible situation-types and genres (1989: 97).

Kress and Threadgold draw attention to the paradoxical situation where 'literary texts are usually supposed to elide in some way the former [context of situation], while still being constrained by the latter [context of culture]. On the other hand, the texts of casual conversation are often described as if they were constrained only by the former' (1988: 226).

Any theory which seeks to dichotomize form and content is rejected by genre theorists. A text cannot be 'separated from [its] participation in historical, social, and political processes' (Threadgold 1989). Instead genre theorists seek to 'understand the ways in which lexico-grammatical patterns in texts are globally contextualized so as to [realize particular important social functions]' (Kress and Threadgold 1988: 216). Genres are seen to derive their conventions 'from a general and differentiated semiotics rather than from a linguistics' (Freadman 1988: 91).

Text and context

The nature of text m the View of genre theorists is neatly summed up by Kress (1985: 18).

Texts arise in specific social situations and they are constructed with specific purposes by one or more speakers or writers. Meanings find their expression in text - though their origins of meanings are outside the text - and are negotiated (about) in texts, in concrete situations of social exchange.

These situations, he claims, in 'their characteristic features and structures, ... the purposes of the participants, the goals of the participants' (1985: 19) determine the form of the resulting text. It is from the conventionalized forms of such situations or occasions that genres, or conventionalized forms of text, arise.

Kress characterizes genres as providing 'a precise index and catalogue of the relevant social occasions of a community at a given time'. He sees that the meanings of texts are not only derived from the meaning contained within the discourse (systems of meanings arise out of the organization of social institutions), but also from the meanings of the genre, or meanings about the conventionalized social occasions from which texts arise (1985: 20).

The interaction between text and context is seen in the form of the 'nexus


between language and society', where 'language fixes a world that is so much more stable and coherent than what we actually see that it takes its place in our consciousness and becomes what we think we have seen' (Kress and Hodge 1979: 5). So firmly established is that nexus that 'language, which is given by society, determines which perceptions are potentially social ones. These perceptions, fixed in language, become a kind of second nature. We inevitably impose our classification on others, and on ourselves' (1985: 5).

It is very clear, then, that any description of linguistic form is meaningless unless it incorporates an acknowledgement and description of the broader social context, 'the social occasion' of the text: 'without immediate and direct relations to the social context, the forms and functions of language are not fully explicable' (Kress and Hodge 1979: 13). In contrast, it seems that, in discussion of register, it has been the case that the form of the text frequently takes prior place, and context and linguistic functions follow: for theorists of register, a register is primarily essentially constituted by linguistic features which are then 'associated with a configuration of situation features' (Halliday 1976: 22).

The tendency of register theorists to privilege linguistic structure in theory and consequently in the practice of linguistic analysis has been conducive to a concentration of such work on text as a linguistic product. The outcome of this position is the assumption of a primarily synoptic view of texts which ignores the probabilistic, dynamic aspects of their performance.

Genre theorists claim that the concept of genre, with its dual emphasis on all contextual levels and linguistic structure, allows a dual focus, the synoptic focus of text as product, and the dynamic focus of text as process.

Genres are both 'products' and 'processes' - 'systems' and 'performances'. Each time a text is produced so as to realize and construct a situation-type it becomes the model for another text and another situation-type. As a model, it functions like a static, finished product or a system according to which new texts can be constructed. Once the constructing begins it becomes again a dynamic process, a 'performance' which will inevitably change the model with which it begins. This means that we have to teach the interpersonal and textual characteristic of genres, the probabilistic, dynamic aspects of their performance as well as their schematic structures (Thread gold 1989: 100).

The concept of genre has undoubtedly been associated with whole interactions, or whole texts, whereas the term register is frequently used to refer to sections within a text which are characterized by certain linguistic forms. I believe that this is a useful distinction to retain, in order to allow for discussion of passages or sections of texts; it frequently occurs that certain sections of a text show patterns which are not characteristic of the text as a whole:


register patterns may be borrowed into a shorter stretch of a longer text, so that the shorter stretch is marked by features other than those that characterize the text as a whole (Essex 1972: 52).

Birch and O'Toole (1988: 2-3) see genre as 'the social relevance of a text, but refer to 'the different registers in the poem' and 'shifts in lexical register' (1988: 11).

This distinction between whole texts and sections of texts is made by Bakhtin (1986), although he universally applies the term 'genre'. Bakhtin distinguishes between primary (simple) and secondary (complex) genres, where secondary genres 'absorb and digest various primary (simple) genres that have taken form in unmediated speech communion' (1986: 82). Although he claims no difference in function, he perceives that primary utterances or genres lose their immediate relation to actual reality when they constitute a section of a secondary genre, such as when a rejoinder of everyday dialogue (primary) is contained within a novel (secondary). I suggest that the term 'register' has developed an association with primary or simple genres, that is texts or sections of texts which take the form of shorter utterances, spoken and written, while secondary or complex genres have become identified with the term genre proper.

Bakhtin used the concept of 'speech genres' to refer to the 'relatively stable thematic, compositional and stylistic types of utterances' which are determined by a specific nature of the particular sphere of communication (1986: 64), as well as 'semantic (thematic) considerations, the concrete situation of the speech communication, the personal composition of its participants and so on' (1986: 78). Diversity arises in everyday genres such as greetings, farewells, etc. as they vary according to 'the situation, social position, and personal interrelations of the participants in the communication' (1988: 79). A comparison, therefore, between Halliday's definition of register and Bakhtin's definition of genre shows that there is a considerable degree of commonality: both hinge the definitions on linguistic and situ ational characteristics. What is at issue, of course, is the nature of the definitions.

Discourse

What emerges from the arguments put forward by both schools is that, while registers are free to mediate in any communicative event, socially identified or informal, complete or incomplete, genres are taken to represent those events which have been culturally recognized. While the concept of register is postulated as a relationship between text and context, genre is defined as 'a staged, goal oriented social process' which is used 'to embrace each of the linguistically realized activity types which comprise so much of our culture' (Martin, Christie and Rothery 1987: 120).

It is Halliday's view that such a distinction is unnecessary (personal communication), and he adheres to the concept of register as a sufficient


concept to specify the relationship between text and context at all levels. While I believe that this is undoubtedly true, it is inescapable that for many the term 'register' has developed a semantic value over the past twenty-five years of usage and application. No definitions, no matter how influential, can override this semantic value, which includes constraints, limitations and restrictions of its original conceptualization. Hence the semantic value with which it is attributed by theorists and practitioners in the field today does not necessarily coincide with the original value attributed to it by Halliday.

However, there are those who accept Halliday's definitions and remain uninfluenced by later interpretations and practice. The two terms are often used interchangeably. Frow (1983: 93), working from Halliday's 'development of the concept of register', says that

Discourse genre or register is a conventional institution: a normative codification of different levels of meaning appropriate to a type of situation. Discourse ... is the production of a unified cluster of semantic, structural, and contextual meanings in accordance with generic norms. The codification of meanings appropriate to a situation is ultimately a function of the ideological formation, and different social classes and sexual classes will encode the genres of discourse with different semantic potentials.

Frow, then, finds it unnecessary to make distinctions between whole and part texts in this way, and accepts the interpretation as originally offered by Halliday.

Fairclough (1985, 1988) interprets register as 'an ideologically particular, situation-specific meaning potential' (Fairclough 1985: 112), preferring this to Halliday's interpretation, as 'it ties register to ideological diversity and relations of power' (p. 116). It is 'ideological' in that it represents a particular social base. He claims that 'it makes little sense to study verbal interactions as if they were unconnected with social structures' (Fairclough 1985: 746). He sees verbal interaction as a mode of social action which presupposes a range of structures which are reflected in the 'knowledge base' or 'background knowledge' (BGK) which incorporates:

- knowledge of language codes - knowledge of principles and norms of language use - knowledge of situation - knowledge of the world

(1985: 744).

However, BGK often becomes 'naturalized' or assumed to be nonideological 'common sense' and hence dissociated from that social base. To incorporate both ideological and discourse structures in the discussion of register, he develops the term 'ideological-discursive formation' (1988: 113).


-------------------------------, genre ~ ~ i

'------+-----------,-1 -- - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -1 I I field

reg Ister mode

tenor

Figure 2.1 Language and contex

(Martin, 1988: 17)

dlscoursel

semantics

grammarl phonology

lexls

I

An attempt to resolve this conflict in terminology and hence in conceptualization is made by Martin (1982: 2), who perceives the two concepts in mutual relationship. He accepts the Hallidayan concept of register as 'the study of the [systematic] relation between language and its context' (1980: 7):

There are two aspects to knowledge of register. Firstly, it entails understanding how the context of situation influences fanguage use and secondly, it involves knowledge of a description of English (1981: 7).

I I I I I I I I

This definition is consistent with definitions of Halliday, Gregory and Carroll and Ure. However, in view of the constraints on the term discussed above, Martin goes further, distinguishing register from genre, and placing register as a semiotic system intervening between genre above and language below, where 'language is treated as the phonology of register and register the phonology of genre' (1982: 2).

For him, the advantage of using the concepts of both register and genre means that 'instead of setting field, mode and tenor variables for whole texts as has been customary in register theory, values can be adjusted from one state to the next' (Martin 1986: 40).


Language teaching

Language teaching, which traditionally deals with the non-literary genres, has tended to favour register theory, and hence has incorporated the emphases described above. This has involved a privileging of linguistic features at the expense of contextual features, a focus on partial rather than complete texts, and little acknowledgement of the influence of the broader context of culture, some of which has been recognized by certain language teaching theorists.

Swales (1985) and Widdowson (1983) have both drawn attention to the inadequacy of register analysis as it has been practised in the past as a tool for developing ESLlEAP/ESP syllabuses and methodologies. Like the genre theorists, Swales (1985: 12) too perceives that the term 'register' is associated with an emphasis on linguistic structure at the expense of contextual features and thus prefers to employ the concept of genre. He claims that studies in genre analysis 'differ from traditional register or subregister analysis in the importance they attach to communicative purposes within a communicative setting'. For him, genres place an emphasis on communicative purpose which he feels is lacking in traditional views of language teaching:

Within language across the curriculum there are many recurring communicative situations that involve types of task and types of text .... Such regularized text-task interactions I shall call genres .... I accept that they can be differentiated according to the sort of information represented, but I do not so easily accept that topic-typing (classification, structure, etc.) is the only or even the main criterion for this differentiation. I think we have also to take communicative purpose very much into account (Swales 1988: 12).

Swales then goes on to define genre explicitly m relation to his own concept of language teaching (1985: 13):

a. A genre is a recognized communicative event with a shared public purpose and

b. A genre is, within variable degrees of freedom, a structured and standardized communicative event with constraints on allowable contributions in terms of their positioning, form and intent.

c. Overt knowledge of the conventions of a genre is likely to be much greater in those who routinely or professionally operate with that genre rather than in those who become involved in it only occasionally.

d. Societies give genre names to types of communicative event that they recognize as recurring. Named genres are manifested through spoken or written texts (or both) and their associated text-based tasks.

e. Modified genre-names (survey article, issue memo, panel discussion) indicate features that a speech community finds salient and thus provide a way into sub-genres.


The difference between this definition of genre and previous definitions of registers lies less in intent than in emphasis. While definitions of register attempt to relate situational factors, from which communicative purpose or function is assumed or recognized, with linguistic structure, Swales' position seems to interpret genre as referring to socially recognized communicative events where communicative purpose appears to be explicit or overt (' a standardized communicative event . . . with aims mutually understood by the participants within that event' (1985: 13». Swales also emphasizes the nature of genre as a complete text, referring to genre names such as survey article, issue memo and panel discussion. Register on the other hand seems to refer just as easily to incomplete events, or sections of texts, as to whole events or texts.

Similar limitations in the application of the term 'register' are also seen by Widdowson. He says (1983: 28), 'there is no reason why registers, or varieties, or rhetorical types should not be characterized by reference to the communicative properties of linguistic forms in context'. However, he goes on to say that traditional register analysis has not done this, with the result that register analysis as a basis for course design cannot account for the function of linguistic items as components of discourse. It incorporates only 'what aspects of the language system accompany certain activities' but does not incorporate any understanding of 'HOW they are used as an intrinsic element of these activities' (1983: 33), and that 'register analysis ... is an operation on text and does not, as such, reveal how language is used in the discourse process' (Widdowson 1983: 28).

Widdowson sees that basing analysis on the concept of genre may offer advantages:

The value of such analysis is that it provides a characterization of the communicative conventions associated with particular areas of language use and takes us beyond the itemization of notions and functions into larger schematic units upon which procedural work can effectively operate (Widdowson 1983: 102).

However, he also sees limitations or possible dangers in the application of genre analysis in that 'in revealing typical textualizations, it might lead us to suppose that form-function correlations are fixed and can be learned as formulae, and so to minimize the importance of the procedural aspect of language use and learning' (Widdowson 1983: 103).

Hence, in understanding the process of linguistic realization of meaning, and further the process of language learning and language teaching, it is critical that the theoretician and the teacher are aware that 'the relationship between the form and content of texts is not arbitrary or conventional, but that it is determined (and constrained) culturally, socially and ideologically by the power of institutional/discursive formations' (Birch 1989: 1). One must understand, according to Threadgold, that 'to teach genres, discourses and stories is inevitably to make 'visible' the social construction and transmission of ideologies, power relationships, and social identities' (1989: 100).


I propose that both the terms register and genre have their place for the language theoretician and practitioner, as both offer slightly different insights into the linguistic process. The term 'register' tends to be the more neutral, generalized and embracing term, having a wider currency in the language teaching area, and a stronger historical basis. It tends to suggest a focus on the linguistic side of the text-context paradigm, on patterns of lexis and syntax rather than on discourse structure or textual organization, and on sections of discourse smaller than the whole text. 'Genre', in contrast, has the force of suggesting the priority of the context as a 'conventionalized occasion' over linguistic forms and patterns, the text as a complete event, with formalized organizational schemata.

We must be able to analyse both the linguistic components and the situational components of language events, each on a number of dimensions at the same time; this is necessary to enable us to identify which linguistic variables co-vary with which situational variables (University of Essex 1972: 54).

On this basis, I conclude firstly that any attempt to characterize language, or variation within a language, must work through the concepts of register and genre, and secondly that any characterization of register/genre, or particular registers/genres must specify both contextual features at various levels as well as linguistic features.

References

Bakhtin, M.M. (1986), 'The Problem of Speech Genres' in M.M. Bakhtin, Speech Genres and Other Late Essays (trans. Vern W. McGee) Austin, Texas, University of Texas Press, 60-101.

Benson, J.D. and Greaves, W.S. (eds) (1985), Systemic Perspectives in Discourse Voll: Selected Theoretical Papers, from the Ninth International Systemic Workshop, Norwood, N.J., Ablex.

Birch, D. (1989), 'Language, Literature and Critical Practice', in S. Anivan (ed.), Language Teaching Methodology for the Nineties, Singapore, SEAMEO Regional Language Centre, 157-177.

Birch, D. and O'Toole, M. (eds) (1988), Functions of Style, London, Frances Pinter.

Chiu, R. (1973), 'Measuring Register Characteristics', in IRAL Vol XII1 Feb 1973, 51-68.

Ellis, J.N. and Ure, J. (1969), 'Language Varieties: Register, in A.R. Meetham (1969), (op. cit.) 251-259.

Fairclough, N. (1985), 'Register, Power and Socio-semantic Change', in D. Birch and M. O'Toole (eds) (1988), 111-125.

Freadman, A. (1988), 'Anyone for Tennis'?, in I. Reid (ed.) (1988), 91-124. Frow, J. (1983), 'Reading as System and as Practice, in Comparative Criticism 5,

1983, 87-105. Gregory, M. and Carroll, S. (1978), Language and Situation: Language Varieties and

their Social Contexts, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul.


Halliday, M.A.K. (1978), Language as a Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning, London, Arnold.

Halliday, M.A.K., MacIntosh, A. and Strevens, P. (1964), The Linguistic Sciences and Language Teaching, London, Longman.

Hymes, Dell (1974), Foundations in Sociolinguuistics: An Ethnographic Approach, Philadelphia, University of Pennyslvania Press.

Kress, G. (1985), Linguistic Process in Sociocultural Practice, Geelong, Deakin University Press.

Kress, G. (1988), 'Textual Matters: The Social Effectiveness of Style', in D. Birch & M. O'Toole (eds) (1988), 126-141.

Kress, G. and Hodge, R. (1979), Language as Ideology, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Kress, G. and Threadgold, T. (1988), 'Towards a Social Theory of Genre', in Southern Review 21/3 (1988), 215-243.

Martin, J. (1982), 'Process and Text: Two Aspects of Human Semiosis', in J. Benson and W. Greaves (eds), 248-274.

Martin, J. (1986), 'Intervening in the Process of Writing Development', in C. Pointer and J. Martin (eds) (1986), 11-43.

Martin, J., Christie, F. and Rothery, J. (1987), 'Social Processes in Education', in I. Reid (1987), 58-82.

Meetham, A.R. (ed.) (1969), Encyclopaedia of Linguistics, Information and Control, Oxford, Pergamon Press.

Olson, D. et al. (eds) (1985), Literacy, Language and Learning, Cambridge, CUP. Pointer, C. and Martin, J. (eds) (1986), Writing to Mean: Teaching Genres across the

Curriculum, Applied Linguistics Association of Australia, Occasional Papers No. 9.

Reid, I. (ed.) (1988), The Place of Genre in Learning: Current Debates, Geelong, Deakin University.

Swales, J. (1985), 'A Genre-Based Approach to Language Across the Curriculum' in M. Tickoo (ed.) (1986), 10-22.

Swales, J. (1988), 'ESP and Applied Linguistics: Hopes for a Brave New World', in M. Tickoo (ed.) (1988), 14-20.

Tannen, D. (1985), 'Relative Focus on Involvement', in D. Olson et al. (eds), Literacy, Language and Learning, Cambridge, CUP, 124-147.

Threadgold, T. (1986), 'Semiotics - Ideology - Language (Introduction)" in T. Threadgold et al. (eds) (1986), 15-60.

Threadgold, T., Grosz, E.A., Kress, G. and Halliday, M.A.K. (eds) (1986), Semiotics - Ideology - Language, Sydney, Sydney Association for Studies in Society and Culture.

Threadgold, T. (1988), 'The Genre Debate', in Southern Review 21/3 (1988), 315-330.

Threadgold, T. (1989), 'Talking about Genre: Ideologies and Incompatible Discourses', in Cultural Studies 3, (1989), 92-118.

Tickoo, M. (ed.) (1986), Language across the Curriculum: Proceedings of the Annual RELC Seminar 1985, Singapore, Regional Language Centre.

Tickoo, M. (1988), ESP: State of the Art, Singapore, SEAMEO Regional Language Centre.

University of Essex (1978), Report of the Contemporary Russian Language Analysis Project, Essex, University of Essex Language Centre.

Ure, J. (1968), 'Practical Registers', in English Language Teaching, Vol. 23, (1968-9), 107-215.


Wallace, W. (1981), 'How Registers Register: Towards the Analysis of Language Use', lRAL Vol XIX/4.

Widdowson, H. (1983), Learning Purpose and Language Use, Oxford, OUP. Part 11. Controlling and changing ideologies

3 Drama praxis and the dialogic imperative David Birch

Keir Elam talks about drama as being about '. . . an I addressing a you, here and now'. (1980: 139), as a way of distinguishing it as a different GENRE of discourse from, for example, third person narratives. Drama, seen in these terms, is about a present rather than a past determination of person, time and place, because it occurs as performance in the here and now.

But the here and now, I would suggest, contrary to this view, is not a 'natural' event. It is discursively (and hence institutionally) determined by a number of different semiotic signals and markers only some of which are linguistic. The notion of person, i.e. subjectivity, like time and place, is not simply riflected or represented by language, it is determined by language and the various other semiotic means we have of making meanings.

This determination of person, time and place - traditionally thought of in terms of deixis - involving the who, where and when of the action/interaction can account for a large percentage of text involving deictic determiners of personal, possessive and demonstrative pronouns; tense; adverbials of place and time; discourse referencing; terms of address and naming strategies; honorifics and social markers, and so on. These, and other linguistic and non-linguistic means, are crucially important in establishing role and status relationships, subjectivities, and points of view - in other words: realities. Deixis is not simply about linking language and situation by 'anchoring' utterance to context (Levinson 1983: 55), a traditional but critically limiting view within sociolinguistics/pragmatics, but might better be thought of in terms of its establishing subject/object relations in interaction. It then becomes a discursive, cultural and, therefore, political/critical process, and not simply, as is often thought to be the case in non-critical theories of discourse/language, an innocent, disinterested means of establishing spatio-temporal relations, or ensuring that verbs agree with their grammatical subjects. Deictic shifts signal different points of view; these in turn signal different realities, and these realities determine and are determined by different (multiple) ideologies. Understanding deixis, therefore, like understanding all processes of making meaning, is about understanding multiple, rather than single, realities; about conflict, rather

44 DAVID BIRCH

than co-operation, between an I and you, a here and there; a now and then; a this and that.

'It is in and through language that man (sic passim) constitutes himself as a subject, because language alone establishes the concept of 'ego' in reality ... ' (Benveniste, 1971: 218). The reality to which words like I and you refer is, therefore, a discursive reality. Language is only possible because speakers - users - are 'set up' as subjects with words like I and you, and with the various other discourse markers for person/subjectivity.

A contemporary critical position argues that we are interpellated as subjects, rather than arguing that we are born with a unique and specific social and cultural identity. We are constructed not just as a single subject, but, in many different situations and contexts, as many different, multiple, subjects. This multiple subjectivity is made possible only by discursive means - amongst them, language. It is therefore about interaction, not just among people and institutions, but amongst various semiotic systems, intertextualities and dialogic histories. The result is a bricollage - a process of multiple fragments which when 'sewn' to social and cultural realities (suture) by various institutional/ideological means construct the ways in which we make meanings; understand meanings, and do things to others with those meanings. Subjectivity - language - is socially and culturally interpellated into, and by, institutionally determined discursive formations, and only a very small part of those discursive formations has been, so far, the focus of traditional linguistics (see Birch 1989).

Whenever a person uses language, in whatever mode, it is useful, therefore, to imagine that there is a set of quotation marks around the utterance which signal that this is not original to a unique individual, but is part of a historical, social/cultural process of making meanings which involves a dialogue between other discourses, other texts, other persons, times and places; other sites of producing meanings. This is a crucial point which signals very sharply the critical divide between structuralist and post-structuralist thinking on the notion of creativity/originality in language. Jacques Derrida talks about language in these terms as 'citations'. 'Each text', Derrida writes, 'is a machine with multiple reading heads for other texts ... ', where, 'one text reads another' (Derrida 1979: 107). All texts, therefore, are many-voiced; are always about interaction and intertextuality; always about a dialogue with history.

Bakhtin/Voloshinov talk about this as the 'dialogic imperative', where one meaning - one voice - is able, always, to influence, and be influenced by, another meaning, another voice. But this is not a cosy system of cooperation following necessarily well-ordered and well understood rules, but is rather a process of violent clashes and struggles; a multiplicity of conflicts; a chaos of making meanings; a heteroglossia of voices signalling plurality rather than singularity; dialogue rather than monologue:

The word, directed towards its object, enters into a dialogically agitated and tension-filled environment of alien words, value judgments and accents, weaves in and out of complex interrelationships, merges with

DRAMA PRAXIS AND THE DIALOGIC IMPERATIVE 45

some, recoils from others, intersects with yet a third group: and all this may crucially shape discourse, may leave a trace in all its semantic layers, may complicate its expression and influence its entire stylistic profile (Bakhtin 1981: 276).

Understanding how meanings are made is thus a process of understanding intertextuality because 'Each word tastes of the context and contexts in which it has lived its socially charged life' (Bakhtin 1981: 293). The production of meaning, and hence the understanding of meaning, has necessarily to be a dialogue with other texts; has necessarily to be an intertextual activity; has necessarily to be a historically and politically charged process. The linguistics which goes with that needs, therefore, to be the same; needs, therefore, to be about dialogic imperatives and discursive formations, and not simply about relations between linguistic structures in langue.

Language does not simply represent a reality external to itself. We can never 'discover' what reality is, all we can effectively do, as William James pointed out over 130 years ago, is to pose the question 'Under what circumstances do we think things are real?' (Wilden 1972: 124). And those circumstances, as Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann have made strikingly clear, are ones which result in socially constructed realities. What is central, therefore, in such a materialist view of communication, is that 'human thought is founded in human activity (labour) and in the social relations brought about by this activity' (Berger and Luckmann 1967: 18). It is through the choices that are made in the transactions and interactions of communication - in the discursive formations - that realities are created. Meaning, therefore, has no ontological basis, but is determined only by social - discursive - practice. The choices and the associated communicative/discursive strategies and routines that make up those social practices are what determine the meanings, and these strategies and routines are, in turn, determined by ideologies.

Language, seen in this way, is about performing actions by performing meanings; a position well known by all users of language but which has been buried within linguistics by an avalanche of psychological and structuralist concerns. Sartre in his essay 'On Dramatic Style' discusses the shamanistic power of language to effect change in others, writing that 'language is a moment in action, as in life, and it is there simply to give orders, defend things, expound feelings in the form of an argument for the defence (that is, for an active purpose), to persuade or accuse, to demonstrate decisions, to be used in verbal duels, rejections, confessions and the like' (Sartre 1976: 105).

Ludwig Wittgenstein recognized this when he argued that it is 'Practices (which) give words their meaning.' (Wittgenstein 1977: 32e). By 'practices' he was referring to the idea that it is USE that determines meaning and not an intrinsic, context-free, meaning encoded into the words. The term 'practices' is important here. The German word Wittgenstein used was Die Praxis, and praxis, I would argue, combining Wittgenstein's arguments

46 DAVID BIRCH

about language as use, and a Marxist understanding of praxis as human activity which, in the face of institutional oppression and alienation (Enifremdung), needs to be radical activity in order to bring about change in the human condition, can be a very effective base on which to build a critical linguistics. Praxis, and relatedly, language, is therefore about social and political interaction and change. A critical understanding of drama praxis, therefore, is also about social interaction and change. Praxis, then, is a process of analysis and action designed to bring about change. Praxis is both the action and process which establishes that we are, as people and social institutions, what we do, and what we do is determined discursively, i.e. by the various means we have of making meaning, among them, the use of language. Texts are therefore practices which involve social interaction. And social interaction is about power and change. (see Birch, 1991a).

More often than not, communication depends far less on what the words mean than many people realize. But where meanings are triggered by language those meanings are not intrinsic in the system and structure of language; they are made by people, and more importantly by institutions; in social situations which are always changing. What the words themselves mean are often of lesser consequence than the discourse strategies and structures involved, as the exchange between the characters JERRY and EMMA in Betrayal (Pinter, 1978: 521) might demonstrate:

JERR Y: . . . I have a family. EMMA: I have a family too. JERRY: I know that perfectly well. I might remind you that your

husband is my oldest friend. EMMA: What do you mean by that? JERRY: I don't mean anything by it. EMMA: But what are you trying to say by saying that? JERRY: Jesus. I'm not trying to say anything. I've said precisely what

I wanted to say. EMMA: I see.

What is it about this exchange that could result in a performance that might put EMMA on the attack and JERR Y on the defensive? Conflict between the two characters seems to rest not on something that has actually been said, but on something that remains unsaid. There does not appear to be a clearly signalled difference of opinion between them. What there is is a difference which seems to rest on uncertainty and ambiguity. What are more likely to be of importance, then, in understanding and then performing conflict based on uncertainty, are those aspects of the text which foreground that uncertainty. That, for the most part, seems to rest initially on uncertainty of what the demonstrative 'that' refers to throughout the course of the exchange. JERRY and EMMA seem to understand quite different things by it, and therefore what might, in other circumstances, have been an effective cohesive way of tying the text, and


thus the characters, together, might more effectively be performed here as a trigger for ambiguity and hence conflict between EMMA and JERR Y. JERRY's replacing the demonstrative with the more indefinite 'it' in line 6 might then be used to signal his backing off from the conflict, but EMMA's repeated use of the stronger demonstrative 'that' in her response keeps up the pressure to the point where JERRY'S response becomes much angrier. Conflict between the two characters might therefore be understood, and developed, by following a thread of the discourse - in this case, demonstrative pronouns - throughout the exchange, rather than building up a picture of that conflict, i.e. the dialogic imperatives, by word meanings only. Conflict is therefore based, on this reading, not on what is in the text but what is referred to, from different points of view by the characters, outside the text.

Similarly, the conflict might be developed further, in performance, by underlining the fronting of the subject pronoun 'I' at the beginning of most of the turns that JERR Y and EM MA take in the exchange, establishing a power struggle between them to assert themselves over each other, and, amongst other things, the pointing up of the 'too' which is given end-focus in EMMA's first response to JERR Y and by that end-focus asserting EMMA's grounds for equal power status with JERRY.

In other words, the drama praxis involved is understanding how meanings are made by dialogic imperatives, rather than on what is being said in words, in order to understand the ways in which the characters can effect some sort of change upon each other. Understanding this, therefore, means understanding what relations of power are involved, and entails a view of language as interaction which, following an understanding of praxis as radical action, assumes that in any exchange amongst people there is a struggle of multiple voices; a struggle for dominance; a struggle to bring about change; a struggle of imperatives a drama praxis.

HAM M in Endgame (Beckett 1958: 54) is telling a story and says:

I'll soon have finished with this story. (Pause) Unless I bring in other characters. (Pause) But where will I find them? (Pause) Where would I look for them? (Pause. He whistles. Enter CloD.) Let us pray to God

This sort of narratorial 'intervention' is well understood, and is a good illustration of the way in which control of a situation can be gained by disturbing normal expectations. It is a form of defamiliarization or estrangement, what the Russian Formalists called ostranenie, which has the ability to shift the direction of meaning from the familiar to the unfamiliar, thereby fore grounding the unfamiliar in order to effect some sort of

48 DAVID BIRCH

discursive change. It is a process which has become something of a commonplace in many texts. It would be rather more defamiliarizing, for example, if a television newsreader in a prime time news slot abandoned the prepared script on the autocue, and began to recount the intimate details of a recent personal trauma. Or if, as in the following example from Sandra Harris' work on the discourse of Magistrates' Courts, the defendant took control of the questioning:

MAGISTRATE: I'm putting it to you again - are you going to make another offer - uh - uh to discharge this debt?

DEFENDANT: Would you in my position? MAGISTRATE: I'm not here to answer your questions - you answer

my question. DEFENDANT: One rule for one and one for another - I presume. MAGISTRATE: Can I have an answer to my question - please? The

question is - are you prepared to make an offer to the court - to discharge - this debt?

DEFENDANT: What sort of minimal offer would be required? MAGISTRATE: It's not a bargaining situation - it's a straight question

Mr H - can I have the answer? DEFENDANT: Well, I'll just pay the court a pound annually. MAGISTRATE: That's not acceptable to us.

(Harris 1984: 5)

The situation here is an interesting one because the power relations have been reversed. The defendant is adopting a negotiating role in what is usually considered to be a non-negotiating frame. As a consequence the defendant is in rather more control of the discourse than is 'normal'. It is normally very difficult for defendants to introduce new topics, for example, or to respond to a question with another question. They are normally firmly under the control of the magistrate. Harris suggests that Magistrates have control not just of the turn-taking but more importantly of the propositional content of the discourse. What that means is that defendants are rarely allowed either to introduce propositions of their own or to reject the propositions set up by the magistrate. Questions which appear to be innocently soliciting information are best seen as a means of control, because '. . . through the act of questioning one speaker is able to define the way in which the discourse is to continue, and thus also to define participant relationships along a dimension of power and authority.' (Harris 1984: 15). For example:

MAGISTRATE: um - and what is you - what are your three - your children living on and your wife?

DEFENDANT: Well I do know they uh receive supplementary benefit sir - I realise entirely that it's to me to counterbalance that by paying you know I know.

MAGISTRATE: Are you paying anything at all?

DRAMA PRAXIS AND THE DIALOGIC IMPERATIVE

DEFENDANT: No I haven't been able to - at all sir - no I get. MAGISTRATE: Are you supporting anyone else? DEFENDANT: Not at all - no - I live on my own sir. MAGISTRATE: And how much do you receive then? DEFENDANT: Fourteen pounds thirty five.

49

MAGISTRATE: Well can't you spare anything of that - for your children - um?

DEFENDANT: Yes - I would do. MAGISTRATE: When did you last pay anything?

(Harris 1984: 16)

DEFENDANT is never in a posltlon to develop an answer because MAGISTRATE always cuts in with a new question. It is MAGISTRATE who is setting the agenda therefore because it is magistrates who establish the proposition. When DEFENDANT attempts to put a new proposition it is always cut off before it is completed. The questions by MAGISTRATE therefore enable him/her to establish control of the situation and of DEFENDANT and his/her defence. The questions might best be understood, therefore, as accusations, so that 'are you supporting anyone else' could be read as 'you don't support your ex-wife but you choose to support someone else when your wife should have priority.' (Harris 1984: 20). Control is therefore exercised in a number of linguistic ways: chiefly by questions functioning as accusations and by control of the propositional content of language, achieved mainly by one person with higher status preventing, by interruptions, a person in a less privileged position from stating their case.

DEELEY, for example, in Old Times (Pinter 1971) interacts with KATE mainly through questions, giving performance possibilities of always being in control of KATE by dominating her through language, a strategy KATE can turn back on him from time to time:

DEELEY: Why isn't she married? I mean, why isn't she bringing her husband?

KATE: Ask her. DEELEY: Do I have to ask her everything? KATE: Do you want me to ask your questions for you? DEELEY: No. Not at all. (Pause) KATE: Of course she's married. DEELEY: How do you know? KATE: Everyone's married. DEELEY: Then why isn't she bringing her husband? KATE: Isn't she? (Pause) DEELEY: Did she mention a husband m her letter? KATE: No.

(Pinter 1971: 12ff.)

50 DAVID BIRCH

The norm for DEELEY and KATE's discourse is the adjacency of question:answer which generally gives DEELEY the control. But this norm can be disturbed, because KATE can fight back by using DEELEY's own question strategy on him, which she does twice. At both those moments control of the discourse can shift from DEELEY to KATE, and it is not without significance that Pinter signals that possibility by suggesting that the actors pause before continuing the exchange. But after each pause, DEELEY regains control and therefore the domination of KA TE.

We are dealing, then, with the need to be dramaturgically aware of conversational strategies in order to understand roles, relationships and discursive meanings, over and beyond the words that are being used: to understand conversational implicature. For example in the exchange between NICK and GEORGE in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (Albee 1964: 30ff.):

GEORGE: So ... you're in the math department, eh? NICK: No ... uh, no. GEORGE: Martha said you were. I think that's what she said. (Not too

friendly) What made you decide to be a teacher? NICK: Oh ... well, the same things that ... uh ... motivated you,

I imagine. GEORGE: What were they? NICK: (Formal): Pardon? GEORGE: I said, what were they? What were the things that motivated

you? NICK: (Laughing uneasily) Well ... I'm sure I don't know. GEORGE: You just finished saying that the things that motivated you

were the same things that motivated me. NICK: (With a little pique) I said I imagined they were. GEORGE: Oh (Off-hand) Did you? (Pause) Well ....

Any tension which might be performed in this exchange is more likely to be caused not by what they say to each other but by the conflict between their individual goal orientation. Performed as an exchange of challenges determined by each character having a different goal as they move through the exchange, NICK's 'pique' and GEORGE's 'off-hand' reaction might be better understood. What turns out to be the crucial piece of information in this exchange, NICK's assertion that he imagined his motivations about teaching were the same as GEORGE's, was in fact postponed until the very end of NICK's response. Postponing information like this, to the right of the main clause in an utterance, can have the effect of marking it out as important, focused as it is at the end of the clause, but it can act like a tag question, and appear to be much more of a throwaway remark -something which is considered to be more of an afterthought than it might have been had it been given thematic prominence at the beginning of the clause. The assumption of shared information about their motivations for going into teaching resulted in quite different goals in the exchanges -NICK to establish some sort of solidarity with GEORGE, and GEORGE


to question the basis of that goal of solidarity. NICK argues that imagine should have been interpreted as an important end-focused item, whereas GEORGE interprets it as an afterthought. Their different goals are signalled by quite different discursive strategies and dialogic imperatives involving quite different perceptions about the status of shared knowledge. Marilyn Cooper (1987) demonstrates similar things in an analysis of Betrayal (Pinter, 1978: 37-8) suggesting that what is at issue is not just the status of the shared knowledge (and lack of it) between jERR Y and ROBER T but the fact that the conversation works on the basis of individual rather than shared goals:

ROBERT: They say boys are worse than girls. jERRY: Worse? ROBER T: Babies. They say boy babies cry more than girl babies. jERR Y: Do they? ROBERT: You didn't find that to be the case? jERRY: Uh ... yes, I think we did. Did you? ROBERT: Yes. What do you make of it? Why do you think that is? jERRY: Well, I suppose ... boys are more anxious. ROBER T: Boy babies? jERRY: Yes. ROBER T: What the hell are they anxious about ... at their age? Do

you think? jERRY: Well ... facing the world, I suppose. Leaving the womb, all that. ROBERT: But what about girl babies? They leave the womb too. jERRY: That's true. It's also true that nobody talks much about girl

babies leaving the womb. Do they? ROBER T: I am prepared to do so. jERRY: I see. Well, what have you got to say? ROBER T: I was asking you a question. jERRY: What was it? ROBER T: Why do you assert that boy babies find leaving the womb

more of a problem than girl babies? jERRY: Have I made such an assertion? ROBERT: You went on to make a further assertion, to the effect that

boy babies are more anxious about facing the world than girl babies. jERRY: Do you yourself believe that to be the case? ROB ER T: I do, yes. (Pause) .JERRY: Why do you think it is? ROBERT: I have no answer. ( Pause) J ERR Y: Do you think it might have something to do with the difference

between the sexes? ( Pause) ROBERT: Good God, you're right. That must be it.

(Pinter 1978: 62ff.)

52 DAVID BIRCH

Cooper makes the point that the way in which ROBER T manages to manipulate JERR Y throughout this exchange is because he leads him into situations which JERRY had not planned himself. ROBERT's discursive strategies are more direct than JERRY's, and the uncertainty created by the lack of shared knowledge on JERR Y' s part is exploited to the full by ROBER T. The difference between a question and an assertion becomes a crucial issue. What is of interest is that it is not the content of the exchange that is important but the goal-orientation of the discourse: the shared knowledge they have and the imperative strategies of conflict.

Austin Quigley in an analysis of The Dwaifs (Pinter 1977) makes the important point that 'To control what someone is able to say is to control to a considerable extent what they are able to be'. (Quigley 1974: 417). For example:

PETE: (briskly) I've been thinking about you. LEN: Oh? PETE: Do you know what your trouble is? You're not elastic. There's

no elasticity in you. You want to be more elastic. LEN: Elastic? Elastic. Yes, you're quite right. What are you talking

about? PETE: Giving up the ghost isn't so much a failure as a tactical error.

By elastic I mean being prepared for your own deviations. You don't know where you're going to come out next at the moment. You're like a rotten old shirt. Buck your ideas up. They'll lock you up before you're much older.

LEN: No. There is a different sky each time I look. The clouds run about in my eye. I can't do it.

PETE: The apprehension of experience must obviously be dependent upon discrimination if it's to be considered valuable. That's what you lack ....

(Pinter 1977: 100-101)

Pete can be performed as controlling LEN by concentrating on the registerial differences of their language. PETE might be considered as being in considerably more control of his own language than LEN is of his because PETE demonstrates a fluency which appears to be beyond LEN. This, of course, depends upon a cultural privileging of articulacy being of higher value and status that dysfluency. Whoever is able to control that value system is therefore able to control the people who are unable to match its standards. Exploiting the difference, therefore, between these two levels of linguistic skill means exploiting relations of control and power. LEN reaches a point, for example, where he says to another character MARK:

LEN: You're trying to buy and sell me. You think I'm a ventriloquist's dummy. You've got me pinned to the wall before I open my mouth. You've got a tab on me, you're buying me out of house and home,


you're a calculating bastard. (Pause) Answer me. Say something. (Pause) Do you understand? (Pause) You don't agree? (Pause) You disagree? (Pause) You think I'm mistaken? (Pause) But am I? (Pause) Both of you bastards, you've made a hole in my side. I can't plug it!

(Pinter 1977: 107)

LEN seems able to recognize that he has been oppressed linguistically by the 'greater' skills of MARK and PETE but is unable to counter that oppression because, in this exchange, MARK refuses to take the floor and give LEN the linguistic opportunity of gaining control of him. When MARK does engage verbally:

(LEN: Do you believe m God? MARK: What? LEN: Do you believe m God? MARK: Who? LEN: God. MARK: God? LEN: Do you believe m God? MARK: Do I believe m God? LEN: Yes. MARK: Would you say that again?

(Pinter 1977: 111)

he oppresses LEN by never allowing LEN's opening move to be developed beyond re-opening moves. LEN may have interesting things to say; interesting propositions to put on the agenda of the exchange, but MARK persistently blocks them. LEN is trying to understand the world linguistically, but is frustrated in this by MARK and PETE.

If LEN is unable to control language, he is unable to control the people around him: he therefore becomes controllable by others - subject to the dialogic imperatives of others. The characters MARK and PETE define what constitutes coherent languages, so much so that LEN cannot only be defined in terms of his ability to do things with language, he can also be defined because of his fears of what language, in the hands of other characters, can do to him:

The fundamental battle is for linguistic dominance, for control of the means by which identity, sanity and reality are created for a given community. The central linguistic issue in the Pinter world is not, as had generally been supposed, one of communication, but one of control. Language has an important role in establishing those normative concepts that define social reality which in turn have a controlling power over individual identity and growth.

(Quigley 1984: 421)

54 DAVID BIRCH

Kripa Gautam makes similar points in an analysis of The Caretaker (Pinter 1960) where the main characters, MICK, ASTON and DAVIES spend most of their time negotiating role relationships. MICK, for example, can assert authority over DAVIES by acting as the linguistic 'superior' in any exchange between them. This can then result in DA VIES being suspicious of any interaction he might have with MICK, for example:

DAVIES: (vehemently) I keep myself to myself, mate. But if anyone starts with me though, they know what they got coming.

MICK: I can believe that. DAVIES: You do. I been all over, see? You understand my meaning?

I don't mind a bit of a joke now and then, but anyone'll tell you ... that no one starts anything with me.

MICK: I get what you mean, yes. DAVIES: I can be pushed so far ... but MICK: No further. DA VIES: That's it. MICK: (Sits on the head of DA VIES's bed) What you doing? MICK: No, I just want to say that ... I'm very impressed by that. DAVIES: Eh? MICK: I'm very impressed by what you've just said. ( Pause)

Yes, that's impressive, that IS.

(Pause) I'm impressed, anyway.

DA VIES: You know what I'm talking about, then? MICK: Yes, I know. I think we understand one another. DAVIES: Uh? Well ... I'll tell you ... I'd ... I'd like to think that.

You been playing me about, you know. I don't know why. I never done you no harm.

MICK: No, you know what it was? We just got off on the wrong foot. That's all it was.

DAVIES: Ay, we did. (Pinter 1960: 48ff.)

When DA VIES attempts to gain control, after a history of exchanges where MICK has oppressed him, MICK appears to give him some ground, but displaces him quickly by manipulating DA VIES into believing that they are on an equal linguistic footing, but which by the end of the exchange puts MICK well and truly back in control and both of them back in their original roles.

Texts, of any description, are not, therefore, simply representations or expressions of something else; some other semiotic system or text. They are distinct imperative acts aimed at influencing the thoughts and actions of other people. For example, the characters HESTER and ]OHNNIE in Hello and Goodbye (Fugard 1966: 17 ff.):

DRAMA PRAXIS AND THE DIALOGIC IMPERATIVE

HESTER: Do you sit up all night? ]OHNNIE: When he's bad. HESTER: You said he was better. ]OHNNIE: He's getting better. HESTER: So he was bad. ]OHNNIE: Well on the road to recovery. HESTER: But he was .... ]OHNNIE: We mustn't talk loud. HESTER: I'm not talking loud. ]OHNNIE: I'm just saying. HESTER: Well say it when I'm talking loud! ]OHNNIE: You're starting. HESTER: Oh shit!

55

It is not just the linguistic choices that are made here which communicate the dialogic imperative, but the discursive choices too. For example, the expectation of conflict developed as a result of intertextual knowledge about previous exchanges between ]OHNNIE and HESTER (brother and sister) can be worked out by actors in analysis and rehearsal performances. This exchange might be read as simply cross-talk with little else happening, but it might also be read in terms of the status of the characters, the power relations between them, the conflict involved, and so on: in other words the 'semiotic orientation' which determines the way in which the choices that are made, linguistically and discursively, are oriented by, and towards, social situations and ideologies. We make choices in grammar, transitivity, mood, moves, exchanges, acts and so on but these are not innocent choices. Texts are not simply neutral, ideologically uninvolved instances of different registers, but are institutionally determined, with certain registers more dominant than others. This domination can lead to the view, as it has done, that a particular register is not just more appropriate than others in certain contexts, but is more correct than others in all situations. What this therefore does is to oppress other registers. What I am talking about, then, is a struggle for power which results in ideologically conflicting registers; ideologically different systems of classifying and controlling the world; ideologically different ways of imposing the dialogic imperative.

The concept of the dialogic imperative is an important one in understanding how meanings are made, and when grounded in an ideological move designed to effect political and social change, like in the alienation praxis (Verfremdungsiffekt) of Bertolt Brecht, a very powerful means of understanding language can be gained. What is crucial, however, is that the praxis used to isolate and assess such dialogic/discursive processes develops as an ideological critical practice. This will thereby allow a movement to be made, within linguistic criticism, which does not simply comment on the dialogic as an aesthetic/rhetorical effect, but which demystifies and deconstructs that process in order to demonstrate levels of meaning which otherwise might be unaccounted for. Importantly, also, in

56 DAVID BIRCH

such ideological criticism is the fore grounding of interpretation as dynamic reading formations, always aware of the historical intertextualities which constitute the process of constructing meaning and radical praxis.

References

Albee, Edward (1964), Who's Ajraid oj Virginia Woolj? A Play, London, Jonathan Cape.

Bakhtin, M.M. (1981), The Dialogic Imagination, trs. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist, Austin, Univ. of Texas Press.

Beckett, Samuel (1958), End.game, A Play in One Act Followed by Act Without Words, A Mime jor One Player, London, Faber and Faber.

Benveniste, Emile (1971), Problems in General Linguistics, trs. M.E. Meek, Florida, Univ. of Miami Press.

Berger, Peter and Thomas Luckmann (1967), The Social Construction oj Reality. A treatise in the Sociology oj Knowledge, London, Penguin.

Birch, David (1989), Language, Literature and Critical Practice. Ways oj Analysing Text, London, Routledge.

Birch, David (1991a), 'Drama Praxis' in Social Semiotics, 1/2, 170-93. Birch, David (1991b), The Language oj Drama: Critical Theory and Practice, London,

Macmillan. Cooper, M.M. (1987), 'Shared Knowledge and Betrayal', Semiotica 64/1-2. 99-118. Derrida, Jacques (1979), 'Living On' in H. Bloom et al. (eds) Deconstruction and

Criticism, New York, Continuum, 75-176. Elam, Keir (1980), The Semiotics oj Theatre and Drama, London, Methuen. Fugard, Athol (1966), Hello and Goodbye, Cape Town, A. Balkema. Gautam, Kripa (1987), 'Pinter's The Caretaker. A Study in Conversational

Analysis', Journal oj Pragmatics, 11, 49-59. Harris, S. (1984), 'Question as a Mode of Control in Magistrates' Courts', Inter-

national Journal oj the Sociology oj Language, 49, 5-27. Levinson, S. (1983), Pragmatics, Cambridge, CUP. Pinter, Harold (1960), The Caretaker, London, Methuen. Pinter, Harold (1971), Old Times, London, Methuen. Pinter, Harold (1977), Plays: Two, London, Eyre, Methuen. Pinter, Harold (1978), Betrayal, London, Eyre, Methuen. Quigley, Austin (1974), 'The Dwarfs: A Study in Linguistic Dwarfism', Modern

Drama, 17, 413-422. Sartre, Jean-Paul (1976), Sartre on Theatre, (ed.) M. Contat and M. Rybalka, trs.

F. Jellinek, London, Quarter Books. Wilden, Anthony (1972), Systems and Structures. Essays in Communication and Exchange,

London, Tavistock. Wittgenstein, Ludwig (1977), Remarks on Colour, (ed.) G.E. Anscombe, trs. Linda

L. McAlister and Margaret Schattle, London, Basil Blackwell.

4 Evaluation and ideology III scientific writing Susan Hunston

1. Introduction

The production of a written text is a social process, both in the sense that it represents the interaction between a writer and a reader (Sinclair 1981) and in the sense that the text plays a role in a particular social system (Halliday and Hasan 1985). Because social systems incorporate ideologies, the text is therefore written to be understood within the context of a particular ideology.

It has been well documented elsewhere (e.g. Kress and Hodge 1979; Fairclough 1988; Martin 1986) that the ideology (or ideologies) within which a text is written constrains choices in discourse organization, grammar and lexis. The writers mentioned above stress the constraining influence of ideology on what entities are deemed to exist by the text, how they are related and how they operate on each other. In Fairclough's discussion of a bank advertisement, for example, a conflict is identified between the ideology where the entities are a vendor trying to entice a customer to buy, and that where the entities are a banker able to grant or withhold priviledges from a supplicant.

Less explicit in much of the existing work on ideology in discourse is the issue of how the entities present in a text are valued, that is, which entities are 'good' and which are 'bad'. For instance, the conflict of ideologies discussed be Fairclough may be epitomized by the conflict of values surrounding the concept 'debt'. In traditional banking terms, debt is a 'bad' thing, to be avoided by the reputable and responsible bank customer. For a bank charging high interest rates, however, debt is a money-spinner and therefore to be desired. In this case, of course, the text is unlikely to select the term debt, preferring the more positively-evaluated credit. Here we can see the value system of the ideology in operation.

It is my contention that this important aspect of ideology - the value system may be described linguistically in terms of the evaluation present in a text, or a set of texts. Evaluation may be defined as anything which

58 SUSAN HUNSTON

indicates the writer's attitude to the value of an entity in the text. The literature on evaluation suggests that it is essentially individual, the writer's personal assessment of a situation (Hoey 1983: 20; Winter 1982). In many genres, this assessment is articulated in terms of personal judgement. It is also true, however, that the value system involved is not personal, but must be a social or institutional one, and the assessment of items in relation to that system may be expressed in 'metaphoric' (see below and Halliday 1985: 332), non-personal terms. This is particularly true of scientific writing. In Example 1, for instance, the role of the experimenter in interpreting the inscriptions that comprise 'the results' (cf. Pinch 1985), and in assessing the value of those results in terms of their significance, remains entirely implicit.

Example 1 These results suggest that algae may further facilitate seedling survivorship by protecting seedlings from desiccation. (FSM 10.7)

This paper explores evaluation in one type of scientific writing - experimental research articles - with the aim of using this exploration to explicate the ideology behind such articles. This will involve looking at what things are valued and how, and what constitutes appropriate expression of such value. Research articles are a suitable corpus for study because the value-system they represent is relatively uniform. That is, the evaluation found in them does not vary much from article to article. Furthermore, the ideology of such articles has been fairly extensively studied by sociologists of science (see below), so that the insights of the two disciplines, linguistics and sociology, may be compared.

The approach to the study of evaluation outlined below challenges two common ideas regarding evaluation and scientific writing. The first is that

evaluation is personal and scientific writing impersonal, so that a research article cannot be evaluative.

It is true that research articles do not contain much attitudinal language (Halliday 1985), normally considered an indicator of evaluation. Rather, the evaluation tends to be implicit and to depend upon a system of shared values. Nevertheless, I shall argue that one of the chief functions of a research article is to persuade the reader of the validity of the writers' claims, and to achieve this end, the work of the writers and that of other researchers is constantly evaluated.

The second idea is that

evaluative clauses or other units may be identified as separate and different from non-evaluative ones.

I argue below that the discreteness of evaluative items is true only of what I call Relevance Markers. Other types of evaluation permeate every part of a text.

EV ALUA TION AND IDEOLOGY IN SCIENTIFIC WRITING 59

2. An approach to evaluation

To illustrate the approach to evaluation proposed in this paper, I shall discuss Example 2 below in some detail. This short paragraph is taken from a research article which reports experiments to determine whether it is necessary for certain algal species to be present in order for surfgrass to become established in a hitherto surfgrass-free environment (Turner 1983). In Example 2, Turner discounts the idea that it is the precise species of alga which determines the magnitude of facilitation, on the grounds that seedlings attached to each species died in about the same proportions. She will later suggest that only the shape of the alga is important to surfgrass facilitation, branched algae species being more helpful to the surfgrass than other types.

Example 2 1 To determine whether any branched species was differentially important to the establishment of suifgrass, I followed seedlings for 7 months. 2During this time 90% of the seedlings died (Fig. 3A), but the seeds attached to each algal species died in about the same proportion (Fig. 3B). 3These results suggest that all the branched species facilitate suifgrass and that the magnitude of the facilitation is proportional to the number of seeds originally attached to the alga. (FSM 8.1-3)

The example represents the style typical of scientific writing. There is no attitudinal language and the passage is apparently objective and free from personal judgements. It would be a mistake, however, to characterize this writing as non-evaluative. The writer's attitude towards her work, the research she has undertaken and the discourse she is creating, is clearly evident. This evaluation is of three kinds.

Firstly, there is the degree of certainty attached to each sentence. In sentence 1 (Sl), the main clause proposition - Ifollowed seedlings for 7 months - is a representation of certain activities carried out by the experimenter: the observation and counting of seedlings and the keeping of records. This might be termed a description of method. S2 recounts results, the source of the information being Figure 3. More properly, S2 states Turner's interpretation of Figure 3. In S3 the process of interpretation is more explicit, the writer's conclusions (all the branched species facilitate suifgrass) being marked as tentative by the choice of lexical item: suggest. Thus the degree of writer certainty attached to each sentence grows progressively less. In other words, the relationship between the statements and the experimenter's experience of seedlings and surfgrass becomes more distant as the paragraph proceeds.

This concept of certainty may be further illustrated if one considers how the information in Example 2 could be challenged by another researcher. The information in Sl could be disputed only by someone who had followed Turner around for seven months, and such a challenge would amount to an accusation of fraud. Similarly, the first part of S2 could be disputed only if Figure 3A were shown to be fraudulent. In the second part

60 SUSAN HUNSTON

of S2, however, the phrase about the same involves a sufficient degree of interpretation to be open to differences of opinion. (The histogram in Figure 3B shows that the relevant figures are by no means identical.) Finally, the conclusions presented in S3 could easily be disputed, different inferences being drawn from the same data. This would challenge the knowledge claim Turner is making, but not her competence nor her

integrity. In my terms, each of the sentences in Example 2 (indeed, each proposi

tion, whether stated or assumed), is given a certain status vis-a-vis both the discourse being created and the world outside it. I shall refer to this below as evaluation of status.

Turning to the second type of evaluation, the example shows that Turner is far from neutral as to the success or worth of her work. The method described in Si - I followed seedlings for 7 months - has a stated purpose of goal, namely To determine whether any branched species was differentially important to the establishment of surfgrass. This establishes a value-system under which to answer the question concerning the differential importance of branched species constitutes 'good research'. S3, in answering the question, confirms that the research has been successful. In spite of the absence of such attitudinal lexis as good, excellent, successful, therefore, the writer's attitude to the value of the research is clear. I shall refer to this as evalua

tion of value. Finally, the writer evaluates the discourse itself as possessing a

progressively increasing degree of significance. S3 plays an important role both in answering the question in Si and in describing the relevance of the results in S2. It tells the reader why the information in this paragraph is being given: to support a theoretical conclusion concerning the facilitation of surfgrass. Thus, S3 marks a culmination in the argument of the discourse. I term this evaluation of relevance.

So far I have suggested that concepts of status, value and relevance are both necessary and sufficient to account for the evaluation in Example 2. I shall now discuss each of the concepts in more theoretical detail. First, however, it is necessary to note one important difference between status on the one hand and value and relevance on the other. In every clause, a choice of status is compulsory: it is not possible to write a 'status-less' clause and therefore in this respect it is not possible to write a nonevalu~tive clause. With regard to value and relevance, however, the writer does have a choice between evaluation and non-evaluation. It is not necessary for every clause to express value, and only a minority of clauses will mark relevance.

Status

The notion of status as I have used it in analysing experimental research articles brings together several distinct concepts. Firstly, the status s:lected for a clause reflects the writer's degree of certainty and commItment

EVALUATION AND IDEOLOGY IN SCIENTIFIC WRITING 61

towards the proposition. A description of a past event, as in Si of Example 2, carries a higher degree of certainty than an inference drawn from data (S3). In other words, the assigned status states the relationship between the proposition and the 'world of nature' (Bazerman's term). In Si of Example 1, for instance, the relationship may be described as direct the proposition reflects the world. In S3, however, the relationship between proposition and world is mitigated.

In addition, the writer's choice of status bestows 'thingness', in the sense that the clause so evaluated becomes an 'object', which may be later further evaluated. In Example 2, only one of the possible nominalizations actually occurs S2 becomes These results in S3. Si could be referred to as a process or procedure, S3 as a Conclusion. In Sinclair's terms, these statuses are initial statements to which a response may be made, and the nature of that response will depend on the status. The success of a process, for instance, is evaluated in different terms from that of a result or a conclusion. (See the discussion of value below for details.) The choice of status thus constrains future evaluation.

In terms of certainty, clauses (or propositions) may be placed on a scale ranging from most certain (known or unknown) to least certain (possible). Points on the cline may be posited thus:

known certain probable

possible

unknown untrue unlikely

At each point of the cline, there are two options, one of which denotes writer commitment (e.g. This proposition is probably true.), the other denoting lack of commitment (e.g. This proposition is unlikely to be true.). The status of a given clause (or proposition) depends chiefly on what may be termed the activity of the writer. For example, the writer may narrate an event, state a result, state a (non-experimental) fact, interpret results or hypothesize. Example 2 illustrates three of these activities: narration of an event (Si), statement of result (S2) and interpretation (S3). A statement of fact and a hypothesis are illustrated by Examples 3 and 4 below respectively. (For a complete account of possible writer activities, and their recognition, see Hunston 1989).

Example 3 Surfgrass is a perennial angiosperm with grasslike blades, 2-4 mm wide and approximately 0.5 m long, borne on a branched rhizome with adventitious roots securing the plant to the rock (rifs). (FSM 2.1)

Example 4 ... I suggest the plants retain their morphology for at least three reasons: [reasons follow] (FSM 18.4)

62 SUSAN HUNSTON

In terms of certainty, result and fact status items may be described as known, whereas the interpretation is probable and the hypothesis possible.

The degree of certainty attached to a particular activity may be modified, however, by the source of the information and by choices of modality and lexis. The source of the information may be received knowledge, experimental data records, citations and the writers' own argument. Some examples of how the source may affect status are:

• ascribing information to received knowledge rather than to the writer's argument pushes it up the certainty scale;

4& ascribing an interpretation or a hypothesis to another researcher (a citation) rather than the writer pushes is down the certainty scale.

In reports from citations or from experimental data, however, the choice of lexical items for the report verb modifies the status considerably. This may be illustrated by Example 5, where three different report verbs (underlined) indicate differing writer attitudes to the information.

Example 5

1 Sih (1980) also suggested that maximising fitness involves the balancing of the coriflicting demands of foraging efficiently and avoiding predators. 2His data show that backswimmers, Notonecta hofJmani, weigh the relative magnitude of benefits and cost and choose high risk areas whenever benefits outweigh costs. 3Hence, Sih presents evidence that patch selection involves evaluating both risks and benefits. (PRF 15.1-3)

If the report verb is changed, the status of the reported proposition also changes. For example, replacing suggested in S1 of Example 5 by pointed out or showed would push the proposition up the certainty scale, while replacing the same verb by speculated would push it down. The use of claimed would indicated disagreement between Sih, who believed in the proposition, and the present writers, who do not. It would not then be possible to continue the paragraph as Example 5 does.

Status may also be modified by using modal verbs (e.g. may, must, could), modal constructions such as It is possible/clear/plausible that; We believe that, gives us confidence that; probably, possibly and modal copulas such as appear, seem.

Value

Just as evaluation of status may be perceived as bringing together the scale of certain-uncertain and the notion of bestowing 'thingness', so evaluation of value operates along a 'good-bad' scale and may be said to bestow quality. In Example 6, for instance, one entity, the balancing hypothesis, is given the quality of unsupportedness and hence is evaluated as a 'bad' hypothesis.


Example 6 Our results do not support the prediction of the balancing hypothesis. (PRF 13.1)

In scientific writing, the expression of value is often inexplicit. In Example 2, for instance, I argued that the experimental procedure is given positive value even though there is no attitudinal language in the example. This inexplicitness is what leads to the common judgement of scientific writing as impersonal and non-evaluative.

If the expression of value in scientific writing is inexplicit, however, how may it be recognized at all? The perception of goodness and badness in human activity depends on the goal of that activity. Anything which enables the achievement of a goal is good; anything which hinders this achievement is a problem which must be overcome. Goals may be stated in the text - as in Example 2 or they may be left implicit, inferrable from .a familiarity with scientific ideology and from the status of the thing evaluated. An experimental procedure, for example, has the goal of being accurate, simple and useful (in the sense that it performs a function in achieving the goal of the experiment). If the experiment involves the laboratory simulation of natural processes, additional goals are: freedom from distortion, closeness to non-laboratory conditions, consistency with other methods used and independence from theoretical bias. Anything which indicates, however obliquely, that these goals have been met, asserts the positive value of the procedure.

We may state this more formally by giving each value a mnemonic name as well as a definition, and by stating that an item with the status of an event may be evaluated using the following criteria:

Mnemonic accuracy:

consistency: verity: simplicity: usefulness: independence:

Definition freedom from distortion, artefact etc. (in lab); comprehensiveness (in fieldwork) fit to other methods closeness to non-lab conditions ease of performance goal-achieving fit to observation, not theory

In Example 2, S3 evaluates the event in SI as + useful. U sing the same argument as those given above, a clause with the status

of (statement of) result may be evaluated for value in the following terms:

Mnemonic reasonableness: reliability: consistency: supportiveness: usefulness: importance:

Definition to expectation, other facts, projections etc.

certainty fit to other data, repeat ability fit to theory ability to evaluate theory relevance, significance

64 SUSAN HUNSTON

Similarly, a hypothesis or interpretation is given positive value if it meets the following criteria:

Mnemonic accuracy: applicability: usefulness: reasonableness:

Definition fit to data fit to range of data explicatory power fit to expectation, other knowledge etc.

As illustrations of these, consider Example 7, where S2-3 evaluates the result in Sl as + reasonable and Example 8, where S5-6 evaluates the model (hypothesis) mentioned in S5 as + useful.

Example 7 1 The largest difference between the extrapolated dichroism, Pa, and that predicated if the chromatosome faces and spacer DNA were parallel to the filament. 2This is perhaps not surprising since, in this case, the spacer DNA is too short to allow neighbouring chromatosomes, even if arrayed in a zig-zag fashion, to lie parallel to the filament axis. 3 Indeed this slight and easily explained discrepancy gives us confidence that Pa is a significant description of filament structure. (HOSC 10.1-3)

Example 8 50ur model (figure 5) could certainly allow HI-mediated interactions between neighbouring turns of the solenoid. 6 Indeed, there could be an experimentally distinguishable relation between spacer length and solenoid stability. (HOSC 39.5-6)

There are two important consequences to this description of evaluation of value. The first is with regard to evaluation of status, which is, in one sense, predictive. That is, by selecting a particular status for a proposition, the writer is constrained to give that proposition value in a certain way. Furthermore, it is possible under certain circumstances to predict whether the value given will be positive or negative. This may be illustrated using Example 9.

Example 9 Connell and Slatyer (1977) suggest facilitation should be most common In harsh environments . .. (FSM 16~

In this example, the report verb and the modal (underlined) identify the proposition as having the status of possible. The writer is then free subsequently to offer evidence for or against the hypothesis. If the sentence were to be rewritten as in Example 9a, however, the degree of certainty would be increased to certain and it would then be possible for the writer to give the statement only positive value, such as the hypothetical sentence added to Example 9a. If the report verb were changed to claim, as in Example


9b, the status would be downgraded to unlikely, and subsequent evaluation would be most likely to be negative, as in the hypothetical subsequent sentence shown.

Example 9a Connell and Slatyer show that facilitation is most common in harsh environments. [Our results confirm this observation.]

Example 9b Connell and Slatyer claim that facilitation is most common in harsh environments. [This is not the case with surfgrass.l

The second consequence of this description of value is that, as it is known that items may be evaluated according to certain criteria, sentences which appear to be non-evaluative may nonetheless be interpreted as evaluative. In Cerri and Fraser (1983), for example, a hypothesis is stated that there is a statistical interaction or dependence between food and predator choice (PRF 2.3). As this is a hypothesis, one of the ways it may be given value is in terms of its accuracy, that is, its fit to the data ( see above). Even an apparently strictly factual statement such as Example 10 may then become an evaluation of value, in this case assessing the hypothesis as - accurate.

Example 10 A chi-square contingency table analysis on the data in table 2 shows that the main effects of food and predator are independent [equationl. (PRF 11.3)

(For a further discussion of goals and goal-achievement, see Hunston 1985.)

Relevance

The third type of evaluation identified evaluates significance and may be said to bestow relevance. As this type does not play a role in the main argument of this chapter, it will be discussed only briefly. At various points in research articles there are clauses which summarize the preceding (or subsequent) text and indicate its significance or relevance to the argument of the discourse and to the scientific community. I call such clauses Relevance Markers. They are meta-discoursal and play a major organizational role in the discourse, being commonly found at the beginning and end of discourse units. S3 of Example 2 is an instance of a Relevance Marker. (See Hunston 1989 for further details.)

Although the identification features of Relevance Markers are not of major importance to this topic, it is worth noting that a crucial organizing device in this type of discourse is evaluation of relevance to the on-going argument. This confirms Myers' view (Myers 1990) that a research article is a narrative of argumentation.

66 SUSAN HUNSTON

3. The nature of scientific research articles

Work in the sociology of science (Collins 1985; Garfinkel et al. 1981; Latour and Woolgar 1979) suggests that there is an essential contradiction, an 'inversion' in Latour and Woolgar's terms, at the heart of experimental research articles. For convenience, this contradiction may be discussed in terms of two aspects.

Firstly, research articles appear to describe a search after facts which reside independently in the physical world. A typical description of a model, or theory, for instance, is that in Example 11 below.

Example 11 . . . by the patch choice model we conclude that the fish were selecting patches based on the relative food abundance regardless of the presence or absence of predators. (PRF 23.4)

It is presupposed by this that the fish, independent of their observers, either do or do not select patches based on relative food abundance only, and that this fact is available for access by the scientists. Latour and Woolgar, however, describe the process of scientific 'discovery' as being, in fact, the interpretation of inscriptions to fit with other interpretations, or what Latour and Woolgar term the construction of facts. Talking about the 'discovery' of a hormone, TRF(H), for instance, they comment:

From a strictly ethnographic point of view, the object initially comprised the superimposition of two peaks after several trials. In other words, the object was constructed out of the differences between peaks on two curves (Latour and Woolgar 1979: 125).

The second aspect of the contradiction is that research articles appear to report sequences of events with no personal intervention on the part of the writer. Bazerman quotes, somewhat ironically, the 'ideal' form of scientific writing:

1. the scientist must remove himself from reports of his own work and thus avoid all use of the first person;

2. scientific writing should be objective and precise, with mathematics as its model;

3. scientific writing should shun metaphor and other flights of rhetorical fancy to seek a univocal relationship between work and object; and

4. the scientific article should support its claims with empirical evidence from nature, preferably experimental.

(Bazerman, 1984: 163-5)

Garfinkel et al., among others, contrast the enthusiasm apparent among laboratory members at a particularly pleasing result with the emotionless written report of the result.


The purpose of research articles, however, is not simply to report but to persuade. As Gilbert (1976) points out, the scientific community reacts to research articles by evaluating the ideas in them; the article, then, functions not only as a report but as the scientist's attempt to persuade the community to place a high value on his or her knowledge claims. Such a high value would result in the acceptance of the knowledge claim as a 'fact', that is, as information which it would be difficult for other researchers to challenge (Latour 1987; Collins 1981).

It must be pointed out that to speak of these inversions in terms of apparently . . . but really, as I have done above, suggests a totally false dichotomy between illusion and reality, with reality carrying a higher value than illusion. It would be more proper, however, to speak in terms of mutually inconsistent but equivalent forms of discourse. Gilbert and Mulkay, for instance, propose a contingent and an empirical discourse. Where accounts offered in the two forms of discourse are incompatible, Gilbert and Mulkay explain this in terms of the social demands of the discourse rather than in terms of 'real' and 'apparent':

Thus we can understand the interpretative inconsistencies in our respondents' explanations of the nature of formal discourse as following from their socially generated (i.e. discursively generated) use of two formally incompatible interpretative repertoires to provide accounts of action (Gilbert and Mulkay 1984: 61).

M yers makes a similar observation regarding the narrative of science m research articles and the narrative of nature in popular articles:

[Discussion of such difference between popular and professional articles has tended] to follow one of two lines, taking either articles for professionals or articles for the general public as primary . . . I shall . . . argue that [the two kinds of writing] present two views of what a scientist does, two views that are incompatible but that both play a part in creating the cultural authority of science (Myers 1990: 141-2).

These inversions, then, are not the product of intellectual sloppiness, inconsistency or hypocrisy, but they are an integral part of the scientific process. As Latour and Woolgar put it:

The result of the construction of a fact is that it appears unconstructed by anyone; the result of rhetorical persuasion in the agnostic field is that participants are convinced that they have not been convinced (Latour and Woolgar 1979: 240).

In other words, the Way that experiments are written about in research articles is in keeping both with the social process of scientific knowledge and with the non-personal ideology of science.

The ideological inversions referred to above may be summarized as

68 SUSAN HUNSTON

follows: on the one hand, science is about observing and reporting what exists in the natural world; on the other hand, science is about the communal development of a 'physical world' picture. Bearing this in mind, it is now possible to look at the evaluation found in research articles in order to illustrate the value-system of the scientific community. I shall discuss what is evaluated and in what terms and how that evaluation is expressed. All these aspects are relevant to the ideology of science.

What is evaluated

In my discussion of status, above, I said that items in a text are responded to or evaluated in terms of their status, and that in experimental research articles, items of different status are differentiated in terms of the degree of certainty attached to them. This certainty is both personal (This is what I think) and institutional (This is what is believed to be true). Writers aim to make knowledge claims that are both as certain as possible and as general as possible. Anything which is uncertain or unknown amounts to a 'gap' to be filled or a problem to be solved, as in, for example, article introductions (Swales 1981). In other words, positive value is attached to relative certainty or knowledge and negative value to relative uncertainty or ignorance. This reflects an ideology of discovery: truth lies in the outside world, and scientific progress resides in uncovering larger and larger quantities of such truth.

The truth cannot be uncovered by an individual, however, but, to use the contrary metaphor, is communally developed. Correspondingly, the difference between levels of certainty is expressed, not only through modality (both grammatical and lexical) and the mental activity of the writer, but also through the source to which the information is ascribed. For example, a fact which arises as the result of a single experiment is less of a fact than one which has been extensively tested. A theory held by one person is less likely to be true than one subscribed to by a large proportion of the community.

In his comparison of research articles with popular scientific articles, Myers (1990) points out that whereas the latter presents a 'narrative of nature', whose organizing principle is basically chronological, the former presents a 'narrative of science', in which the organizing principle is of logical argument. In other words, what is being presented in a research article is persuasive argument rather than descriptive account. Evaluation of relevance (see above) relates the information progressively to this argument. What is evaluated, in this case the unfolding text itself, therefore reflects the underlying process.

In what terms

It was stated above that one of the reasons the status of a proposition IS


important is that items of different statuses are evaluated in different terms. Some example of the main status categories and the terms in which they may be given value have already been cited.

Attention may be drawn to two category types which reflect the ideology of the scientific process. Firstly, many status types are evaluated in terms of their usefulness to the scientist in achieving goals of experimentation or of explanation. In Example 12, for instance, the method employed (constructing the seed traps) is evaluated positively because it helps in quantifying the dispersal of the seeds. In Example 13, the results of the experiment are similarly evaluated positively because they could help with further research.

Example 12 To quantify the seasonal dispersal oj suifgrass seeds and to provide baseline injormation jor the study, I constructed seed traps jrom Vexar plastic mesh with 1 mm plastic strands and 3mm openings. (FSM 4.1)

Example 13 As a jinal comment, a popular model jor the structure oj metaphase chromosomes proposes that chromatin solenoids, with or without jurther twisting extend in loops jrom the chromosome axis (rifs). Further dichroism measurements on metaphase chromosomes could use the solenoid dichroisms measured in the present paper to determine the orientation oj these radial loops. (HOSC 41.1-2)

In these examples, the observed physical world is made subserviant to the scientist's argument, the scientist's construction of a model.

Secondly, many of the value categories may be described in terms of 'fit': fit between result and hypothesis, between complementary theories, between laboratory and the outside world, between a new knowledge claim and an existing body of scientific assumptions. In Example 14, for instance, the 'supercoiled spacer' model is evaluated positively because it will accommodate a variety of experimental results and observations within a single set of parameters.

Example 14 A strong advantage oj such a supercoiled spacer model is that it can readily accommodate a wide range oj spacer lengths within roughly the same solenoid dimensions. (HOSC 33.2)

This again reflects what is occurring in the scientific process. Information at different levels of abstraction - assumption, observation, theory - is constantly juggled to form a coherent picture which each new piece of information changes. Because the picture must, according to scientific ideology, be coherent, high value is placed upon those items which make it so.

It is worth noting, in addition, in what terms items may not be evaluated in research articles. In particular, items which are given factual

70 SUSAN HUNSTON

status may not be further evaluated in terms of their facticity. This applies to items which may be termed 'background knowledge', but also to those which are 'results' - either the writer's own or those of other researchers. This convention places a great responsibility upon writers to state as result only items of low externality (Pinch's 1985 terminology) and to express anything which may be open to challenge as an interpretation. Furthermore, there are interesting consequences when two sets of results conflict, threatening the coherence of the picture mentioned above. Even in such a case, there can be no accusation of misreading or misreporting, only suggestions that the results have been misinterpreted. In other words, what was originally stated as a fact is re-evaluated as only an interpretation. Example 15 shows a writer dealing in this way with a tricky situation.

Example 15 Our results show a limiting negative dichroism jor . . . stabilized chromatin that is less than half as large as that reported by McGhee et. at. (re]). If we ignore the high1ield absorbance change revealed by the s~gnal observed when the polarizer angle was set at 54°, our extrapolated dichroism is consistent with theirs. Hence, it is plausible that their results are in error because oj neglect oj this jactor. (ONC 21.1-3)

The expression oj evaluation

Perhaps the clearest reflection of the complex ideology of science lies in the way evaluations of status and value are expressed. The fact that research articles are essentially persuasive in function and yet attract the label 'objective' is an indication of the indirectness of evaluation involved.

The expression of status may be described as indirect because it commonly employs what may be termed, using Halliday's (1985) terminology, grammatical metaphor, in this case interpersonal metaphor. A typical illustration of this was given as Example 1 of this chapter, where what the writer thinks is probably the case is expressed in the phrase These results suggest. The role of the scientist in interpreting data is suppressed, so that the results themselves, as grammatical subject of the clause, are made to appear responsible for the conclusions (Halliday 1985: 76). In addition, the tentativeness of the conclusion is expressed implicitly in the choice of lexical item: suggest. As was argued above, if suggest were replaced by show, the degree of certainty attached to the proposition would be greatly increased. In other words, the interpersonal meanings, which Halliday claims are 'most congruently' expressed through the modality system, are expressed metaphorically, using choices of lexis. This means that interpersonal meanings, the 'subjective', whilst very much present in research articles, tend to be expressed in terms of ideational systems, the 'oqjective' .

The expression of value is similarly implicit. Typically, attitudinal lexis is avoided, especially that which characterizes items in quasi-moral terms


of 'good' and 'bad'. Only when we take into account the goals of the research being undertaken can we understand the evaluative import of apparently neutral statements. In Example 16, for instance, the contrast between the lexical items interaction and independent indicates nonachievement of the goal, which is to julfil the predictions oj a hypothesis in order to increase its jacticity. (See Hunston 1985 for further details.)

Example 16 Recall that the prediction oj the balancing hypothesis is that an interaction between the jood and predator exists. A chi-square contingency table analysis oj the data in Table 2 shows that the main effects oj jood and predator are independent. (PRF 11.2-3)

(It will come as no surprise to the reader that the discredited hypothesis in Example 16 is not the one which the writers wish to put forward as their knowledge claim. Having failed to support this hypothesis, they immediately suggest an alternative which their data, predictably, supports.)

4. Conclusion

I shall conclude this chapter by turning to an application of the work presented and considering its relevance to one client group: students and teachers of writing.

Recent work in the area of writing pedagogy (e.g. Nash 1990) stresses the importance of the interpersonal in written academic discourse. Articles in that collection by Simpson, Crismore and Farnsworth and Butler all suggest that the interpersonal, particularly as realized through the modality system, is a crucial element in writing, and one that students might find difficult. Rhetoricians tend to express similar concepts in terms of 'persona'. Bartholomae (1985), for example, describes a student writer producing texts that could legitimately be part of the discourse of an academic community, in order eventually to become part of that community. Bartholomae speaks of the student

assembling and mimicking [the academic community's] language while finding some compromise between idiosyncracy, a personal history, on the one hand, and the requirements of convention, the history of a discipline, on the other (Bartholomae 1985: 135).

What I have suggested in this chapter is that a range of grammatical and lexical choices, including modality, may be brought together under the heading of evaluation and that evaluation in turn needs to be discussed in terms of the value system of the community. The persona of the student writer must therefore absorb and be able to reflect the value system.

Furthermore, I have suggested that the ideology of science, as revealed in the language of the research article, is not a monolithic homogeneous

72 SUSAN HUNSTON

entity but a complex and subtle meshing of contradictory notions. This in turn leads to indirectness and implicitness in the expression of evaluation. Considering this meshing, it would be a mistake, I think, to infer from Gilbert and Mulkay's (1984) work, for instance, that a scientific discourse may reflect either the interpersonal judgements of casual speech or the objectivity of the written research article. This study shows that the evaluation of the research article springs from an ideology that incorporates both the personal and the impersonal.

Finally, there is no sharp distinction between 'fact' and 'evaluation'. I have gone so far as to claim that no information presented in a research article is neutral with respect to the value system. Rather the entire article rests on, and is interpreted in the light of, an evaluative sub-text of assumptions and comparisons.

The student therefore faces a difficult task. The value-system of the target community must be absorbed and information and argument must be presented in its terms. The final product must be expressed in a way that both says what the student wants to say and fits what the reader expects to hear. The ideology of the discipline must be conformed to, yet its value system must remain implicit. I believe that the work presented in this chapter provides an insight into the relationship between the ideology of science and the evaluative expression of research articles, as one type of academic writing. This in turn can form the basis of an understanding of the demands of writing such an article.

References

Bartholomae, D. (1985), 'Inventing the University', in M. Rose (ed.), When a Writer Can't Write, New York, Guildford Press, 134-165.

Bazerman, C. (1984), 'Modern Evolution of the Experimental Report in Physics: Spectroscopic articles in Physical Review, 1893-1980', Social Studies of Science 14, 163-196.

Butler, C.S. (1990), 'Qualifications in Science: Modal meanings in scientific texts' in W. Nash (ed.), 137-170.

Collins, H.M. (1985), Changing Order: Replication and induction in scientific practice, London, Sage.

Crismore, A. and R. Farnsworth (1990), 'Metadiscourse in Popular and Professional Science Discourse', in W. Nash (ed.), 118-136.

Fairclough, N. (1988), 'Register, Power and Socio-Semantic Change' in D. Birch and M. O'Toole (eds), Functions of Style, London, Pinter, 111-125.

Garfinkel, H., M. Lynch and E. Levingstone (1981), 'The Work of a Discovering Science Construed with Materials from the Optically Discovered Pulsar', Philosophy of Social Sciences 11, 131-158.

Gilbert, G.N. (1976), 'The Transformation of Research Findings into Scientific Knowledge', Social Studies of Science 6,281-306.

Gilbert, G.N. and M. Mulkay (1984), Opening Pandora's Box, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1985), An Introduction to Functional Grammar, London, Arnold.


Halliday, M.A.K. and R. Hasan (1985), Language, Context and Text: Aspects of language in a social-semiotic perspective, Victoria, Deakin University Press.

Hoey, M. (1983), On the Su1jace of Discourse, London, Alien & Unwin. Hunston, S. (1985), 'Text in World and World in Text: Goals and models of scien

tific writing', Nottingham Linguistic Circular 14, 25-40. Hunston, S. (1989), Evaluation in Experimental Research Articles (unpublished PhD

thesis), University of Birmingham. Kress, G. and R. Hodge (1979), Language as Ideology, London, Routledge & Kegan

Paul. Latour, B. (1987), Science in Action: How to follow scientists and engineers through society,

Milton Keynes, Open University Press. Latour, B. and S. Woolgar (1979), Laboratory Life: The social construction of scientific

facts, Beverley Hills, Sage. Martin, ]. (1986), 'Politicalising Ecology: The politics of baby seals and

kangaroos', in T. Threadgold et al. (eds), Semiotics Ideology Language, Sydney, Sydney Association for Studies in Society and Culture, 225-267.

Myers, G. (1990), Writing Biology Texts in the Social Construction of Scientific Knowledge, Madison, The University of Wisconsin Press.

Nash, W. (ed.), (1990), The Writing Scholar: Studies in academic discourse, Beverley Hills, Sage.

Pinch, T. (1985), 'Towards an Analysis of Scientific Observation: The externality and evidential significance of observational reports in physics', Social Studies of Science 15, 3-36.

Simpson, P. (1990), 'Modality in Literary-Critical Discourse', in W. Nash (ed.), 63-94.

Sinclair, ]. McH. (1981), 'Planes of Discourse', In S.N.A. Rizvi (ed.), The TwoFold Voice: Essays in honour of Ramesh Mohan, Saltzburg, Universitat of Saltzburg, 70-89.

Swales, ].M. (1981), 'Aspects of Article Introduction', Aston ESP Research Report No. 1, University of Aston, Birmingham.

Winter, E.O. (1982), Towards a Contextual Grammar of English: The clause and its place in the difinition of sentence, London, Alien and Unwin.

Texts cited Cerri, R.D. and D.F. Fraser (1983), 'Predation and Risk in Foraging Minnows:

Balancing conflicting demands', The American Naturalist 121, 554-561. PRF Turner, T. (1983), 'Facilitation as a Successional Mechanism in a Rocky Intertidal

Community', The American Naturalist 121, 729-738. FSM McGhee, ].D. et al. (1983), 'Higher Order Structure of Chromatin: Orientation of

nucleosomes within the 30 nm chromatin solenoid is independent of species and spacer length' Cell 33, 831-841. HOSC

Yabuki, H. et al. (1982), 'Orientation of Nucleosomes in the Thirty-Nanometer Chromatin Fiber', Biochemistry 21, 5015-5020. ONC

Part Ill. The role of metaphor: grammatical and lexical

5 The discourse of history: distancing the recoverable past Suzanne Eggins, Peter Wignell and j. R. Martin

1. Introduction

'History', states the New South Wales Secondary Schools' Board syllabus document (1980: 1), 'is the story of people'. The discipline of history involves 'a systematic study of the past' in which the goal of the historian is to take 'not a set of unrelated facts, but a selection of facts, arranged, interpreted and generalised to be meaningful' (Ibid: 3).

The teaching of history requires the inculcating in students of an 'historial perspective':

Historical perspective involves a sense of time, a sense of cause/effect relationship, an understanding of the interaction of past and present, and an understanding that history is a dynamic relationship of people, place and time in which some events can be judged to be more significant than others (ibid: 10).

The historian's task, then, can be summarized as making 'the story of people' meaningful by selecting, interpreting and generalizing from facts of the recoverable past.

Through our study of junior high school history textbooks we have tried to develop a description of 'the discourse of history': i.e. how language is used to represent and teach 'the story of people'.

Our analysis suggests that far from being a dynamic account of people and events, when history gets written down it is neither a story nor is it about people. In the process of arranging, interpreting and generalizing from recoverable facts, people are effaced, actions become things, and sequence in time is replaced by frozen setting in time.

Thus, far from bringing the recoverable past 'to life', the discourse of history seeks to maximize the distance between what people actually did and how it gets written about.

76 SUZANNE EGGINS, PETER WIGNELL, ].R. MARTIN

Table 5.1 Congruent and metaphorical realizations

Meaning Realization

participant process quality logical relation

Congruent

noun verb adjective conjunction

Metaphorical

noun noun noun, verb, preposition

The principal linguistic resource used in this process of distancing is that of GRAMMATICAL METAPHOR. In everyday spoken language, things (objects, people, etc.) are encoded as nouns; actions and doings as verbs; logical relations as conjunctions; and temporal relations as sequential. This is summarized in Table 5.1.

For example, in spoken English the following would be typical:

1. f came back from Bali early because my father died.

However, when we came to write this down we would probably end up with one of the following 2-5 below:

2. The reason for my early return from Bali was the death of my father.

In this version we notice that:

• two clauses have been made into one; • the two Actors (f, and father) are no longer performing actions. f has

become a possessive Deictic (an owner not a doer); and father has become a Qualifier;

• the logical connection between the clauses because is now realized as a noun the reason;

• the verbs came back and died are now also realized as nouns return, death; • early, which was an adverb in the spoken version has become an Epithet

in the written version.

Alternative metaphorical realizations could be:

3. My father's death caused my early return from Bali. (logical connection realized as a verb)

4. My early return from Bali was because cif my father's death. (logical connection as a preposition)

5. My father's death was the reason for the earliness of my return from Bali. (logical connection realized as a noun)

THE DISCOURSE OF HISTORY 77

These changes are all examples of grammatical metaphor: i.e. the incongruent realizations of semantic choices (see Halliday 1985a).

Grammatical metaphor, particularly nominalization, is a typical feature of many types of written texts and is usually associated with the notions of 'abstraction' and 'distance'. Texts with a high degree of grammatical metaphor tend to be considered prestigious in our culture.

In this paper we will present a detailed examination of how grammatical metaphor is used in history, its functions and consequences.

(Unless otherwise stated, all examples are taken from Barcan et al. 1972)

2. General characteristics of the discourse of history

The layman, as well as the curriculum designers, probably thinks of what happens in the past as a kind of story. People are born, live their lives and die; while alive they do things, often to other people and things.

However, in the process of writing history down, grammatical metaphor is used in a number of ways to remove people, turn actions into things, and turn sequence into setting. We can think of this as happening in a number of steps.

a) Nominalizing actions The first step is to turn actions and events into Things. For example, instead of saying

6. People learned by rediscovering the culture of the past

where people are Actors in the two Processes of learning and rediscovering, we find:

7. The new learning was a rediscovery of the culture of the past.

where there are NO PEOPLE, and the two Processes are now represented as THINGS, i.e. nouns. (All nominalizations will be shown in bold throughout the chapter.)

As this example shows, nominalization allows us to express in one clause what in speech would have been two. This decrease in grammatical intricacy (Halliday 1985b: ch. 6) is accompanied by an increase in lexical density (ibid): i.e. fewer clauses, but more content words per clause. For example, to compare two versions of our original example:

1. f came back from Bali early because my father died: 5 content words spread over 2 clauses = lexical density of 2.5

2. The reason for nry early return from Bali was the death of my father: 7 content words within one clause = lexical density of 7


Turning doings into things allows us to utilize the full grammatical resources available to Things in English. These include being able to quantify, qualify, classify, act, be acted upon, cause, have attributes and be equated with other things. In the above example, two actions have been nominalized are now equated with each other in a relational identifying clause.

b) Giving things existence Once Actors have been eliminated, and doings have become Things, it is possible to simply posit their existence:

8. There was a turning away from mediaeval interests.

This allows for the nominalized Process to exist as a Thing in its own right, unrelated to either the Actors who may have performed the action or to other nominalized Processes.

c) Making Things act Once we have posited the existence of Things, we can talk about them in more 'material' terms, as having taken place, occurred, happened etc:

9. Fundamental changes marking the beginning of the modern world took place.

Here, rather than simply saying that There were fundamental changes the quasi-material Process took place suggests action and not just existence. Both these versions contrast with a more congruent one, which would be:

10. Things changed fundamentally . .

where we became aware that a 'dummy' Actor (things) has taken the place of the people who presumably in the real world brought about the actions. The most congruent version would thus be:

11. People changed things fundamentally.

d) Setting in time In what we typically think of as a 'story', we usually find events sequenced temporally and recorded in the order in which they occurred in real time. For example,

12. I finished work, then went to the pub. And then I went home.

Here the two conjunctions then order the text temporally and the actions are listed in the order in which they were performed.

However, in turning stories into history this temporal sequence becomes setting in time. The past in divided up into a number of periods, eras or years: e.g. The Feudal Age, The Renaissance, the Reformation, etc. These


periods represent almost the only kind of taxonomizing that goes on in history and provide the organizing principle for the textbook as a whole (for discussion of taxonomizing, see Wignell et al. 1987). For example, the Table of Contents in Barcan et al. (1972) divides the past to be studied into five periods and ages (see Table 5.2).

Table 5.2 Excerpt from table of contents from Barcan et al. (1972)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Dark Ages and Christianity The Early Feudal Age, 750-1100 The Later Feudal Age, 11 00-U50 The Classical Renaissance Riformation and Counter-Riformation

Instead of talking about events occurring one after another, i.e. sequentially, it is now possible to situate an event as occurring within a particular period. Events are now set in time. This is usually accomplished through the use of marked themes.

13. In 1469 the term 'Middle Ages' was invented.

14. During the Renaissance, men abandoned mediaeval ways of looking at life.

15. By 1450 the Middle Ages were reaching their end.

16. In July 1429 she stood beside Charles as he was crowned King of France.

Setting in time, unlike sequence in time, allows you to talk about events independently of the order in which they really occurred. For example: In 1526 x happened, however in 1429 y occurred.

e) Phase Once time has been turned into a Thing it can then be treated almost as if it had a life of its own. A permeating feature of the discourse of history is the way it imposes a life-cycle metaphor on periods of time: they are born, grow and die.

17. 'birth' The Renaissance began/came into existence.

18. 'growth' The Renaissance spread/reached its height.

19. 'death) The Renaissance declined/came to an end.

If events are no longer sequenced in the order III which they really

80 SUZANNE EGGINS, PETER WIGNELL, J.R. MARTIN

happened, this life-cycle metaphor provides a way of imposing a flow of time throughout a period. It is typical of a chapter in history textbooks to begin with an Introduction to a given period, and then deal in sections with its birth, growth and death. Thus, as one period 'dies' the next is 'born' and so on. For example, the Feudal Age declines and then the Renaissance is born.

f) Doings acting We said above that one advantage of treating actions as things is that they can be made to do anything nouns can do in the grammar. Once doings have been turned into Things, they can now act and be acted upon.

20. The study of man caught the imagination of scholars.

21. An appreciation of the beauty and utility of classical architecture developed.

22. These creations portray for us at least some examples of Renaissance inspiration.

In all these examples what was congruently an action (studying man, appreciating beauty, and creating art) are represented as Actors in material and behavioural Processes.

g) Doings acted on Nominalized actions can also be acted upon:

23. Renaissance man abandoned mediaeval ways of looking at life.

24. The spread of freedom amongst the lower classes was helped because

What is the Goal in these clauses mediaeval ways of looking at life, and the spread of freedom, would in the congruent versions come out as actions.

h) People as Actors in history As we've said above, nominalizing actions tend to lead to the removal of people as Actors in the texts. This operates on a cline. In the most storylike passages, used in history as exemplifications, we do find individual people doing things and having things done to them.

25. Michelangelo was another outstanding man of the Renaissance . .. Initially he concentrated on sculpture.

However, as history becomes less like a story individuals are replaced by generic classes of participants:

26. The painters cif the Renaissance turned to the classics for inspiration.


27. The merchant class gained the name of burgher.

28. The peasants now had to produce a surplus of food stuffs to sell to the townsfolk.

29. . . . the sons of the richer merchants or of the nobles sometimes wished to become lawyers, churchmen or administrators.

The final step is to reduce the number of generic participants as Actors and to increase the number of nominalized Processes as Actors:

30. The new society developed first in central and northern Italy ...

31. What new contributions did (the Renaissance) add to the growth of mankind?

It is possible also for historians to insert themselves into the text. They are always encoded as either Agents or Actors, even when left implicit:

32. It is impossible ((for historians)) to name an exact date ..

33. Most historians, however, agree that fundamental changes marking the beginning of the modern world took place during the fifteenth century.

34. This period of change is called the Renaissance ((by historians))

(N.B.Double brackets represent our additions to the original text.)

The cumulative effect of these various forms of nominalization is to remove the story from history. For the historian, history involves a number of successive periods in which similar kinds of things go on and differ from what went on in periods before and after. Thus it is doings, not people, that begin, spread and die out. And generic classes of people or doings that act on other doings.

3. Types of history texts

We mentioned above that the removal of people as Actors can be seen as a cline. In the same way, not all the texts in a single textbook contain the same degree of nominalization. We can in fact recognize different genres of history texts, ranging from the more story-like to the more abstract. We will now examine in some detail these different types of texts, and try to suggest how the technology of history shunts along this scale. Detailed analyses of all texts discussed below can be found in the appendices.

A typical story-like text is one dealing with part of the biography of a famous individual, for example Joan of Arc, Christopher Columbus or


Michelangelo. The text dealing with Michelangelo is given below:

TEXT 1

Michelangelo (1475-1564)

1 Michelangelo was another outstanding man of the Renaissance: sculptor, painter, architect and poet.

2 He was one of the last great Renaissance artists, 3 for by the time of his death in 1564 Italy was falling into decline. 4 Initially he concentrated on sculpture. 5 At Florence in 1501 he began to carve a figure of David from a huge block of

marble. 6 This was finished in 1504 7 when he was twenty-nine. 8 David was shown with a sling on his shoulder, going to fight Goliath. 9 The statue was fourteen feet high.

10 While in Rome 11 he was asked by Pope Julius II to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. 12 For four years from 1508 till 1512 Michelangelo worked on this task lying on

his back at the top of high scaffolding, his neck stiff, paint trickling onto his face. 13 The pope was impatient [[to see the decoration of the Sistine Chapel

completedJ] 14 and made numerous enquiries about progress. 15 When M ichelangelo replied 'It will be finished when I shall have done all that

I believe is required to satisfy art '. 16 Pope Julius finally lost his temper 17 and said that if it were not at once completed he would have the artist thrown

from the scaffolding. 18 M ichelangelo hastily removed the scaffolding. 19 On the ceiling he depicted many Biblical scenes. 20 Among the 340 large figures were [[ God creating the sun and moon]], Noah and

the Flood, and [[David sitting astride Goliath's neck]l.

Key: words in bold = nominalizations [[]] = embedded clauses

(from Barcan et al. 1972: 164-5)

The above text could be classified generically as a kind of narrative. It is concerned with individual human Actors, e.g. Michelangelo, the Pope performing actions e.g. carving, painting, lying on his back, removing etc., ordered temporally when, while, initially. The text contains relatively few nominalizations, e. g. decline, this task, the decoration, enquiries, progress.

An examination of the logical connections in this text shows that most of them have to do with time and cause. That is, events are ordered according to the sequence in which they happened and what caused them to happen (see Appendix 1, p. 98, for detailed conjunction analysis).


The purpose of texts of this kind is to exemplify generalizations made in other parts of the chapter about a particular era. For example, Michelangelo exemplifies the generic class of artists, and is thus used as a typical representative of Renaissance man.

Such biographical sketches are essentially story-like. They are concrete rather than abstract, dealing with relations of time and cause between events that took place in the past, and focusing on the people who did things and had things done to them. These points are brought out in the detailed analyses of this text, given in Appendix 1 (pp. 97-100).

A second type of history text, the Report, is exemplified by Text 2 below:

TEXT 2

Art and Architecture

1 Whilst we may admire and respect other cultural aspects of the Classical Renaissance,

2 our greatest appreciation is usually reserved for those examples of art and architecture [[which are still in existence today, and whose beauty and merit we can see for ourselves]l.

3 In Florence and Milan, Rome and London are many magnificent Renaissance buildings, still in daily use.

4 Display in museums and private collections throughout the world are splendid works by Renaissance artists.

5 These creations portray for us at least some examples of Renaissance inspira-tion.

6 The ruins of classical buildings provided models for fifteenth century architects. 7 An appreciation of the beauty and utility of classical architecture developed, 8 and Greek columns and Roman arches became part of the developing Renaissance

style. 9 Brunelleschi (1377-1446) for example, deduced Ionic, Doric and Corinthian

building styles from close examination of Roman ruins. 10 He used this knowledge 11 to plan a dome for the Florence Cathedral in 1417. 12 Architecturally this was a difficult task 13 and its success was repeated in the dome of St Peter's in Rome. 14 The building of St Peter's Basilica was started by Pope Julius II in 1506. 15 The cathedral was finally completed in 1626. 16 It was the greatest building in the Renaissance style and the greatest Christian

church. 17 The painters of the Renaissance turned to the classics for inspiration 18 and took delight in [[depicting the beauty of the human body]l. 19 In this respect, too, there was a turning away from mediaeval interests, 20 for mediaeval painters often used art 21 to teach Christian ideals. 22 Renaissance painters still adopted Christian subjects,


23 but they also depicted ancient pagan themes. 24 It was an age of individualism 25 and painting oj portraits became jashionable, 26 particularly as important men in state, church and business ojten acted as patrons

oj artists. 27 Amongst outstanding painters were: Giotto oj Florence (1266-1336), the jirst

great Renaissance painter who rediscovered perspective in painting; Leonardo da Vinci (1453-1519), who spent much oj his life in Florence and Milan; Michelangelo (1475-1564), who divided his time between Florence and Rome; Raphael (1483-1520), who spent most oj his short life in Rome; and Titian (about 1487-1576), a Venetian painter who used rich colors and was a great portrait painter.

28 Tow oj these, da Vinci and Michelangelo, deserve special attention. (from Barcan et al. 1972: 163)

Texts of this kind can be classified generically as reports. Reports typically take a subject and present information about its various aspects or component parts.

We notice in this text an increase in the degree of nominalization as compared to the Michelangelo text. There is also a switch in focus away from specific individuals as Actors to a focus on generic classes of people (numbers in brackets refer to the clauses as numbered in the text cited above):

35. The painters of the Renaissance turned to the classics jor inspiration. (17)

36. Mediaeval painters ojten used art to teach Christian ideals. (20-21)

Specific participants do still occur, but not generally as Actors. Instead they are mentioned as examples of generic classes:

37. Amongst outstanding painters were: Giotto oj Florence, Leonardo da Vinci . . . etc. (27)

A further feature of this text is that it deals with a period of time, and sets specific events within that but not necessarily in the order in which they occurred. We are thus moving away from representing history as sequence in time towards representing it as setting in time.

An analysis of the logical relations in this text (see Appendix 2, p. 102) shows the absence of temporal conjunctions. Conjunctions are mainly external ones of cause or purpose, and there is little structuring of the text through internal conjunction. The structure of the text is derived from the title Art and Architecture as the text deals firstly with information about architecture, and then with information about art. This order could easily be reversed without affecting the rhetorical structure of the text.

The purpose of this type of text in history is to record and store relevant


factual information. The information gets taken up in other types of text: either as concrete exemplification, as in the Michelangelo type of text; or as a source for abstraction, as in the argument text, Revival oj Classical Studies, which we will now consider.

The third kind of text we find in history can be classified generically as an Argument. A proposition is set forth and arguments either for or against are discussed, leading to a conclusion which sums up the argument. The following text is an example of an Argument text:

TEXT .3

Revival oj classical studies in Italy

1 There were a number oj reasons [[why the Renaissance began in Italyl]' 2 Italy had been the centre oj the Roman Empire, 3 and all over the country monuments and buildings provided a reminder oj Rome's

past greatness, as well as an inspiration jor a revival oj classical culture.

4 A second reason was [[ that in Italy there were many independent cities [[ in which lived a large middle class, as well as a large projessional class oj lawyers, doctors and clergymen]]]]'

5 The cities were expanding economically, 6 they had an active social life, 7 and this encouraged intellectual experiment and progress. 8 Cities like Florence, Milan, Rome and Venice were important centres oj the

Renaissance. 9 Under such patrons as Lorenzo the Magnificent in Florence, the Visconti and

Sjorza jamilies in Milan, and Pope Nicholas V in Rome, artists, sculptors and scholars worked

10 to glorify their patrons, 11 and at the same time beautify their cities. 12 Because oj her trading activities Italy tended to be a crossroads between East and

West, jeeling the influence oj Constantinople and the cities oj western Asia, as well as that oj Europe .

13 To Rome, the capital oj Christendom, came scholars and pilgrims jrom all over the known world.

14 Traders, bankers, merchants, travellers, artists and craftsmen stimulated economic life,

15 and brought new knowledge, new ideas and new techniques to the Italian cities, particularly in the north.

16 As the Turks conquered large sections oj the Byzantine Empire in the jourteenth and jifteenth centuries,

17 many refugee Greek scholars fled to nearby Italy bringing valuable ancient manuscripts with them.

18 Thus in Italy prosperity, a large number oj educated men, the introduction of new ideas jrom other lands, a varied political structure and visible relics oj ancient times encouraged the Renaissance.


19 History, economics, geograPhy and politics contributed to produce the Italian Renaissance.


Compared to the other two types of texts we have looked at (biography and report), this text is heavily nominalized. It not only codes a large number of actions as nouns, but also it nominalizes some qualities (realized as adjectives in ordinary spoken language) and logical relations (typically realized as conjunctions). For example:

38. Actions as nouns: a reminder (3) an inspiration (3) a revival (3) intellectual experiment and progress (7) her trading activities (12) the influence . . . etc (12)

39. Qualities as nouns: Rome's past greatness (3) prosperity (18)

40. Logical relations as nouns: a number of reasons (1) a second reason (4)

This is not everyday language. But if we examine how the argument is put forward in this text we can see some of the reasons why this use of language has evolved. The text's thesis is stated in clause 1: i.e. that there are a number of reasons why the Renaissance began in Italy. The text then reviews three of these reasons (2-3, 4-11, 12-17). All of these reasons are then summed up in 18 and 19 in support of the reiterated thesis. Internal text organization of this kind is typical of written argumentation and is a common feature of texts in which historians are trying to interpret historical facts.

Given the nature of the argument, we can now look at how language is used to structure the text. In this text this is accomplished both at the levels of discourse-semantics and lexico-grammar. At the discourse level it is done by expressing logical relations of cause in incongruent ways. For example:

41. There were a number of reasons (noun) (1) a second reason (noun) (4)

42. Because cif (preposition) her trading activities (12)

The only use of a conjunction to express casual notions occurs m the conclusion to the argument: i.e. thus.


Cause is also realized at the level of lexico-grammar through Agency: i.e. through the role of Agent in the clause. Thus instead of the more spoken:

43. The cities' economies were expanding, they had an active social life and so (conjunction) people experimented intellectually and progressed.

we find:

44. The cities were expanding economically, they had an active social life and this (Agent) encouraged intellectual experiment and progress.

where the Agent this codes the meaning of the conjunction so in the more spoken version.

Nominalizing both actions and logical relations in this way has a major effect on the conjunctive structure of written text. In place of the dominant pattern of causal and temporal relations between events that we found in Michelangelo, this text has the rhetorical pattern given below in detail in Appendix 3 (p. 106).

As the analysis shows, this text is mainly organized through exemplification. Clauses 2-3,4-11 and 12-17 each provide an example of the reasons referred to in 1. And within 12-17 two examples are given of the way in which Italy's trading activities involved her with the culture of the Middle East. The reasoning that we expect in spoken language to be coded between clauses has been transferred to words and structures within the clause itself. Transferring the causal reasoning from between clauses to inside clauses means that the spaces between clauses can now be used to internally structure the argument.

This skewing towards nominalization also has a major effect on the kind of participants found in texts like this. As the analysis in Appendix 3 shows, we notice that in this text there are no individual people mentioned at all. This contrasts markedly with the Michelangelo text in which individual humans were the main participants. In this more abstract text when people do act or are acted upon they do so in generic classes.

45. a large middle class(4) lawyers, doctors and clergymen (4) artists, sculptors and scholars . . . etc. (9)

Non-human participants of time and place are also m major focus.

46. the Renaissance (1) Italy (2) cities like Florence, Milan etc. (8) the Italian Renaissance (19) the crossroads between East and West (12)


Otherwise we find only two concrete non-human participants: monuments and buildings (3), and valuable ancient manuscripts (17).. .

In summary, we can say that this type of historical dIscourse IS abstract rather than concrete is concerned with organizing an argument through exemplification, and' focuses on what classes of people or actions dressed up as things do or have done to them. ....

This kind of writing seems to be the most prestlglOus m hIstory. If for example we consider the question asked of students i~ t~e New South Wales Higher School Certificate Modern History exammatlOn (1~85), we find that no questions call for narratives or reports. All t~e qu:stlOns ask either WHY or HOW something happened, thus demandmg either argument texts or the type above, or explanations (of which we found no examples in the history textbook). For example:

47. Why were there 2 revolutions in Russia in 1917? How jar was the jailure oj the Weimar Republic a jailure by the Germans to adapt to democracy?

A fourth kind of text found in history is that exemplified by the Introduction to the chapter on the Classical Renaissance:

TEXT 4

The Classical Renaissance

Introduction

1 It is impossible [[ to name an exact date when the mediaeval world changed into

the modern world] J. 2 Most historians, however, agree [[that jundamental changes marking the begin-

ning oj the modern world took place during the jifteenth century]). . 3 The new society developed jirst in central and northern Italy, and subsequently zn

other western European countries. 4 This period of change is called the Renaissance, a French-derived word mean-

ing 'rebirth', . . . . 5 jor it resembled a rebirth oj the human spzrzt, a great revwal of learmnt.. 6 Because so much oj the new learning was a rediscovery oj the culture oj claSSIcal

Greece and Rome, 7 the term Classical Renaissance is ojten applied to this era. 8 This serves to distinguish it jrom the Greek Renaissance oj the jifth century. BC,

the Carolingian Renaissance oj the ninth century AD and the Medzaeval Renaissance oj the twelfth century.

9 The Renaissance is ojten dated jrom the 1340's in Italy. . 10 It spread to England and France in the 1490's and to Spazn and Germany in

the 1500's. 11 During the Renaissance men abandoned mediaeval ways of looking at life. 12 They developed new ideas about art, religion and behaviour. 13 They regarded the preceding centuries as barbaric,

THE DISCOURSE OF HISTORY

14 and looked back to the Greeks and Romans for models. 15 In 1469 the term 'Middle Ages' was invented 16 to describe the period between Roman times and the Renaissance.

89

17 Renaissance man was more interested in nature and science than were most men during the Middle Ages.

18 Men had a new awareness of the beauty, the richness, and the variety qf life. 19 Most of all, the study of man himself caught the imagination oj scholars, sczen-

tists, artists and craftsmen. 20 Renaissance man rebelled against authority, tradition and repression, 21 for he was aware of his own individuality 22 and strove to realize its jullest expression. 23 Why did this renaissance develop? 24 Why did it start in Italy? 25 How did it spread to the rest of Europe? 26 What new contributions did it add to the growth oj mankind? 27 When did it come to a close and why? 28 These are some oj the questions [[to be answered in this chapter]).

(from Barcan et al. 1972: 160)

Like Art and Architecture (Text 2), this text is also generically a report. However, its function in the chapter is different. Instead of serving as a source of facts it forecasts what is going to be taken up in greater detail later in the chapter. Thus instead of being a store of facts used to exemplify, it is precis of those facts considered relevant for the period as a whole. As with Art and Architecture, the participants tend to be either generic or nominalizations and what there is of logical structure is that of external cause and purpose. Whereas Art and Architecture points to specific individuals as exemplification (see clause 28), the Introduction points towards the general questions the chapter is going to address (clauses 23-28).

As well as having an organizational function for the chapter as a whole, it is only in texts of this kind that we find taxonomizing in history. The text first sets up the technical term, Renaissance:

48. This period qf change is called the Renaissance (4)

and then gives a rationale for technicalizing this period of time:

49. for it resembled a rebirth oj th~ human spirit, a great revival of learning. (5)

It then places the Classical Renaissance into taxonomic opposition with other kinds of Renaissance:

50. The term Classical Renaissance is often applied to this era. This serves to distinguish it jrom the Greek Renaissance oj the fifth century B. C., the Carolingian Renaissance oj the ninth century A.D., and the Mediaeval Renaissance oj the twelfth century. (7-8)


4. The technology of history

The four texts discussed above illustrate what we would call the technology of history: the process of turning a story into history. We will now try to summarize this technology by outlining what it would take to transform a story text such as Michelangelo into an argument text such as Revival of Classical Studies.

1. Participants As far as people are concerned we need to move from individuals (e.g. Michelangelo) to generic classes (e.g. artists, sculptors and scholars in general). We may even want to eliminate people altogether. This we do find, especially in the introductory sections of chapters. In the Introduction to the Classical Renaissance the only people left were historians, sometimes left implicit, and usually appearing in agentless passives.

51. The term Classical Renaissance is ojten applied to this period.

2. Processes In turning story into history actions shift from verbs to nouns and in a sense take the place of the human participants eliminated above. Thus, instead of saying People began to trade more, we find

52. the growth of trade

Once we have nominalized in this way we can now attach a contentless verb such as occur, happen or take place.

53. The growth of trade took place mainly In

Alternatively, we may choose to have the nominalizatton acted on by people:

54. Rich merchants encouraged the growth oj trade.

Or it may be acted on by other nominalizations:

55. Competition for individual wealth stimulated the growth of trade.

A further option is for the growth oj trade to itself act on people:

56. The growth of trade undermined the guilds.

or on other actions also nominalized:

57. The growth of trade promoted the development oj a new social class.


3. Activities

The activities making up an activity sequence are relatable to each other either through time or cause. To get history out of narrative we need first to replace temporal successive links between Processes (i. e. sequence in time realized by conjunctions like bifore, ajter, then, etc.). This produces a re-orientation to setting in time, realized through circumstances of location in time coming first in the clause as marked Themes. For example:

58. In 1469 the term 'Middle Ages J was invented to . . . At Florence in 1501 he began to carve ... For jour years from 1508 to 1512 Michelangelo worked on this task . ..

Large periods of time may in fact be technicalized if significant for historians (e.g. the Middle Ages) and once this is accomplished setting in time can be referred to with nouns:

59. During the Renaissance men abandoned mediaeval ways of looking at life.

These names of periods of time or nominalized actions (which themselves in a sense stand for periods of time) can then be phased -- begin, thrive and end:

60. I~ England the accession oj the Tudor Dynasty in 1458 marks a new ~innlng.

61. By 1450 the Middle Ages were reaching their end.

In short then setting in time replaces sequence in time as the major temporal organizing principle.

With causal relations, the basic move is from congruent realizations (i.e. conjunctions) to incongruent ones. These may be:

a) circumstance

62. Because of her trading activities Italy tended to be a crossroads ...

b) participant

63. The decline if seifdom was another result of the rise oj towns and trade.

c) Process: relational

64. But an uprising oj French rebels led to a dramatic change.

d) Process: material (agency)

65. Economic revival, religious zeal and the threat jrom Islam (Agent)


produced a series of religious wars known as the crusades.

We have described above the characteristics of the discourse of history, and the process by which narrative is turned into. history. I~ the. following section we will consider WHY history gets wntten down m this way by looking at the functions of grammatical metaphor in written text.

5. Profundity or bullshit: the functions of grammatical metaphor

We can describe the technology of history as a process of abstraction .. To explain what we mean by 'abstraction' we need to refer to the register variable of MODE.

Mode refers to semiotic distance along two scales. Firstly, the distance between speaker and addressee according to the b~rriers t~. feedback established by different media (e. g. telephone, radIO, te~evlSl~n etc.). Perhaps the most fundamental difference is between .speech, m which feedback is immediate and there is both oral and visual contact between speaker/addressee, and writing, in which feedback is. not immediate and there is typically no visual or aural contact betv:een wnter/reader. We refer to this kind of distance as INTERPERSONAL distance. .

The second kind of distance is that between the text arid the social reality to which the text refers. This is a cline which ranges a.t one end from language in action (e.g. what players say to e.ach ot~er du:mg a football match) to language as reflection (e. g. a philosophical discourse on cricket as a way of life). We refer to this kind of distance as EXPERIENTAL

distance. When we look at what happens to language use along these two distance

scales we find that there is a correlation between distance and the use of gramr'natical metaphor. That is, the cl~se.r the. interpersonal distan~e between interactants (the more feedback IS Immediate, the more there IS visual and aural contact), the more congruent the language used is likely to be. Thus, when you can see, hear, and immediately respond ~o your interlocutor you are likely to use very little grammatical metaphor m your

language. . The closer the experiential distance between language and Its context the

more congruent the language used is likely to be. Thu~, when you. are using language to comment on some task you are performmg you are hkely to use very little grammatical metaphor.

The converse is also true. So that: the less you can see, hear and immediately respond to your interlocutor, the greater the degree of grar,nmatical metaphor in your language. For example, when you. wnte something down for an unseen audience it is more likely t~at you Will use quite a lot of grammatical metaphor. The more you are usmg language to reflect rather than to act, the greater the amount of grammatical metaphor

you will use. ..' Situations in which there is both maximum mterpersonal distance and


Table 5.3 Language use and mode

Situations MINIMUM DISTANCE MAXIMUM DISTANCE of + immediate feedback - immediate feedback langauge + aural/visual contact - aural/visual contact use + language to act + language to reflect

Meaning Linguistic realizations

Everyday language Metaphorical language

participant noun process verb noun quality adjective noun logical conjunction noun, verb, preposition

maximum experiential distance are likely to produce highly incongruent language. This allows us to explain why nominalization is the most distinctive difference between spoken and written texts. Written texts are typically produced in situations in which both interpersonal and experiential distance are maximum - you can't interact with your audience, and you are usually writing to reflect. Table 5.3 summarizes the difference between language use at the two extremes of the distance scales.

We can identify two contrasting folk notions about the functions of grammatical metaphor. One would be that highly nominalized texts are PRESTIGIOUS, i.e. that grammatical metaphor makes things 'sound important'. For example, a child commenting on the language of the history textbook:

Kids don't write like that. That's a professor's kind of writing. The second folk notion about grammatical metaphor is that it's BULLSHIT. It is contrived deliberately to hide the fact that you've got nothing to say. This is an objection often raised about bureau crate se such as the following:

66. By the start of the 1980's, however, the fall in world demand and prices for minerals demonstrated the dangers of reliance for wealth generation on growth in a single sector of the economy. Following the Myers Committee Report there was also more widespread community acceptance that without technological change the lessening competitiveness of manufacturing industry would lead to a continued diminution in the overall wealth and employment potential of the economy (CSIRO internal memo).

This can be loosely translated as:

Don't put all your eggs in one basket.

The linguistic evidence suggests that although grammatical metaphor can be used in both these ways, it in fact performs other more significant linguistic functions. One way to shed light on these functions is by trying


to 'unpack' metaphorical text - i.e. rewrite a text congruently. Unpacking involves de-nominalizing the text, e.g:

67. The decline of seifdom was another result of the rise of towns.

If we unpack the four nominalizations (decline, serfdom, result, rise) we

get:

68. Because there were more towns the number of seifs declined.

Many people, bureaucrats in particular, seem to feel that heavily nominalized writing is succinct. But as we can see from the above example, nominalization does not necessarily save space. What it does do is allow writers to re-organize the information structure of their sentences and

texts. It is, for example, the only way to make the decline of seifdom Theme and

the rise of towns New (see Halliday 1985). And the sentence as a whole is clearly part of a text in which a number of the effects of the rise of towns

are being reviewed:

69. Consequences of the Rise of Towns

The rise of towns meant that a new social class, the merchant class or burgeoisie, had arisen, claiming a place alongside the nobles, clergy and peasantry. The merchant class gained the name of 'burgher' (German), 'burgess' (English), or 'bourgeoisie' (French) because they lived in towns. The member of this class were free men, not seifs.

The decline of seifdom was another result of the rise of towns and trade. In many parts of Europe the closed economy of early Feudal times gave way to a commercial or money economy . ...


A further example of this function of abstraction to organize text is shown up when we try to unpack:

70. Economic revival, religious zeal and the threat of Islam produced a senes of religious wars known as the Crusades.

This becomes

71. Because the economy revived, religious people were zealous and Islamic people were threatening there was one war about religion after another and we call

these wars the Crusades.

The meaning packed into one clause here takes five clauses in the unpacked version. In unpacking we have had to transfer the logical connections back to between clauses. This significantly effects the thematic


organization. In the packed version, the three causes are given thematic status, and the Crusades appear as New. This serves to predict the structure of the text to follow. But in the unpacked version each clause now has its own Theme and New. Thus, considering the text as an Information Unit we now have five Themes and five News to contend with: the sentence does not predict how the text will develop. These examples demonstrate that a major function of abstraction is to allow information to be organized.

Certain texts appear impossible to unpack while preserving their intended meaning. For example:

72. It was an age cif individualism.

The possible congruent version

73. Everybody was being themselves then

clearly doesn't make sense in the context. And something like:

74. During the Renaissance men abandoned mediaeval ways of looking at life

unpacks to something like: 'Men stopped thinking about how they lived like they used to think about if before'.

In these examples, grammatical metaphor is being used to make generalizations of time, and sets of behaviours. The word individualism is a nominalization for the way a whole set of individuals behaved; mediaeval ways of looking at life encompasses a whole range of actions and attitudes. Time is also generalized into periods or ages, such as the Renaissance. The same principle of generalization is operating when we turn individuals into generic classes: e.g. doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs. Using grammatical metaphor in these ways allows us to get beyond talking about what an individual or group of individuals did at a specific moment in time.

When historians make these generalizations they are usually accompanied by less abstract (usually concrete) exemplification. For example:

75. It was an age of individualism ((for example)) and painting of portraits became fashionable particularly as important men In

state, church and business often acted as patrons of artists . . .

76. During the Renaissance men abandoned mediaeval ways of looking at life. ((That is to say)) They developed new ideas about art, religion and behaviour. They regarded the preceding centuries as barbaric . . . . (( our insertions»

Thus we have identified two functions of grammatical metaphor m text:


Firstly, to allow us to organize information in ways that give prominence to our main points and structure to our arguments.

Secondly, to allow us to generalize individual discrete experiences into generic acts, behaviours and times.

Organizing and generalizing can both be seen as types of abstraction. In both cases grammatical metaphor is used to distance the text from the past it describes. Through generalization we free the text from a past which deals with individuals performing actions sequentially in real time. Through organization we free the past from its temporal and causal order by imposing on it another rhetorical organization. The result is text which is at a maximum distance from the events it is talking about.

As we have already said, not all historical discourse is necessarily abstract. We have seen that historians do use ordinary language to exemplify their interpretations (as in the biography of Michelangelo). What we find in the discourse of history is a 'shunting' along the scale of abstraction: texts such as Michelangelo being towards the non-abstract end, and texts such as Revival of Classical Studies towards the most abstract end. In other words, the more history moves away from narrative towards interpretation, the more abstract and 'distant' the text becomes.

6. Conclusions

The source of history is narrative. It is people who did things to each other in real time and space. However, narrative is not history. Given that history's job is to arrange, interpret and generalize from facts of the recoverable past, narrative is not equipped to do this. Historians must be able to take language out of its immediate context - i.e. 'abstract' or 'distance' language from the then-and-there. They do this by marshalling the resources of grammatical metaphor which provide the means for generalizing experience and organizing information.

We described the process of getting history out of narrative as a 'technology of abstraction'. It is not only a technology whose functions and procedures are never made explicit; it is also a technology which diametrically opposes the 'doing' of history and the 'learning' of history. For the historian, the process of 'doing history' involves firstly observing the 'story', then gathering and storing relevant facts, and finally producing an interpretation. However, in learning 'about history' this process is reversed: textbooks present first the interpretation, then the relevant facts, and finally as exemplification the story.

Thus, far from bringing the past 'to life', the discourse of history seeks to maximize the distance between what people did then and how we write about it now. The 'Story of people' serves only as the point of departure in this process of distancing the recoverable past.


APPENDIX 1:

Analyses for Text 1: Michelangelo

1. Text divided into conjunctively relatable units, showing nominalizations

Text 1: Michelangelo (1475-1561) (Biography)

97


2 He was one of the last great Renaissance artists, 3 for by the time of his death in 1564 Italy was falling into decline 4 Initially he concentrated on sculpture. .

5 At Florence in 1501 he began to carve a figure of David from a huge block of marble.

6 This was finished in 1504 7 when he was twenty-nine.

8 David was shown with a sling on his shoulder, gomg to fight Goliath. 9 The statue was fourteen feet high.

10 While in Rome

11 he was asked by Pope Julius II to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. 12 F~r four years from 15.08 till 15~ 2 Michelangelo worked on this task lying on

hzs back at the ~op of. hzgh scaffoldmg, his neck stiff, paint trickling onto his face. 13 The pope was zmpatzent {{to see the decoration of the Sistine Chapel completed] 1 14 and made numerous enquiries about progress. 15 When Michelangelo replied 'It will be finished when I shall have done all that

I believe is required to satiify art '. 16 Pope Julius finally lost his temper

17 and said that if it were not at once completed he would have the artist thrown from the scaffolding.

18 Michelangelo hastily removed the scaffolding. 19 On the ceiling he depicted many Biblical scenes. 20 Among the 340 large figures were [[God creating the sun and moon]], Noah and

the Flood, and [[David sitting astride Goliath' s neckll.

2. Participants in Text 1

1. Human - specific Michelangelo Michelangelo he he



Internal External

:> Q exp/casual

4-

Imp/similaritY/fig < 5

6 7 > exp/slmultaneous

11

12

13 exp/addltlve

14

::.~ exp/addltlve 17

18

19 Imp/similarity/eo <

20

ex p/slmu ltansoUIJ

Imp/calual

Imp/luccelslve

Imp/calual

el( p/slmu ltaneoUs

Imp/casual

Imp/casual

Figure 5.1 Conjunctive relations in Michelangelo

he he David Goliath he Pope Julius II Michelangelo his neck the pope

M ichelangelo Pope Julius his temper he the artist Michelangelo he God


Adam and Eve leaving th~ Garden of Eden, Noah and the Flood, and David sitting astride Goliath's neck

2) Human - generic sculptor, painter, architect and poet another outstanding man of the Renaissance one of the last great Renaissance artists

3) Non-human: time/place Italy the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

4) Non-human: other metaphorical this task the decoration of the Sistine Chapel

5) Non-human: other: concrete sculpture a figure of David this the statue the scaffolding many Biblical scenes the sun and moon

3. Theme in Text 1

99


2 He was one of the last great Renaissance artists 3 ]Or (by the time of his death in 1564) Italy was falling into decline. 4 (Initially) he concentrated on sculpture. 5 (At Florence in 1501) he began to carve a figure of David from a huge block of

marble. 6 This was finished in 1504 7 Wiliiz he was twenty-nine 8 David was shown with a sling on his shoulder, going to fight Goliath.


9 The statue was jourteen jeet high. 10 (While in Rome) 11 he was asked by Pope Julius II to paint the ceiling oj the Sistine Chapel. 12 (For jour years jrom 1508 till 1512) Michelangelo worked on this task lying on

his back at the top oj high scaffolding, his neck stiff, paint trickling onto his jace. 13 The pope was impatient to see the decoration oj the Sistine Chapel completed 14 and (*) made numerous enquiries about progress 15 (WfiinMichelangelo replied 'It will be jinished when I shall have done all that

I believe is required to satisfy art',) 16 Pope Julius jinally lost his temper . 17 and (*) said that if it were not at once completed he would have the artzst thrown

jrom the scaffolding. 18 Michelangelo hastily removed the scaffolding. 19 (On the ceiling) he depicted many Biblical scenes. 20 (Among the 340 large jigures) were God creating the sun and moon, Adam and

Eve leaving the Garden oj Eden, Noah and the Flood, and David sitting astride Goliath's neck.

Key: underlined words

APPENDIX 2

) (*)

Theme Marked Theme Theme ellipsis

Analyses for Text 2: Art and Architecture

1. Text divided into conjunctively relatable units, showing nominalizations

Text 2: Art and Architecture (Report)

1 Whilst we may admire and respect other cultural aspects oj the Classical Renaissance,

2 our greatest appreciation is usually reserved jor those examples oj art and architecture [[which are still in existence today, and whose beauty and merit we can see jor ourselves)].

3 In Florence and Milan, Rome and London are many magnificent Renaissance buildings, still in daily use.

4 Displayed in museums and private collections throughout the world are splendid works by Renaissance artists.

5 These creations portray jor us at least some examples oj Renaissance inspiration.

6 The ruins oj classical buildings provided models jor jifteenth century architects. 7 An appreciation oj the beauty and utility oj classical architecture developed,


8 and Greek columns and Roman arches became part oj the developing Renaissance style.

9 Brunelleschi (1377-1446) jor example, deduced Ionic, Doric and Corinthian building styles jrom close examination oj Roman ruins.

10 He used this knowledge. 11 to plan a dome jor the Florence Cathedral in 1417. 12 Architecturally this was a difficult task 13 and its success was repeated in the dome oj St Peter's in Rome. 14 The building oj St Peter's Basilica was started by Pope Julius II in 1506. 15 The cathedral was jinally completed in 1626. 16 It was the greatest building in the Renaissance style and the greatest Christian

church. 17 The painters oj the Renaissance turned to the classics jor inspiration 18 and took delight in [[depicting the beauty oj the human body]]. 19 In this respect, too, there was a turning away jrom mediaeval interests, 20 jor mediaeval painters ojten used art 21 to teach Christian ideals. 22 Renaissance painters still adopted Christian subjects, 23 but they also depicted ancient pagan themes. 24 It was an age of individualism 25 and painting oj portraits became jashionable, 26 particularly as important men in state, church and business often acted as patrons

oj artists. 27 Amongst outstanding painters were: Giotto oj Florence (1266-1336), the jirst

great Renaissance painter who rediscovered perspective in painting; Leonardo da Vinci (1453-1519), who spent much oj his life in Florence and Milan; Michelangelo (1475-1564), who divided his time between Florence and Rome; Raphael (1483-1520), who spent most oj his short life in Rome; and Titian (about 1487-1576), a Venetian painter who used rich colors and was a great portrait painter.

28 Two oj these, da Vinci and Michelangelo, deserve special attention.


1) Human - specific Brunelleschi he Pope Julius 11 Giotto oj Florence Leonardo da Vinci M ichelangelo Raphael Titian da Vinci and Michelangelo



Internal

Imp/slm lIarlty lie

i Imp/slmllarlty/eg I

3

'" 6

e

7 exp/addltlve

8

9

10> 11

12 exp/addltlve

13

14

16

16

17

HI

195: 20

21

External exp/contrast

exp/purpose

exp/casual

exp/purpose

22

> "exp/contrll.st 23

24 eX P/addltlVEl5: Imp/caeual

25 exp/casual

26

27

28

Figure 5.2 Conjunctive relations in Art and Architecture


2) Human - generic we our greatest appreciation we Renaissance artists the painters of the Renaissance medieval painters important men in state, church and business Renaissance painters they

3) Non-human: time/place

4) Non-human: other: metaphorical other cultural aspects of the Classical Renaissance those examples of art and architecture whose beauty and merit splendid works these creations some examples of Renaissance inspiration an appreciation of the beauty and utility of classical architecture part of the developing Renaissance style Ionic, Doric and Corinthian building styles this knowledge this a difficult task its success the building of St Peter's Basilica the beauty of the human body a turning away from medieval interests art Christian ideals Christian subjects ancient pagan themes it an age of individualism painting of portraits special attention

5) non-human: other: concrete many different Renaissance buildings the ruins of classical buildings models Greek columns and Roman arches a dome the Cathedral it

103


the greatest building in the Renaissance style the greatest Christian church

3. Theme in Text 2

1 (Whilst we may admire and respect other cultural aspects of the Classical Renaissance. )

2 our greatest appreciation is usually reserved for those examples of art and architecture which are still in existence today, and whose beauty and merit we can see for ourselves.

3 (In Florence and Milan, Rome and London) are many magnificent Renaissance building, still in daily use.

4 Displayed in museums and private collections throughout the world are splendid works by Renaissance artists.

5 These creations portray for us at least some examples of Renaissance inspiration. 6 The ruins of classical buildings provided models for fifteenth century architects. 7 An appreciation of the beauty and utility of classical architecture developed, 8 and Creek columns and Roman arches became part of the developing Renaissance

style. 9 Brunelleschi (1377-1446) for example, deduced Ionic, Doric and Corinthian

building styles from close examination of Roman ruins. 10 He used this knowledge 11 to plan a dome for the Florence Cathedral in 141 7. 12 (Architecturally) this was a difficult task 13 and its success was repeated in the dome of St Peter's in Rome. 14 The building of St Peter's Basilica was started by Pope Julius II in 1506. 15 The cathedral was finally completed in 1626. 16 It was the greatest building in the Renaissance style and the greatest Christian

Church 17 The painters of the Renaissance turned to the classics for inspiration 18 and (*) took delight in depicting the beauty of the human body. 19 TrlifiZS respect, too, there was a turning away from mediaeval interests, 20 for mediaeval painters often used art 21 to teach Christian ideals. 22 Renaissance painters still adopted Christian subjects, 23 but they also depicted ancient pagan themes. 24 It was an age of individualism 25 and painting of portraits became fashionable. 26 particularly as important men in state, church and business often acted as patrons

of artists. 27 Amongst outstanding painters were: Ciotto of Florence (1266-1336), the first

great Renaissance painter who rediscovered perspective in painting; Leonardo da Vinci (1453-1519), who spent much of his life in Florence and Milan; Michelangelo (1475-1564), who divided his time between Florence and Rome; Raphael (1483-1520), who spent most of his short life in Rome; and Titian (about 1487-1576), a Venetian painter who used rich colors and was a great


portrait painter. 28 Two of these, da Vinci and Michelangelo, deserve special attention.

Key: underlined words ( )

(*)

APPENDIX 3

Theme Marked Theme Theme ellipsis

Analyses for Text 3: Revival of Classical Studies

1. Text divided into corifunctively relatable units, showing nominalizations

Text 3: Revival of Classical Studies in Italy (Argument)

1 There were a number qf reasons [[why the Renaissance began in Italyll. 2 Italy had been the centre of the Roman Empire,

105

3 and all over the country monuments and buildings provided a reminder of Rome's past greatness, as well as an inspiration for a revival of classical culture.

4 A second reason was [[that in Italy there were many independent cities [[in which lived a large middle class, as well as a large professional class of lawyers, doctors and clergymenllll.

5 The cities were expanding economically, 6 they had an active social life, 7 and this encouraged intellectual experiment and progress. 8 Cities like Florence, Milan, Rome and Venice were important centres of the

Renaissance. 9 Under such patrons as Lorenzo the Magnificent in Florence, the Visconti and

Sforza families in Milan, and Pope Nicholas V in Rome, artists, sculptors and scholars worked

10 to glorify their patrons, 11 and at the same time beautify their cities. 12 Because of her trading activities Italy tended to be a crossroads between East and

West, feeling the influence of Constantinople and the cities of western Asia, as well as that of Europe.

13 To Rome, the capital of Christendom, came scholars and pilgrims from all over the known world.

14 Traders, bankers, merchants, travellers, artists and craftsmen stimulated economic life,

15 and brought new knowledge, new ideas and new techniques to the Italian cities, particularly in the north.

16 As the Turks conquered large sections of the Byzantine Empire in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries,


Internal Imp/elm Ilarl ty leg

(I)

Imp/elmllarlty leg (11)

Imp/elm lIarlty/eg (Ill)

Imp/elm lIarlty/eg (a)

Imp/elm lIarlty/eg Cb)

Imp/elm lIarlty/eg (c)

8xp/manner

Imp/elm lIarltylle

~xternal

4

up/purpose

exp/almultaneoue

12

13

16

> exp/almultaneou8 17

< 18

19

Figure 5.3 Conjunctive relations in Revival 0] Classical Studies in Italy

17 many rifugee Greek scholars fled to nearby Italy bringing valuable ancient manuscripts with them.

18 Thus in Italy prosperity, a large number of educated men, the introduction of new ideas from other lands, a varied political structure and visible relics of ancient times encouraged the Renaissance.

19 History, economics, geography and politics contributed to produce the Italian Renaissance.




1) Human - specific

2) Human - generic a large middle class a large professional class of lawyers, doctors and clergymen artists, sculptors and scholars their patrons scholars and pilgrims traders, bankers, merchants, travellers, artists and craftsmen the Turks many rifugee Greek scholars

3) Non-human: time/place The Renaissance Italy the centre of the Roman Empire Cities like Florence, Milan, Rome and Venice centres of the Renaissance Italy large sections of the Byzantine Empire the Renaissance the Italian Renaissance the cities many independent cities they their cities a crossroads between East and West

4) Non-human: other: metaphorical A number of reasons a reminder of Rome's past greatness an inspiration for a revival of classical culture a second reason an active social life intellectual experiment and progress

107

the influence of Constantinople and the cities of western Asia, as well as that of Europe economic life new knowledge, new ideas and new techniques prosperity, a large number of educated men, the introduction of new ideas f~om other lands, a varied political structure and visible relics of ancient tzmes History, economics, geography and politics


5) Non-human: other: concrete monuments and buildings valuable ancient manuscripts

3. Theme analysis jor Text 3

1 There were a number oj reasons why the Renaissance began in Italy. 2 Italy had been the centre oj the Roman Empire, 3 and(all over the country) monuments and buildings provided a reminder oj Rome's

past greatness, as well as an inspiration jor a revival oj classical culture. 4 A second reason was that in Italy there were many independent cities in which

lived a large middle class, as well as a large projessional class oj lawyers, doctors and clergymen.

5 The cities were expanding economically, 6 they had an active social life, 7 an;] this encouraged intellectual experiment and progress. 8 Cities like Florence, Milan, Rome and Venice were important centres oj the

Renaissance. 9 (Under such patrons as Lorenzo the Magnificent in Florence, the Visconti and

Sjorza jamilies in Milan, and Pope Nicholas V in Rome.) artists, sculptors and scholars worked

10 to glorify their patrons, 11 and (at the same time) beautify their cities. 12 (Because oj her trading activities) Italy tended to be a crossroads between East and

West, jeeling the influence oj Constantinople and the cities oj western Asia, as well as that oj Europe.

13 (To Rome, the capital oj Christendom,) came scholars and pilgrims jrom all over the known world.

14 Traders, bankers, merchants, travellers, artists and crajtsmen stimulated economic life,

15 and (*) brought new knowledge, new ideas and new techniques to the Italian cities, particularly in the north.

16 (As the Turks conquered large sections oj the Byzantine Empire in the jourteenth and jifteenth centuries.)

17 many rifugee Greek scholars fled to nearby Italy bringing valuable ancient manuscripts with them.

18 Thus (in Italy) prosperity, a large number oj educated men, the introduction oj new ideas jrom other lands, a varied political structure and visible relics oj ancient times encouraged the Renaissance.

19 HIStory, economics, geograPhy and politics contributed to produce the Italian Renaissance.

Key: underlined words )

(*)

Theme marked Theme Theme ellipsis


References

Barcan, Alan, Tom Blunden, Alan Dwight, Stephen Shortus (1972), Bifore yesterday: aspects of European history to 1789. Survey and Depth 1, Melbourne, Macmillan.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1985a), An Introduction to Functional Grammar, London, Edward Arnold.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1985b), Spoken and Written Language, Geelong, Deakin University Press.

New South Wales Secondary Schools Board Syllabus in History Years 7-10 (Approved by the Secondary Schools Board for introduction in Years 7, 8, 9 in 1981 and Year 10 in 1982) Government Printer, 1980.

Wignell, Peter, J.R. Martin and Suzanne Eggins (1987), The Discourse of Geography: ordering and explaining the experiential world, Working Papers in Linguistics. Volume Five. University of Sydney, Linguistics Department.

6 Species of metaphor In written and spoken varieties Andrew Goatly

The traditional approach to register analysis has been to take a field of human discourse, conversation, advertising, commentary, or whatever, and to describe the linguistic features which make it distinctive. It is perfectly possible, however, and indeed necessary, to take a complementary approach in which a linguistic feature of some kind is observed as it is manifested in texts belonging to different registers. I say that it is necessary because stylistics, varieties description or register analysis, whichever term we use, is essentially a comparative exercise concerned with norms and degrees of probability of occurrence. Even when no explicit comparison is made between the linguistic features of texts belonging to different registers, there is an intuitive and implicit comparison going on in the very search for distinctiveness. I can hardly say that the use of the present (simple) tense to describe actions which are taking place at the time of speaking is a distinctive feature of the variety known as un scripted commentary unless I have the intuitive notion that the norm for such descriptions is to use the present-in-present (present continuous).

The functional/systemic tradition of grammatical and semiotic analysis within which many of the articles in this volume are written recognizes that meaning depends on choice and attempts to describe the system from which these choices are made. It too, then, is comparative in that any choice made in the system implies the rejection of other choices and invites comparison between the actual choice and the possible alternatives. Chapter 5 in this volume, which discusses the Grammatical Metaphors used in a school history text-book, illustrates this systemic approach. There are choices available in mapping language on to the events of history, some of which are more congruent with our perception of reality than others. For example, the choice of whether to use a verb to represent an event or to use a nominalization is a crucial one. Eggins, Wignell and Martin demonstrate that different sub-varieties of history text will make the choice in different ways, some more congruent than others. Their chapter, then, is a demonstration of the complpmentarity of approaches mentioned above.

MET APBORS IN WRITTEN AND SPOKEN VARIETIES 111

It is a description of the register of history textbooks which nevertheless makes explicit comparisons of linguistic features (clause types and nominalization) by contrasting their use in some of the different subvarieties of this variety.

This chapter takes a rather broader comparative view. It is broader in two senses: it does not deal with Grammatical Metaphor as such but considers all the major types of lexical metaphor, as these may be distinguished syntactically and semantically; and it attempts to show which of these species of metaphors are most commonly encountered in a number of varieties: Conversation, News Reporting, Popular Science, Advertising and Poetry.

1. Varieties of metaphor

1.1. Word class varieties

The most obvious way of classifying metaphors is to categorize them according to ~he word class to which the non-literal item belongs. Metaphors can readIly be found which fall into all the major word-classes. (See texts used jor examples at the end of this chapter for abbreviations in parentheses. )

NOUNS

1) Director Matt Busby, the Godfather oj the club . . . (DM 31)

2) Your little peach could be our 30th Miss Pears. (GB 17)

3) The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there. (TGB 1)

4) The raindrop eye . . . (AL )

5) She was a sort oj colourless mouse !if a woman. (CEC 99)

VERBS

6) There are certain areas oj the syllabus that students queue up for. (CEC 520)

7) Whether ambling at 35 m.p. h. . ... (P 67)

8) The lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith. . (MD 832)

9) Winds stampeding the jields ... (TH 24)

10) She did not so much cook as assassinate food. (PDMQ 172)

112 ANDREW GOATL Y

ADJECTIVES 11) 'I expect a treaty, a fulljledged treaty on medium-range missiles '. (DT 6)

12) My problem was a bit unfathomable. (GEG 704)

13) Other tiles may seem a little flat. (GH 211)

14) Down the vast edges drear and naked shingles of the world . .. (DB)

15) The air was thick with a bass chorus. (SH 16)

ADVERBS 16) Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of Saturn. (MD 1291)

17)

18)

a rather heavily qualified aggressive sort of applicant. (GEG 534)

thinly-populated areas . . . (DT 1)

19) He was fully sensible to the advantages of the instalment plan. (UG)

20) But as he walked King Arthur panted hard. (MA)

PREPOSITIONS 21) Is there anyone apart from you that is strong on that? GEG 519)

22) If we're going to talk about it. (GEG 524)

23) A right extremist group is suspected of being behind the killing. (DT 3)

24) Joan Jackson is under thirty. (GEG 540)

25) Saunders was arrested within hours of returning to Britain. (DM 2)

The reader has probably noticed that metaphors expressed by adverbs and prepositions are generally less easily recognized than those based on nouns, verbs and adjectives. When we discuss interpretative varieties below we will explore the reasons for this.

It would be wrong to assume that metaphorical units extend only over the single word or single lexical item. To give a few examples, they may extend over verb phrases (in the generative grammar sense) i.e. predicates:

26) Although Atkinson lost that fight . . . (DM 30)

prepositional phrases:

27) You never know what's around the corner. (GH 38-9)

METAPHORS IN WRITTEN AND SPOKEN VARIETIES 113

nouns phrases post-modified by prepositional phrases or by clauses:

28) Sex is only the liquid centre of the great Newbury Fruit of friendship. (PDMQljc)

29) Mankind is a club to which we owe a subscription. (PDMQlgkc)

and verbs + adverbials:

30) . . . until James Callaghan is washed up onto the pebbles of the Upper House. (DT 16)

A particularly important variety of metaphor is one which extends over the sentence or clause. To this variety belong proverbs such as:

31) Too many cooks spoil the broth.

32) A rolling stone gathers no moss.

Such metaphorical sentences are by no means always proverbs:

33) A man will tell you that he has worked in a mine for forty years unhurt by an accident, as a reason why he should apprehend no danger, through the roof is beginning to sink; and it is often observable that the older a man gets, the more difficult it is to him to retain a believing conception of his own death. (SM 42)

. There is even a sense in which metaphors can extend over whole texts, In .that one can make a case for a novel being an extended metaphor, a POInt we touch on below in relation to the role of imagination in metaphorical interpretation.

1.2. Syntactic varieties

Befo:e we venture. to discuss syntactic varieties of metaphor we need some ~ermInolo~y for dIscussing the objects, concepts and similarities/analogies Involved In the pr?cess of constructing and interpreting metaphorical language, terms whIch are better defined than the rather loose non-literal items. and metaphorical units used up to now. I shall adopt the framework provld~d b~ Leech (1969) following Richards (1965). :0 slmphfy matters I shall assume that metaphor involves parts of a text bemg used to refer not to their conventional referents but unconventionally to other objects or concepts. The label I use for 'the conventional referent of the referring term is the vehicle. The label I use for the unconventional object or concept is the tenor. I shall also assume that this act of unconventional reference is understood on the basis of similarity or

114 ANDREW GOATL Y

analogy involving the tenor and vehicle. The similarities or analogies involved I shall call the ground. So that in 3) above the concept 'foreign country' is the vehicle, the concept 'the past' is the tenor and the similarity the ground, is the fact that in both foreign countries and in the past 'things are done differently'. To distinguish these objects/concepts from the language used to express them we can use the labels vehicle-term, tenorterm and ground-term. (These will be indicated in the quoted text by bold, underlining and dotted underlining respectively.)

When discussing syntactic varieties of metaphors we are basically considering the varieties of syntax used to connect vehicle-term with tenorterm and/or ground term. The most common of these structures for relating tenor-term and vehicle term are the following:

APPOSITION: e.g. 1) Director Matt Busby, the godfather 0] the club . .. (DM 31)

34) ... their rounds have been open-ended, without a ]inal date. (DT 6)

35) How did that good girl, that uninscribed tablet receive these violations? (FF 123)

EQUATION/ATTRIBUTION: e.g. 36) Mr Carew and Miss Manning were our Adam and Eve . . . (FF 229)

12) My problem was a bit unfathomable. (CEC 704)

3) The past is a foreign country, t~el.. ~~. ~~!~$.~. ~if!~r.~~~t;:. !~.~~e. (TGB 1)

GENITIVE CONSTRUCTIONS: e.g. 5) She was a sort 0] colourless mouse 0] a ~. (CEC 99)

37) We roll back the lid 0] the sardine tin 0] life. PDMQlab)

38) the :?1!:1.~ sandpaper 0] his hand . .. (MD 1029)

27) (Sex is only the liquid centre 0]) the great Newbury Fruit 0] ]riendship. (PDMQ 86)

Whereas in all the above examples the tenor term specifies clearly the tenor of the metaphor, in some cases it does no more than indicate the semantic field to which the tenor belongs, e.g.

39) (Catalonia) is the nose 0] the earth. (PBMQlDali94)

40) She shook out her mane 0] red hai~. (DM 17)

Interpretations of such tenor-indicated metaphors are more likely to involve


analogy in their interpretation than pure similarity: e.g. nose: human :: Catalonia: earth.

PREDICATE CONSTRUCTIONS: These necessarily involve tenor-indication rather than tenor-specification.

9) Winds stampeding the ]ields . . . (TH 24)

41) Their (frogs] blunt heads farting ... (SH 16)

10) (She did not so much cook as) assassinate food. (PDMQ 172)

They can be analysed and interpreted by filling in the missing parts of the tenor-terms and vehicle-terms to create an analogy:

T-TERM: V-TERM:

Heads [Bottoms]

MODIFYING CONSTRUCTIONS (NOUN PHRASES)

42) a cat burglar (DT 5)

43) a plum seat (FAE 143)

4) The raindrop eye (AL)

44) Their eely legs (MD 1220)

[croaking] ]arting

14) Down the vast edges drear and naked shingles 0] the world . .. (DB)

45) ... a sweet-tempered little breeze. ing all at once. (HSG 217)

set a thousand leafy tongues whisper-

Modifying constructions usually have the vehicle-term as modifier and the tenor-term as noun head, though there are interesting exceptions as in 45. The modification of nouns seems most strongly metaphorical when the modifier is a noun, though adjectives are used as vehicle-terms as well.

It is also worthwhile cataloguing some of the most common syntactic formulae for specifying the grounds of a metaphor.

GENITIVE

46) The ~~~~i.~!{. $.~~~~.?! a young bough

MODIFICATION

47) a ~~l~~.t effigy (LF 95)

48) potato ~~~p'~s (PM 25)

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50) a sack, ~~~l . . ~~.4 .. ~~~~~~:~~~~~% (FF 48)

51) a richly written book to instruct that man (TS 192)

PREDlCA TE CONSTR UCTIONS

53) the serpent ~i~~ .. ~~~~e.4.!~ my own body. (PM 163)

There remains an important class of metaphors which seem to operate in relative syntactic isolation from their co-text. Such metaphors have been dubbed replacement metaphors. (Brooke-Rose 1958) or substitution metaphors (for discussion see Black 1962: 224). It might be possible to view the metaphorical words in 5 and 43, cited above, as replacements for words such as quiet, and desirable respectively. Metaphorical expressions with sentence-long vehicle terms, such as proverbs (see examples 31-33) are necessarily regarded as statements of specific instances which are substituting for generalizations; one member of a class representing the

whole class. It is also necessary to discuss the relationship between simile and

metaphor at this point. Metaphorical expressions often seem to involve a stronger sense of contradiction than simile expressions, to make statements which cannot possibly be true in the world as we know it. Similes soften or remove entirely this sense of contradiction. However one can conceive simile expressions as either i) a means of making explicit the kinds of interpretations involved when metaphors are understood, i.e. making explicit the grounds of an equivalent metaphor, or ii) signalling that some kind of comparison or analogy is needed if the expression is to be understood e.g.

i) 54) He is strong as a lion. ii) 55) 0 my love's like a red, red rose.

Because the same kind of interpretive process seems to be taking place m understanding metaphors and similes, there are insights to be gained m considering both together.

1.3. Interpretative varieties

SUBSTITUTION One theory of metaphorical interpretation suggests that a metaphorical expression should be regarded as substituting for another more literal expression. For example the words a monkey can be regarded as substituting for the word mischievous in 56.


56) Thomas is a monkey

According to this theory the meaning of the sentence is 'Thomas is mischievous' .

Unfortunately this theory only works in the case of what I shall call inactive metaphors, metaphorical expressions which have, to a large extent, acquired a second conventional meaning. The fact that this is so in the case of monkey can be verified by consulting a dictionary, where one will find, in addition to the primary conventional meaning of a species of mammal, this second conventional meaning 'mischievous'. Dictionaries are, by their nature, repositories of inactive metaphorical expressions, not to say cemeteries of dead and buried ones. It would be curious to base a theory of metaphor solely on this class of metaphorical expression, and for the more active metaphors we will need a different theory.

INTERACTION

It is to the interactive theory of metaphorical interpretation that the terms tenor, vehicle and ground are most applicable. It will have been noticed in the brief discussion of substitution theories, that, according to that theory there is no need for both the terms tenor and ground, or to put it another way, tenor and ground appear to be merged. In interactive metaphorical interpretations, on the other hand, there is some kind of interaction between tenor and vehicle concepts and their associations. If, for example, one takes the metaphor

57) A battle is a game of chess.

features of the tenor, battle, are selected, emphasized or suppressed according to what grounds i.e. features or associations of the vehicle, chess, can be applied to the tenor, battles. The grounds that are selected and emphasized might be positions, relationships and status of combatants casualties, and the speed of movement of forces. The features which ar~ suppressed would include topography, type of weapons, supply routes, etc. By calling this process interactive the theory calls attention to the fact that identical vehicles with different tenors will give rise to different grounds and different interpretations. For example if I say

58) What a sewer the River Tyne is.!

it could well be that the interpretation of the vehicle-term will be quite different in this co-textual environment from what it would in the following example:

59) The kidney is the sewer of the body.

In other words 58 seems more likely to involve affective grounds, and 59 functional grounds.

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We have seen then that there are two kinds of metaphorical interpretation: substitution and interaction. And that generally speaking the former kind of interpretation has a degree of conventionality about it which allows it to be relatively independent of co-text. But we need to consider more fully what is going on when unconventional metaphors are interpreted interactively.

The first problem that faces the interpreter of such metaphors is to register the fact that a metaphorical interpretation is intended. There are various devices used for signalling this fact. Some metaphors are signalled by explicit markers, e.g. metaphorically speaking, as it were, so to speak, etc. Some are signalled by deviant semantic relations between parts of a clause, what generative grammarians refer to as selectional restrictions. For example, in

60) The ship ploughed the waves.

there is a semantic incompatibility between the subject the ship and the verb ploughed and between the verb and its object the waves. In other cases some kind of equation between two incompatible semantic categories is what alerts us to the metaphor as, for example in 57. Further signals of the presence of a metaphor might involve the notion of the irrelevance of the literally interpreted vehicle-term to the topic of the discourse, or more technically, in terms introduced by Grice, the flouting of the maxim of relevance. For example in 61 the topic seems to be plants rather than funerals so that shroud in its literal sense seems irrelevant:

61) The bulbs in the Wedgwood basalt were her gifts and she had wept, unwrapping them from their white florist shrouds. (VIG 105)

Additionally one could also regard the use of tenor terms as having the subsidiary function of signalling the existence of a metaphor, a role which is clearly related to the last two methods of signalling. Lastly, similes, as I have pointed out, can be regarded as metaphors which have been signalled to such an extent that they have become literal.

Once an expression has been identified as needing metaphorical interpretation the reader/hearer has to do two other things: identify the tenor and the grounds. The most common syntactic formulae for specifying the tenor and grounds have been discussed above. However, to demonstrate the complexity of the process of interpreting an interactive metaphor and the possible multiplicity of grounds the reader is invited to consider the following interpretation of a Shakespearean metaphor (based on Empson, 1953).

62) That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none or few do hang Upon those boughs, which shake against the cold

Bare ruined choirs, ~~~:~ . .z~,.t.e .. ~~~. :.u:.e~~ birds ~~~$.


Bare specifies one ground, linking boughs in winter with the ruined choirs which, after the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, were equally bare. Where late the ... sang also specifies further grounds, since choirs, by definition, and boughs, contingently, are places where singing takes place. By supplying the missing part of the vehicle-term corresponding to birds, i.e. choirboys, we can extend the metaphor and fill in the missing parts of the analogy:

birds: boughs :: choirboys: choir

Empson suggests that choirboys is the best choice here, in that, in the context of the homosexual love relationship of the sonnets sweet will then be highlighted as a ground, reinforcing the emotional tone of the metaphor. Empson goes on to suggest the further ground, a feature common to birds in boughs and boys in a choir - the fact that they sit/stand in rows. The semantic feature /wooden/ is part of the intrinsic meaning of boughs and is a contingent feature of most choirstalls. Another figure of speech, synecdoche, which depends on part-whole relationships, can be applied to the vehicle. Doing so, we recognize that a choir is part of a church, and other parts of a church are the pillars, vaulting and windows; and applying synecdoche to the tenor we realize that a bough is a part of a tree and that other parts of trees include trunks, branches and leaves. We have now created extra metaphors with these vehicles and tenors: pillars-trunks; vaulting-branches; windows-leaves. The grounds for these three subsidiary metaphors are primarily visual appearance, and, in the case of the third, colour.

1.3.1. Revitalizing metaphors It is possible for inactive metaphors to reach the stage where they are more or less sleeping or dead. We can describe sleeping metaphors as those expressions that have become so conventionalized that they have acquired a second meaning which, under normal circumstances, can be directly accessed without evoking the vehicle. So, for example, if the word crane is used to refer to the machine for lifting and hoisting used in the construc~ion industry, the vehicle of the original metaphor (the long-necked bird) l~ no longer brought to mind. However, it is possible, under the right Clrcumstances, to wake these sleeping or dead metaphors into activity once again. One of the ways of doing so is to use a lexical item from the same lexical field before or immediately after the sleeping metaphorical expresSlOn e.g.

63) He'll be worn out long bifore his shoes are. (GH 51)

64) Master the four basic steps of this recipe and you'll soon be able to walk the more exotic stir fry dishes. (GH 123)

A more thorough, but less common kind of revitalization occurs when

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not only the vehicle of the original metaphor but also the grounds of that metaphor are brought to mind:

65) There was a pause of a kind of woollen silence, prickly, hot, uncomfortable. (DV 128)

It seems that the word prickly meaning 'cantankerous' not only seems to have its original vehicle evoked by the word woollen, since wool worn close to the skin is prickly, but also the original ground: prickly people are so called because they are uncomfortable to be with.

1.3.2. Derivation and denominal metaphors It is interesting to consider the opposite process from that of revitalization, the draining of energy from metaphors. No doubt this de-activating occurs when metaphors become used repeatedly in different co-texts with more or less identical meanings. But of particular interest is the way in which processes of word derivation can accelerate this effect.

It is clear that the act of derivation whether by conversion (same word form used as different part of speech), suffixation, or compounding is often intimately linked with metaphor. Examples which involve similarity or resemblance are numerous in the conversions of nouns into verbs: dog, parrot, hog, shepherd, butcher, purse, sandwich, telescope, etc.: or the compounding of nouns: zebra crossing, bottleneck, frogman, hermit crab, crow's-nest, foolscap, hogshead, etc.: or the suffixation of nouns to produce adjectives: sheepish, hazy, bulbous, Wagnerian, elephantine, golden, meteoric, etc.

All such examples can be regarded as bringing about the lexicalization of metaphor, which implies the establishment of a conventional meaning for the derived form which can be listed in a dictionary. By doing so these derivational processes, even to a greater extent than simile, both signal and weaken or kill the metaphors they incorporate. The weakening process is particularly strong in the case of denominal derivation, derivation from nouns to verbs or from nouns to adjectives, and we ought to consider why this should be.

Typically, of course, nouns are used to refer to things, verbs to actions. We can be rather more precise about what we mean by things and actions by using the philosophical terms first-order entity and second-order entity. Lyons (1977: 442) describes the characteristics of first-order entities thus:

a) Relative permanence b) Public observability c) Location in space

And of second-order entities as follows:

d) Occurrence rather than existence e) Location in time


We can explore the consequences of the fact that nouns typically refer to first-order and verbs to second-order entities when we consider the following two pairs of examples:

66) He jerked the limpet away from him and the tent made a little flip of waler in the sea. (PM 63)

67) The seas tented up his oilskin till the skirt was crumpled above the waist. (PM 37)

68) They arranged themselves round Mal, huddling In, holding him in a cradle of warm flesh. (TI 39)

69) Then Piggy was standing cradling the great cream shell. (LF 37)

Even from the first pair, where the verb tented up is not lexicalized sufficiently to be included in a dictionary, the contrast in metaphorical activity is clear. Example 66 is much more active. Because first-order entities are publicly observable they can be imagined and give rise to visual imagery, which becomes one source of the richness of the metaphorical expression in 66. There are multiple grounds here: certain tents are shaped remarkably like limpets, with slight ridges where the supporting frame supports the canvas; both are inhabited by living creatures; a well-fixed tent is as firmly attached to the earth as a limpet to a rock. In 67, by contrast, we feel that a substitution interpretation is possible, that the metaphor loses little by being paraphrased the seas pushed up his oilskin. If we try to evoke an image of a tent in understanding 67, only the comparatively vague grounds of shape and material emerge, suggesting that the author, Golding, did not intend an imagistic interpretation and therefore chose a verb rather than a noun. A similar contrast in metaphorical activity can be seen in 68 and 69, the difference being that to cradle is more lexicalized than to tent up. Cradling refers to a second-order entity, an action, whereas a cradle refers to a first-order entity. As a result the image and multiple features of a cradle are more likely to be evoked in 68 than in 69. In interpreting 68 we have to go through the interactive process to decide what features of cradles are applicable to the people holding Mal. Evidence for this can be seen in the use of the adjective warm to modify the tenor-term, thus guiding our interactive interpretation and narrowing down the grounds: it is a typical quality of cradles to be used for keeping babies both comfortable and warm.

Nouns give us more active metaphors, not only because they evoke images with their multiple associations, but also because, when used in equative/predicative syntactic constructions, they generate a sense of contradiction, appearing to equate or identify two mutually exclusive categories. In 3, above, for example, the equative verb has the feeling of definition about it, the sense that what is being made is an analytic or necessarily true statement, rather than a synthetic statement.

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We have discussed nouns and verbs, but it is worth considering briefly the role of metaphorical prepositions. These seem to be at the other extreme from nouns, having little image potential and being remarkably dead, hence, perhaps, one of the reasons they can be tacked on to verbs to make one kind of phrasal verb. Although it is possible to dig up the literal meaning of on, about, under, by, within in examples 21-25, it seems an unusual interpretative procedure. (Though this does not stop linguists and poets from doing so; see Lakoff and Johnson 1980.)

1.3.3. Combining metaphors

EXTENSION

We have given some indication of how metaphorical expressions can be extended syntactically to acquire a scope of more than one word (see examples 26-33). But very often, besides these syntactically articulated extensions, we notice extensions which depend on the repetition of lexis from the same lexical set in different clauses or sentences of a text. In an advert for the supermarket chain Sainsbury's, for example, the following items appear, applied to cuts of meat: designed, trim neckline, fashionable, neater, tidier, model, collection, and the copy of the ad ends with the punning we wouldn't wear anything less. (W 4-5). Obviously items from the lexical set of clothes and fashion have been deliberately applied to meat and butchery in order to make a humorously extended metaphor.

MIXING Mixed metaphors should be contrasted, primarily, with syntactically articulated extensions. For we feel, and often disapprove of, such metaphors most strongly when two vehicle terms from unrelated lexical sets are syntactically linked. Note that this linking would be deviant even if the terms were being used literally.

70) the campaign to overturn last Wednesday's suspension of Miss Atkin (DT1)

71) Atkinson's charisma and track-record will spark fresh interest among Villa's fed up fans. (DM 30).

Example 70 has two incongruous metaphors, and 71 has perhaps four. Notice that mixed metaphors do not seem deliberate and depend on the fact that at least one of the metaphorical expressions represents an inactive or sleeping metaphor.

1.3.4. Catachretic and root analogy metaphors An interesting class of metaphors are those for which no tenor-term exists. They often arise when some new object, phenomenon or concept needs a label, and instead of inventing a new word-form by borrowing from another language or compounding two words, the language user takes an


existing word-form and uses it for a new referent. Empson (1951: 332-4) distinguished this kind of non-literal language use from metaphor and dubbed it catachresis. It seems unlikely that a metaphorical process is not going on during catachresis. Presumably when the word form crane began to be used to refer to the lifting machine, features of the conventional referent, the bird, in particular its long neck which can be raised and lowered, guided the hearer to a correct identification of the new referent (when the machine was physically present in the context) or at least provided some motivation for the use of the word-form to refer to the new object. This class of metaphors I shall therefore classify as catachretic metaphors.

There is a further class of metaphors without tenor-terms which we might distinguish from catachretic ones. These are manifestations of analogies which are deeply embedded in culture and are to do with the way abstract phenomena are conceptualized. For example, we have great difficulty in conceptualizing time except by making an analogy between time and space. This gives rise to a large number of metaphorical expressions the vehicles of which imply spatial relationships or movement through space: in time, on time, within the month, a long time, short of time, the distant past, time passes, time flies, etc. etc. (See Lakoff and Johnson 1980 passim). Apparently all the lexical resources available for talking about space are at our disposal when we wish to talk about time. I shall call such metaphors root-analogy metaphors.

1.4. Functional Varieties

The discussion of catachretic and root analogy metaphors brings us to the question of what functions metaphors serve. The list which I make below is by no means exhaustive, but seems to represent some of the most frequently encountered functions for which metaphorical expressions are used.

1. FILLING LEXICAL GAPS

We have already seen that the function of catachretic metaphors is to fill lexical gaps. These occur when there is no adequate tenor-term in existence so that extension or transfer of the reference of an existing word-form plugs the gap.

2. EXPLANATION

In the case of catachretic metaphors we noticed that the grounds provided some kind of motivation for the new use of the word-form. When this motivation becomes the central issue, metaphors can be used to explain some relatively abstract concept in terms which are more familiar to the hearers. For example, it is quite common practice for secondary school science students to have electricity explained to them in terms of the metaphor of water-flow through pipes. According to this metaphor the

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abstract concept of voltage is explained in terms of water pressure, resistance in terms of width of pipe, amperage as rate of flow. The purpose of the use of this metaphorical model is to make clear the similarities between electricity and water flow. Actually, dissimilarities should probably also be stressed, lest students should suffer from certain misconceptions about electricity: it might come as quite a shock to learn at a later stage that the flow of electrons is not from positive to negative, but that negatively charged electrons flow from negative to positive.

At a more fundamental level of scientific enquiry metaphors are used to constitute theories or models (Boyd 1979: 359ff.). Take, for example, the fashionable metaphor of the computer to model the workings of the human brain. The introduction of this model or metaphor constitutes a change of theory. It makes certain predictions which can be tested, thereby initiating a programme of scientific research to find out in exactly what ways the operation of the human brain resembles the workings of a computer. In other words, the grounds of this theory-constitutive metaphor are initially open-ended, and research is designed to specify them more exactly. Of course, it is highly likely that certain psychological phenomena cannot be explained in terms of this computer model/metaphor. Scientists will then attempt to propose a new theory-constitutive metaphor which can account for more of the scientific evidence. If we turn to a recent history of physics we find a good example of a change of theory constitutive metaphor: physicists realised the inadequacies of the wave theory of light and therefore put forward the particle theory.

3. RECONCEPTUALIZING Perhaps with theory-constitutive metaphors we are talking not so much about explanation but about reconceptualization. It is interesting to note how certain classes of literary metaphors seem designed to bring about a reconceptualization of experience. They invite us to view our experience from a different perspective by categorizing it with unconventional terms. A small scale example would be the Anglo-Saxon expression, mere-hengest (,horse of the sea'), being applied to a ship. Interpretation of this metaphor involves highlighting features of Anglo-Saxon ships which they share with horses in order to arrive at grounds such as these: (1) both are used for transport; (2) those travelling on/in them experience an upward and downward movement; (3) the shape of a ship's prow resembles the shape of a horse's neck. The reconceptualization of our experience of ships is produced because features which are not central to our concept of ships are highlighted in the second and third ground. (See Leech 1974: 44-5)

One ought perhaps to note that there is a class of expressions which try to do more than effect a momentary reconceptualization, but rather to bring about a permanent re-categorization of experience. Statements such as 72 seem to aim at doing this:

72) Property is thrift.


The speaker of this utterance, the French socialist Proudhon, presumably wished us to regard it as an analytic statment, that is as a definition of property ownership as one type of theft. Non-socialists, and those of a less radical persuasion, are unlikely to accept this statement as literally true, but to interpret it as metaphor: owning property resembles theft in that both deprive others of the enjoyment or use of objects. We can label this kind of attempt to impose an individual's idiosyncratic semantic categories as an impositive function. And we can refer to expressions which the speaker does not regard as metaphorical but which the hearer interprets as metaphor by the term as symmetric metaphors.

4. DECORATION AND DISGUISE

Reconceptualizing, theory-constitutive and impositive metaphors are at the radical extreme of metaphorical use. At the other extreme are metaphors used with a decorative function, used, as it were, to dress up concepts in pretty clothes, rather than to create a new concept by cannibalization of two existing ones. Under this function we can locate metaphorical expressions used euphemistically as a disguise as much as a decoration, e.g.

73) He fell asleep.

meaning 'he died'. And certain kinds of conventional personification common in 18th-century poetry:

74) In the soft bosom of Campania's vale, When now the wintry tempests all are }led And genial Summer breathes her gentle gale The verdant orange lifts its beauteous head. (LL)

5. IMAGINING AND ENHANCING MEMORABILITY

It was pointed out above that metaphorical expressions involving nouns which refer to first-order entities have a particular vitality. This vitality is partly due to the fact that first-order entities can be imagined. Secondorder entities cannot, of course, unless they evoke associated first-order entities. You cannot imagine kicking without imagining a foot. Such imagistic metaphors either intentionally, or as a by-product, enhance memory, because of their visual nature, psychological experiments having shown that imagined items are more easily remembered than non-imagined ones (Honeck et al. 1975).

It is possible, of course to regard a literary narrative as one whole extended metaphor. The concept of the image comes into play here too. In such extended metaphors as literary works we are invited to imagine a whole world in which what happens is literally true. This constrasts with local metaphors in which we interpret statements as being literally untrue and interpret them by positing grounds which will connect the statement with the real world as we know it. With local metaphors we modify the senses of words to fit with our world; in extended metaphors which

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constitute literary works, we modify our sense of world through imagination. In a fable, for example, we interpret expressions such as the lion replied by imagining a world in which this could be literally true, rather than juggling with the meaning of replied and our concept of lio~s to .creat~ some kind of paraphrase 'the lion roared'. Metaphorical expresSlOns III which we change the world to literalize the metaphor have been called phenomenalistic metaphors (Levin 1977).

6. FOREGROUNDING AND ENHANCING INFORMATIVE NESS A related effect of metaphor is that metaphorical expressions of the active kind tend to be fore grounded psychologically. We are forced to pay them special attention because, all other things being equal, their interpretation is likely to be less straightforward than the interpretation of the expressions in the surrounding text.

Hopefully we receive a reasonable pay-off for our efforts at interpretation. If we do we will have a sense that the metaphorical expression ends up as being highly informative, packing many ideas into a short space. The Shakespearean quotation above is a clear example of this.

But we should also consider the information content of active metaphors from the more technical perspective of information theory. In this technical sense information is inversely proportional to predictability. The more predictable an item the less information it conveys. So that in the. word queen the letter u carries no information, and nor does the word to III the sentence I want to go home. It is obvious that active metaphors are, almost by definition since they are unconventional, also highly unpredictable. No one could be expected to predict the words tractor and icicles in the lines from Charles Causley

His tractor oj blood stopped thumping He held jive icicles in each hand.

Therefore they are high in information content. The corollary of this is that they achieve their interpretation by exploiting the redundancy in their co-text.

A particularly powerful way of compressing information in a metaphor is by the use of allusion to another text through quotation or use of proper name. William Golding chooses the name Beatrice for Sammy's first girlfriend in the novel Free Fall, a name used by Dante for the heroine of La Vita Nuova. By doing so Golding invites the readers who are familiar with Dante's poem to exploit their knowledge of that text and explore the parallels, and ironic differences, between the two narratives.

7. EXPRESSING EMOTION Halliday (1985: 111) has suggested that mental processes can be categorized into three basic kinds: perceptual, cognitive and affective. It is probable that imagining should be located in the middle of the triangle formed by these three mental processes. Perception is of individual


experiences, cognition is to do with classes of experience, imagining lies somewhere in between. Concepts are abstractions more or less shared by members of a culture or language group, but images, based on vestiges of perception, can be far more idiosyncratic. Similarly, if images are based on specific experiences which were once actually perceived, they are likely to be associated with the emotions they produced at the time of perception.

Whatever the truth of these notions it can hardly be denied that one of the major functions of metaphor is to express emotion. One example should suffice: when Cleopatra says, referring to the snake she has applied to her breast in order to commit suicide,

75) Dost thou not see my baby at my breast that sucks the nurse asleep? (Antony and Cleopatra Act V Scene 2 308-9)

the peculiar character of the metaphor depends on the clashing emotional associations of the tenor and the vehicle, venomous snakes and babies feeding at the breast.

8. CULTIVATING INTIMACY

Because the understanding of metaphors depends on shared knowledge of grounds, then metaphor can become a means of activating the knowledge shared between only two people, or only a small group. It is as though, because the meaning of the metaphorical expression lies in the knowledge of the speaker rather than directly in the expression itself, the hearer has to penetrate into this knowledge, explore the mind of the speaker and activate in his own mind what he assumes to be in the speaker's (Cohen 1979). This creates a sense of community. It also excludes those who are unable to penetrate the speaker's mind and access relevant matching information in their own. For example if I were to say

76) Michael Heseltine was Wat Tyler and John Major was Bolingbroke to Maggie's Richard Il.

those who can interpret this metaphor because of their knowledge of the Peasant's Revolt against the poll tax, led by Wat Tyler, their knowledge of the way Richard II was deposed by Lord Bolingbroke, later Henry IV, and their knowledge of the political scene in the UK during November 1990, feel included in the community of comprehenders. Whereas those whose historical and political knowledge is insufficient to make sense of it, feel excluded by the metaphor. Incidentally one notices, in this example, how the allusive power of proper names is exploited to evoke a body of knowledge on which the grounds of the metaphorical interpretation depend.

It may be possible to relate these eight common metaphorical functions to the communicative functions of Jakobson. Lexical gap-filling and explanation might correspond to Jakobson's referential function, but reconceptualization tends to be metalingual as well. Decoration and

128 ANDREW GOATLY

disguise, imagery and memorability, foregrounding and informativeness, seem to be primarily functions which are textual, to do with the organization and presentation of the message, Jakobson's poetic function. In Jakobson's model the expression of emotion is emotive and the cultivation of intimacy is phatic. It is worth remarking on the fact that one of Jakobson's six functions is not represented here, i.e. the conative function. One could perhaps claim that all active metaphors have underlying them a conative function: they issue the challenge 'interpret this', acknowledging that the interpretation is likely to be more problematical than with literal uses of the language.

2. Metaphors in different varieties

Having sketched in the background of metaphorical theory we are in the position to see how different species of metaphors are used in different varieties of text. We will consider texts of Conversation, News Reporting, Popular Science, Advertising and Poetry.

2.1 Conversation

The metaphors occurring in conversation are predominantly of the inactive variety, interpretable by substitution rather than interaction. In the extracts from A Corpus of English Conversation which I have analysed we have examples such as spell out 'explain at length', field 'area of expertise' (CEC 519), load 'amount of work', catered for 'make provision for' (CEC 520) struck by 'impressed by' (itself a dead metaphor), withdraw 'drop out of the competition' (CEC 532) brilliant 'extremely clever' (CEC 534) sharply 'quickly' CEC 540) upset 'emotionally disturbed', (CEC 691) kicks 'excitement, stimulation' (CEC 698) sheltered 'cut off from experience', (CEC 703) etc. etc.

Despite their inactivity it can be seen that the majority of these examples create, or once created, some kind of image, by comparison with their paraphrase. Another example would be:

77) There are certain areas of the syllabus which the students queue up for. (CEC 520)

where one can still see students forming a queue rather than simply think of them expressing a preference. Such inactive metaphors still have some potential for concretizing what they refer to, and thereby evoking an image.

A further feature of some of these metaphors is the difficulty of nonmetaphorical paraphrase, which suggests that they belong to the class of catachretic metaphors e.g. sheltered, withdraw, load. Others are not solely catachretic but probably belong to the class of catachretic metaphors I


labelled root-analogies e.g. struck by, upset, field. Root analogies seem to manifest themselves particularly frequently in Con

versation. The extracts considered illustrate the 'time is a place' analogy:

78) Isn't he in his early thirties? (CEC 530)

79) particularly around Christmas ... (CEC 705)

80 between the time they said I could go and the time I actually went. (CEC 706)

In which movement III time becomes movement in space:

81) Modern drama won't come round this year but it'll come round the year after. (CEC 522)

And the past is behind:

82) impressions formed some years back . .. (CEC 530).

It also illustrates the 'consciousness is up' analogy:

83) Isn't it an objection that Bunyans might raise (CEC 518)

84) I don't want to bring this up. (CEC 524)

and the 'more is up' analogy:

85) She gets that much more holiday up to five weeks now. (CEC 706)

86) He's quite prepared to take a drop. (CEC 531)

and a number of others such as 'to think is to look':

87) What's the scene as regards drama? (CEC 521)

'too little is short':

88) ... but we're still short on modern drama. (CEC 521)

'a text is a journey':

89) . . . or put it another way ... (CEC 526)

Conversation has its fair share of inactive metaphors which are derived from n?uns, e.g. patchy (CEC 586), irifringe (CEC 696), dotted about (CEC 697), lzttered (CEC 697), capped (CEC 699), dicey (CEC 702).

130 ANDREW GOATLY

When more active metaphors are used in conversation, as they are occasionally, it is generally the case that they are easily detectable and easily interpretable. They are quite often signalled, usually by explicit markers, hedges (sort of, kind of) or intonation and pausing:

90) It's Tom Walker's own field as it were so to speak. (CEC 522)

91) I just looked at him waiting for the next sort of chapter. (CEC 698)

92) He sort of he didn't come near me he sort of dropped it at me. (CEC 699)

The tenor is often specified:

93) Very often they've done it in harness, Tom and Cedric have taken the class together. (CEC 524)

94) You might actually get three duds, I mean three people who you didn't want ... (CEC 528)

95) You know the safest oral contraceptive, do you? The two phonemic cluster 'No '. (CEC 43)

Aspects of the phatic function are clear in this last example. There is, of course, the kind of 'in' joke which makes the two phonemic cluster comprehensible only to those who are versed in linguistics. In addition there is the probability that this kind of joke would be told amongst those who disapprove of casual sex, and the joke cements a social group based on such a moral attitude.

2.2. News reporting

Inactive metaphors, catachretic metaphors and root analogies seem just as common in news reporting as in conversation. There are, however, three kinds of metaphor associated with news reporting that might be felt as distinctive of the register. We can call these hyperbolic metaphors, cliched inactive metaphors, and mixed metaphors.

Hyperbolic metaphors present vehicles which are larger scale or more violent in some way than the tenors to which they refer:

96) when they broke up protests . (DT 6)

97) the tug-of-war between the desire to be more open and ingrained bureaucratic reluctance to come clean . . . (DT 8)

98) . . . then he moved to a private bar upstairs and trouble erupted. (DM 3)


99) Britain's butter mountain (DM 11)

100) She shook out her mane of red hair . .. (DM 17)

101) The poll tax has turned out to be poison for the Tories. (DT 2)

Presumably the use of hyperbolic metaphors is in keeping with the sensational attention-attracting language, graphology, and layout of newspaper reports. The fact that the sense of exaggeration often centres on metaphors is doubtless because in literal matters newspapers tend to put a high value on exactitude and fact, hence the use of adverbials to pin down time and place of the events being reported, the almost automatic provision of the age of the participants and so on. Literal statements, figures, places, etc. being unavailable for hyperbole it has to find a niche within the figurative language of news reports.

Cliche metaphors are those which tend or occur with a limited range of collocates, as though they were half-way towards becoming idiomatic set phrases. Such cliched metaphorical phrases might include a key detail (DT 1), an umbrella group (DT1), reign of (football) violence (DM 5), advisory body (DT 1). The point to make is that other collocates can occur e.g. key decision, umbrella organization, reign of terror, government body, but that these collocates are highly predictable. In terms of what we said about the information content and predictability, we can regard these collocations as a means of increasing redundancy, or reducing information in the technical sense.

News reporting is justifiably famous for its mixed metaphors, and the long sentences of quality newspapers give plenty of scope for multiple mixing:

102) .. the firms are at the forifront of a growing movement breathing new life into the company suggestion scheme concept to tap shop-floor and office ingenuity and bring Britain into line with other industrialized countries.

Particularly rich are the following extracts from a paragraph of the Far Eastern Economic Review:

103) Sino-Indonesian thaw continues, though still at a snail's pace ... Indonesia was 'ideologically ready' to re-open economic ties with China . . . Suharto may have sqftened his stance, in order to appear more statesman like. One important obstacle to forging closer ties with China IS

Indonesia's relatively warm ties with Vietnam. (FER 19/5/88: 42)

In this example the use of the word tie as a synonym for relationship creates some ludicrous juxtapositions, if we reactivate the metaphor by invoking the image of a rope tying two objects together: reopen ties, then acquire a meaning opposite to that intended, warm ties seems nonsensical, and forging closer ties only makes sense if we can somehow conceive the rope as

132 ANDREW GOATL Y

a metal cable. Along with the incongruity of thaw and snail this makes the whole passage ridiculous.

Of course, it only appears quite as ridiculous as I have indicated if we indulge in a kind of deliberate misreading. Almost any lexical item if traced back far enough can be shown to have metaphorical origins and if we go hunting for dead and buried metaphors we will be bound to find them. Sometimes, in news reporting, however, we are asked to reduce our sensitivity to metaphorical expressions to an unacceptably low level, and if we are unable to do so, as in reading the above passage, traces of incongruity will be apparent.

Deliberately used active metaphors do appear occasionally in news reports, though they may have originated in the utterances being reported rather than being the reporter's own language. A totally new and unconventional metaphor is handled with some care. First of all its metaphorical status is signalled, the favourite device for this being the use of quotation marks. Then the tenor (grounds) are specified in order to provide an explanation, e.g.

101) He had been subjected to 'toothpaste tube' treatment. This involved a corporal taking a rod or bar to him as he lay in bed, slamming it on the bottom of the bed and then slamming progressively upwards until he had his knees beneath his chin. When the rod reached him it was brought down on his body. (DT 4)

2.3. Popular science

In the text of popular science which I have analysed, (,Gaia: the world as living organism' New Scientist 18 December 1986) explanatory similes and metaphors abound. Talking about the specialization of the Sciences in the 19th Century Lovelock says:

105) There was so much information to be gathered and sorted. To understand the world was a task as difficult as that of assembling a jigsaw puzzle the size of a planet. It was all too easy to lose sight of the picture in the searching and sorting of the pieces. G: 25)

Describing the way in which scientists put forward deliberately simplified models in order to test a theory:

106) We can make an abstract of the essence of it - rather like the way a portrait artist captures in a line drawing the likeness of a subject.

Explaining the objections of Ford Doolittle to the planetary self-regulation would have to be planned metaphors:

Gaia theory - that Lovelock uses two


107) Planetary control would require the existence of some kind of giant panglossian nanny who had looked after the earth since life began; or committees of organisms with foresight who could plan the future. (G 25)

Incidentally the first metaphorical expression depends partly on allusion to the character Pangloss in Voltaire's Candide who repeatedly claims that we live in the best of all possible worlds. Unlike a poet, perhaps, Lovelock does not allow the allusion free rein to generate whatever grounds it wishes, but in two other parts of the text actually quotes or paraphrases the words of Pangloss: 'This is the best of all worlds, but only for those who have adapted to it; we live on the best of all possible worlds'.

Of major interest to us in this article is the Gaia theory, the new theoryconstitutive metaphor and model of that metaphor that Lovelock puts forward to replace the conventional theory that living organisms only adapt to their environment rather than also regulating it. Before discussing this it is interesting to notice the alternative metaphors which Lovelock dismisses:

108) I see the world as a living organism of which we are a part; not the owner, nor the tenant, not even a passenger on that obsolete metaphor 'spaceship earth'.

(Incidentally we notice the double signalling of the last of these vehicles by the explicit marker, metaphor and the use of inverted commas, a use of the latter which we noted in news reporting, and which also occurs in advertising copy as we shall see.)

The basis of the Gaia theory is that the species living on the earth and their physical environment constitute one living superorganism; the planet earth, including the rocks which make up most of it, is alive. Lovelock uses comparisons, rather than metaphors, to introduce this theory. The text begins in the following way:

109) Could a planet, almost all of it rock and that mostly incandescent or molten, be alive? Bifore you dismiss this notion as absurd, think, as did the physicist Jerome Rothstein, about another large living object: a giant redwood tree. That is alive, yet 99 percent of it is dead wood, Like the earth it

~~: .. ~'!b: .. ~ . !~~~ .1. Ji.v.i:~i F~!·~.<. ~~~i~.~·. ·~~.i~.~.·. ~~ .. tk~ . ~~1.a.c.e: .......... .

And in the next paragraph it goes on to cite the analogy previously made by Hutton:

110) Hutton went on to make the analogy between the circulation of the blood, discovered by William Harvey, and the circulation of the nutrient elements qf the earth in which sunlight distills water from the oceans so that it may after fall as rain and rifresh the land. (G 25)

These comparisons are interesting. Firstly there seem to be problems in allocating the labels tenor-term and vehicle-term. After a little consideration

134 ANDREW GOATLY

we can, perhaps, decide that the giant redwood tree is more literally an example of a living object than the earth, and that the blood more obviously circulates round the body than the nutrient elements of the earth circulate around the earth; this would make redwood and blood the tenors. If we accept this labelling then we will notice that the normal patterning of metaphorical interpretation is reversed in that in these cases the grounds seem to be more centrally attached to the tenor rather than the vehicle. It seems we have now located a particular kind of analogic comparison of an explanatory kind. We sense that the use of these metaphorical expressions is not solely explanatory, however: that they are on the border-line of explanatory and theory-constitutive metaphors. It is almost as though the author is indulging in argument by analogy even though the arguments are negative: the fact that redwood trees are 99% dead and yet classified as living organism means that it is not necessary to conceive objects whose surface is living but whose core is dead as separate organisms.

When we turn to consider the central metaphor the world is a living organism we notice that much of the article is concerned with providing grounds:

111) It is this persistent instability that suggests that the planet is alive. At least to the extent that it shares with other living organisms that wonderful property, homeostasis - the capacity to control its chemical composition and keep cool when the environment outside is changing. (G 25)

Other authors may reject Lovelock's theory, his impositive metaphor:

112) He rt!jected Gaia on the grounds (sic!) that planetary self-regulation would need foresight and planning by living organisms. (G 25) (my parenthesis)

When we turn to the simplified (computer?) model that Lovelock sets up to demonstrate his theory constitutive metaphor it is interesting to notice the way in which it is introduced:

113) Imagine a planet like earth but with less ocean . ... Imagine that two species of daisies are present. (G 26)

The use of this introductory framework suggests that scientific hypothesizing and the hypothesizing of the novelist or literary artist of an imagined situation have a good deal in common. Both use the imagination to set up mimetic models of experience and, at least according to Aristotelian literary theory, make predictions which are a consequence of these models.

It is noticeable that scientific English makes a clear attempt to be in complete control of its metaphors, as a consequence often down-grading them into similes and comparisons where the grounds are spelt out at great length. The unconscious use of metaphors seems to be kept to the minimum. There was only one example of mixed metaphor which I detected in the text. Inactive metaphors do appear from time to time,


which is unavoidable in any variety, e.g.

114) The search for life on Mars led to another look at Hutton's superorganism (G25)

115) . . . the earth radiates a signal which carnes information. G25)

Some of our familiar root-analogies also surface, quite predictably:

116) Science . .. soon fragmented (knowledge is an object) (G25)

117) It became the province of the expert (knowledge is an area) (G 25)

118) Fourteen years have passed (time is space) (G 25)

119) In the long :run (time is space) (G 28)

But what seems remarkable about this style of Scientific English is the frequency of paragraphs which display minimal use of lexical metaphor. One example will have to do:

120) The mechanism for controlling carbon dioxide in the atmosphere was a variation in the rate at which rock comprising calcium silicate is worn down or weathered. Living organisms - ranging from soil bacteria, worms and burrowing animals to trees - are partly responsible for weathering. As evolution progressed, this biological weathering increased, releasing nutrient elements and forming particles of soil. This encourages the growth of organisms, which, in turn release carbon dioxide in the soil to increase acidity and so hasten the rate of weathering. The products of weathering are calcium bicarbonates and silicic acid, resulting from the carbon dioxide reacting, in the presence of water, with the calcium silicates in the rocks. Both these products are soluble and move through the ground waters to streams, rivers and eventually the sea. There, marine organisms take in the calcium carbonate and use it to make their shells of calcium carbonate. The carbon dioxide trapped in this compound is, ultimately, deposited as a sediment and forms limestone. (G 27)

In this paragraph one can, after long consideration, notice probably only a total of five lexical metaphors: the personifying encourages and responsible; and mechanism, release and trapped which all have thoroughly conventional secondary senses in chemistry texts. (Incidentally, notice how the last two are a kind of lexically extended metaphor.) It might also be noticed that there are a number of buried metaphors such as progress which can only be unearthed by those readers who have knowledge of the Latin language from which they were borrowed. Perhaps the burying of metaphors is one reason for the use of vocabulary of Greek/Latin derivation in scientific texts.

"

"

136 ANDREW GOATLY

This relatively successful attempt to purge philosophical and scientific discourse of figurative language might well reflect John Locke's objection to metaphor and other figures:

... if we would speak of things as they are we must allow that all the artificial and figurative application of words eloquence hath invented are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong ideas, move the passions, and thereby mislead the judgement, and so indeed are perfect cheat (Cited in De Man 1979: 13).

We can sum up our findings on the kinds of metaphor typical of the language of popular science by saying that metaphor seems to be so well controlled that it is: often signalled; presented as comparison or simile; and has its grounds spelt out as extensively as possible. And that, when it is used in its controlled and conscious way, theory-constitutive metaphors, arguments by analogy and explanatory metaphors are the major devices by which the theories are presented, explored and explained. A further aspect of the taming of lexical metaphor in scientific prose is the extent to which it is locked up and barred from large proportions of the text.

2.4. Advertising

One favourite strategy of the writers of advertising copy is to revitalize dead metaphors. This revitalization may be achieved in a number of interesting ways. Firstly, by the use of more noticeable metaphors from an identical lexical set near to the expression to be revitalized:

121) Master the four basic steps of this recipe and you'll be able to walk the more exotic stirjry dishes. (GH 123)

Secondly by the proximate use of a lexical item from an identical lexical set, this time used literally:

122) (An advert for mirrors) Our mirrored luxury IS not riflected In our prices. (GH 117)

Particularly frequent are the uses of these two devices to revitalize idioms:

123) ... throughout your stay we'll by on hand to make sure you have everything you want; whilst you don't have to lift a finger. (G H 120)

124) I don't give two pips what the rest do, we're using real apples. (G H 48)

The prevalence of imagery seems important in these revitalizations, a fact which can be discerned in the way in which the visual aspect of the advertisement interacts with the metaphorical expressions in the copy. So


If buying a house seelllS a vicious circle try Anglia. 'I'

confirms the amount you can borrow so you can go house- hunting with confldence.

And when you apply for a mortgage, you'll receive our Homemaker Organiser fIle - a comprehensive and clearly written guide that explains aK '.hp ins and outs of hl1vIn~ ano senulg a house.

,so If you want to avoid the l'l.cious cirde of house-buying, try Anglia. The building society that offers home buyers more thanjusta mortgage,

For more details, call in at your local Anglia branch.

Try Anglia. The building society that cares about what you want. Wrlttpn lTPdit (jptaib from: Anglia BuJldlnFlSo('jPt.\'. Mouilpn Park, Northampton NN31NL

Figure 6.1

138 ANDREW COATLY

an advertisement for bathrooms, featuring a picture of someone taking a shower, is accompanied by the text:

125) A beautiful new bathroom from Graham makes freshening up a positive pleasure. But with interest free credit as well it feels even better. Because that means you won't have to splash out too much. (CH 155)

The revitalization of previously unnoticed metaphors can produce puns, and clearly has a humorous function which is in a sense interpersonal and phatic: strengthening the emotional bond between customer and product by the association of pleasurable experiences with the latter. Punning would seem to be even more marked when a slight change in the form of one of the lexical items is necessary to effect the revitalization. A particularly interesting example is the following advertisement for Anglia Building Society. The logo for this company is a triangle (or pyramid), which appears prominently in the ad. (see Figure 6.1). The copy reads:

126) If buying a house seems a vicious circle, try Anglia.

A slight change of pronunciation gives us triangular! My congratulations go out to the ingenious copy writer who devised this pun.

We are probably correct in suggesting that these puns have both a decorative function and, more important, a phatic one. Decorative, in the sense that the understanding of the ambiguity which gives rise to the humour is not absolutely necessary to understand the main point of the copy. Phatic, in the sense that one of the main purposes of humour is to lower the psychological defences, to open the way for closer contact and intimacy.

Metaphors extended lexically, rather than syntactically, generally involving revitalization, are also frequent in advertising. The following advertisement for Volkswagen which features a picture of newly born twins tightly wrapped in blankets has the following copy:

127) You never know what's around the corner. If all of a sudden you're looking at family cars, congratulations . ... For 6,884 pounds you can be the proud owner of a Volkswagen Golf C. A.l.3 litre 55 bhp five door bundle cif joy. Delivered with a stereo radio cassette. . . . We then wrap your Volkswagen in at least seven pounds of paint. In a world where you never know what's coming next, isn't it comforting to drive something as predictable as a Volkswagen ... (CH 38-9)

Before the three central expressions which extend the metaphor we have been primed for it, not only by the visual image but also by the phrases the proud owner (cf. the proud father) and congratulations, whose use we associate with the context of childbirth. There is not the space here to analyse in detail the particularly rich interplay between revitalized root analogies (of time and space) and the denial rather than the provision of grounds: birth


of twins lunpredictable/; performance of a Volkswagen Ipredictable/. One notices here that the positive emotions associated with birth are

transferred to the product, as might be predictable in an industry whose modern development depended so heavily on theories of classical conditioning. Metaphors in advertisements do, from time to time, though less obviously that the visual images accompanying the text, create some positive affect, serving what we called earlier the emotive function.

Decorative metaphors, often involving animation and or personification, are particularly common in certain classes of advertisement. Animation is insisted upon in many adverts for gas appliances where we have a living flame, almost as part of the slogan. Personification is used for washing up liquids which are kind to hands, cold remedies that are gentle, shampoos which tackle dryness from two angles, ward off further drying out threats from hairdryers and help anyone get their hair out of trouble (CH 142-3). Cars frequently become, for example, animals - horses which gallop and amble - or humans which repose or are a family:

128) Our 2.5 family is eagerly waiting for yours (P 29)

Various devices are used to signal the use of metaphorical expressions in advertising copy. But the frequency with which punctuation is used as a signal is a distinctive feature of the style of written advertisements. We have inverted commas:

129) Solid wood doors, finished in grey paint and 'dragged' to reveal the wood's natural grain. (CH 12)

Exclamation marks:

130) Lose yourself - find yourself! (CHL 16)

Foregrounding through the use of minor sentences, as in this example of an ad for Stilton cheese, could be viewed as exploiting full-stops for marking purposes:

131) Enjoy it all the year. Round.(CH 214)

By way of conclusion on the metaphorical style of advertisements, we can say that revitalizing and punning are characteristic and are usually brought about by means of extension or by means of the interaction of visual images with metaphorical expressions. However, we should point out that the kind of revitalization brought about is generally of a rather limited kind: the vehicle of the original metaphor is brought to mind, but without any exploration of the grounds for that metaphor. This lack of full interactive revitalizing is a symptom of the fact that their function is mainly decorative and phatic; they amuse and humour us, and our smile or laughter accompanies a dismissal of the pun. We do not ponder such

140 ANDREW GOATL Y

metaphors for insight as we might a Shakespearean metaphor, smce a serious exploring of the grounds seems beside the point.

2.5. Poetry

It is somewhat presumptuous to attempt to deal with the variety of metaphorical expressions to be found in poetry and to make useful generalizations about them in the space of a few pages. However, since poetry seems from a metaphorical point of view to be a variety or genre which represents one extreme of the spectrum, it would seem equally perverse to leave it out. What I shall attempt to do is to concentrate on those features of metaphoric style which seem to occur frequently in poetry and little elsewhere. I shall limit myself to the discussion of one poem by Seamus Heaney, An Advancement oj Learning. The text of the poem is as follows:

I took the embankment path (As always deferring The bridge). The river nosed past, Pliable, oil-skinned, wearzng

A transfer oj gables and sky. 5 Hunched over the railing, Well away jrom the road now, I Considered the dirty-keeled swans.

Something slobbered curtly, close, Smudging the silence: a rat 10 Slimed out oj the water and My throat sickened so quickly that

I turned down the path in cold sweat But God, another was nimbling Up the jar bank, tracing its wet 15 Arcs on the stones. Incredibly then

I established a dreaded Bridgehead. I turned to stare With deliberate, thrilled care At my hitherto snubbed rodent. 20

He clockworked aimlessly a while, Stopped, back bunched and glistening, Ears plastered down on his knobbed skull, Insidiously listening.


The tapered tail that jollowed him, The raindrop eye, the old snout: One by one I took all in. He trained on me. I stared him out

Forgetting how I used to panic

25

When his grey brothers scraped and jed 30 Behind the hen-coop in our yard, On ceiling boards above my bed.

This terror, cold, wetJurred, small-clawed, Retreated up a pipe jor sewage. I stared a minute after him. 35 Then I walked on and crossed the bridge.

Th~ first. distinct~ve feature of this poem, in terms of metaphorical interpretatIOn., IS that, m the case of metaphors expressed by verbs, it can be worthwhIle to extend syntactically the scope of the vehicle term. Thus we can take dirty-keeled swans and fill as follows:

132) TENOR TERMS VEHICLE TERMS

dirty [bottomed] swans keeled [ship]

This makes it possible to consider grounds of comparison between swans and boats, perhaps the relatively smooth movement through the water of ~wans, as compa.red with ducks, etc. In other cases of supplying the missmg parts of vehIcles the collocate supplied is less specific.


My throat [retched?] [A person] sickened

The point ~f considering this personification of parts of the body is to ~uggest that hl~ throa~, beyond all conscious control, is taking on a life of ItS own when It physlCally reacts to the terrifying and revolting rat.


[putting off (the crossing of)] the bridge deferring [an action]

Here we can see that the bridge becomes for the persona an action rather than a place or object, though he attempts to skate over that fac~.

135) TENOR TERMS the river [flowed] past VEHICLE TERMS [the animal] nosed

This syntactic extension suggests that the morbid fear of rats has affected the persona's perception so that he is even inclined to regard the river as a rat.

!I'

142 ANDREW GOATL Y

The second distinctive feature is the way in which metaphors create fascinating and complex interrelationships with each other, far more so than even in advertising copy. Consider lines 3 to 4:

The river nosed past, / pliable, oil-skinned, wearing / A transfer of gables and sky.

Instead of regarding these metaphors as mixed we can see that the poet is making successful transitions between them, based on the sharing of grounds. Noses are pliable and are covered in skin. One reading of oilskinned 'covered with a skin of oil' disposes us to observe that oil is less viscous than water and that the word pliable therefore applies to it more literally. The alternative reading of oil-skinned 'covered with an oilskin' suggests the clothing used by fishermen and sailors which is literally pliable and suitable for wearing. The paint used for the transfers which children use to make pictures is also, presumably oil-based, making a further link.

We noted at the beginning of this chapter that the scope of metaphorical expressions is by no means limited to one word, and, in this poem we have evidence that the tenor-term can be extended as well as the vehicle term. Lines 16-18, Incredibly then I established a dreaded bridgehead, could arguably be considered as a long vehicle term, and the sentence following it as the tenor term of the same metaphor: I turned to stare with deliberate thrilled care at my hitherto snubbed rodent.

Metaphorical extension by lexical set occurs as frequently as in advertising, though often less blatantly. Here, for example, we have a succession of military metaphors: established a bridgehead, trained on me, retreated. It should be noted that the second of these metaphorical expressions, likening the rat's eyes to guns, is highly emotive in its grounds, though affective interpretations of metaphors seem uncharacteristically uncommon in this particular text.

A particularly common feature of this kind of short lyric poem, which purports to describe an experience of the poet or the persona in the first person, is that the narrative or description is not simply literal but takes on some symbolic meaning. The last sentence of the poem is a literal account of what happens in the world of the poem. But the action it describes is also clearly symbolic of something like the facing and overcoming of fear. The relationship between these two . meanings is a metaphorical one, involving a substitution interpretation: crossing the bridge where he is likely to encounter rats of which he is afraid is one example of having the courage to deliberately come to terms with a phobia. At one kind of symbolic level, then the metaphor works like metaphorical proverbs, e.g. 31 and 32.

An Advancement of Learning interacts with this last metaphorically symbolic sentence. To cross a bridge you need to advance in the literal sense, so that the last sentence revitalizes the root analogy in the title of the poem. But, reciprocally, the title also affects our symbolic reading of the last sentence, stressing not only the overcoming of fear but the acquiring of

METAPHORS IN WRITTEN AND

SPOKEN VARIETIES 143 new knowledge through the expe .

Th . 1 . 1 ,nence of d . e ut e IS a so an allUSIOn to th OlUg so. ment of Learning. Allusions also 0 e Work of Francis B 7''h Ad

' ccur q . acon L , e vance-example an advertisement for the C ,Ulte often in ad '. ~ of Cars to Come alluding to the title fO~dla Car had as . t vel rtlsem';''hntsS' 'h or

C Th d 'f"' " 0 rI.G W' IS S ogan L, e ape to ome. e I lerence m Interpr t' . ells tract Th Sh ,{ Th' that in advertising one is simply re at~on of these metaph e. lapelloJ. zn~s h r '1' . equlred onca a uSlOns IS

t e laml lanty of the phrase rath ' more often th . d . bl f . er than an not to register

enva e rom comparmg the two t to explore th ' said of the use of puns in adverts) esxts. (Compare this f"' e ext.ra

h grhounds

Id b .. . . 0, the . elect Wit w at we wou e qmte mappropnate to th peSSimistic to f W 11 ' k new car. Whereas the allusion in th.

e OPtimism of the ad ne o. e s ;ror

fi . f B IS poem h vertlsement lor a lrst sectIOn 0 acon' s work is de as some reI . h h . . Voted, evance m t at t e

to learnmg, Just as the persona di entirely to disp' 'f b' . sposes of h' , OSlUg 0 0 ~ectlOns

rats. IS ob'ect' ' • J Ions to encountenng

Fmally, we can observe that met h this kind of short poem, Metaph ap Ors are seldom si 11 d 1 . b ak· f 1 . 1 '. ors seem gna e , at east In

re mg 0 se ectlOna restnctlons' to be detect d b f h . . as In 132 1 e ecause 0 t e pretatlOn would be Irrelevant to th . - 35, or beca r l' be specified by genitive constructje tOPI~ of discourse T~se ~ Itera mter-premodifying vehicle term (line 26)ons h(hne 5) or by' th °hug d tenors mfay

h · 1 h " ot er m' . e ea noun 0 a ve IC e terms ave to be prOVIded b h ISSlUg parts f f h " Y t e r d 0 tenor terms and

o t e metaphors. It IS preCisely th' , ea er, as do m t f h d h . 1 . . IS Inex l' , os 0 t e groun s

metap onca mterpretatlOn which P ICItness and d d f k h d ' f h creates th openen e ne ss 0 ma es t e rerea mg 0 t e poem w h e density f .

. . r' ort whil I 0 meanmg and concentratmg mlormatlOn. This text e, t thus fulfil h f : f h d h ' , provid l' 1St e unctIOn 0

t e rea er on t e correct metaph' es Ittle imm d' 'd k 1 . h orlcal . e late gm ance to

mar ed y wit texts of popular SCI' . lUterpretation d

2,6, Summary

We can summarize registers as follows.

Conversation

ence hke G ' ,an so contrasts ala.

our sketch of metaphorical

varieties m different

Inactive metaphors are frequent ofit b' en eln

very common, as are derived den ' g catachretic RI' , omlUal . oot ana ogles are

when they occur, are Signalled by h d metaphors A t' h d r ' e ge ' c lve metap ors

ten to perlorm a phatIc function s or other ex I' . k ' , P lCit mar ers and

News reports Inactive, catachretic and root analo cliche and mixed metaphors are gy n:etaphors are freq 1:r b I'

I . partlcul l' uent. nyper OIC stye, Active metaphors are clearly' ar Y dlstinctiv r f h'

Signalled f e leatures 0 t e , 0 ten by quotation marks.

144 ANDREW GOATLY

Popular science Explanatory and theory-constitutive metaphors are distinctive in this variety and have an impositive tendency. Metaphors tend to be downgraded to comparisons or similes, and grounds are made as explicit as possible. Metaphor is tightly controlled. Occasionally arguments by analogy appear. Some sections of the text are remarkable for the absence of lexical metaphor.

Advertising Revitalized and punning metaphors are highly distinctive here. There is a tendency to extend metaphors lexically, and to rely on imagery reinforced by the visual element in the ad. Allusions are made, but often superficially. Punctuation is a major device in signalling metaphor.

Poetry The most interactive kinds of metaphor are found here, supply of the missing parts of the vehicle leading to extra grounds. Interrelations of metaphors are skilfully managed. Extension by lexical set is common. Symbolic substitution metaphors are normal in certain sub-genres (short modern first-person descriptive lyric) giving extra and wider meaning to the literal description. Allusions are deliberately made and their grounds explored. Metaphor is not explicitly signalled, but detected through selection restriction violation/ flouting of relevance.

The openendedness of the grounds, in discovering which the reader does much of the work of exploration, leads to high information content.

2.7. Postscript

The present article is a tentative beginning to the study of metaphoric purposes and how these purposes are realized in texts from different varieties. Further work on this important subject could usefully attempt to explain more fully the relationships between the contextual variables of field, tenor and mode and the kinds of purpose for which metaphors are used. In this postscript I hope to give an inkling of the kind of work that might be done to exploit register analysis in this way. I will demonstrate briefly how one aspect of the dimension of mode, namely the length of encoding and decoding time, determines the kinds of metaphoric effects which are possible, and thus affects the kinds of purpose to which metaphors are put in different registers.

Two aspects of coding time are relevant to the question of the relation between mode and metaphorical purpose. The first aspect is simply a measure of the time available for encoding and decoding. The second aspect is concerned with the symmetry or asymmetry between encoding and decoding time in any particular mode or register. I have attempted to diagram my intuitive sense of the relationships in Figure 6.2 where the relative length of encoding time is represented by the length of the vertical


CONVERSATION NEWS REPORTS POPULAR SCIENCE

ADVERTISING POETRY

Figure 6.2

lines on the left, and the length of decoding time by the lines on the right. In the case of metaphors in conversation, encoding and decoding time

are extremely short, since conversation can be presumed to be largely spontaneous; and the time available for encoding and decoding is more or less symmetrical. This presumably accounts for the following observations: inactive metaphors are common; because there is not the time for the decoder to ponder whether a certain language use is metaphorical or not, or what the exact grounds might be, more active metaphors are usually signalled and have their tenor/grounds specified; and that the jokeslriddles which incorporate active metaphors in their interpretation (see example 95) are, of course, not spontaneous at all, and probably allow the decoder a substantial pause to guess the answer.

In News Reports there is considerable time pressure on the encoder to meet edition deadlines, so that, of the written varieties we have considered in this chapter, news-reporting probably takes the least time to compose. Although the permanence of the medium makes it possible for the reader to spend a long time in decoding, in practice much of a newspaper is skimmed and scanned or read partially and quickly. The relative speed of both encoding and decoding time accounts for the fact that writers are careless enough to produce mixed metaphors and yet generally 'get away with it'. And the fact that the reader often has little time to devote to

146 ANDREW GOATL Y

reading probably explains the kinds of hyperbolic metaphor which are designed to attract attention. It would be interesting to find out whether these hyperbolic metaphors tend to be concentrated in the more prominent parts of the copy, e.g. in the headline and lead.

Popular science has more time at its disposal to control its metaphors since deadlines are less frequent. One could also entertain the notion that, in the case where such articles report research, the time spent on research can itself be counted as encoding time; we have already noticed how, in a sense, scientific research is often devoted to exploring what exactly are the metaphoric grounds on which a model or theory is based. Model metaphors or explanatory metaphors are very carefully selected, signalled and their grounds are elaborated at length, so that they become explicit comparisons. The reader has the time' to stop and think carefully, and backtrack if need be. However, because of their explicitness, the reading of these articles is rather more straightforward and less time-consuming than, for example poetry, where the reader is left to identify metaphors and explore grounds without much help from the text.

Advertising copy is composed with a good deal of time and labour, but rapidly read, if read at all, so that the relation is asymmetric. Metaphors will, therefore, be carefully selected and combined, but, acknowledging the speed of decoding, will be designed to attract attention and to produce the kind of quick-fire poetic effect associated with puns. We are seldom invited to explore grounds and, as we have already noted (in the case of the Cordia ad), allusions in ads are seldom 'milked' to the extent they are in poetry or literature.

Poetry is the most time consuming, both from the encoding and decoding standpoints. Much of the work of recognizing the metaphor and hypothesizing tenors and grounds will therefore be left to the decoder. The poet makes little allowance for a superficial reader and assumes the poem will be re-read and lived with over a period of years, in a time span perhaps even longer than that of its slow composition. One might, on one's death-bed, see a new meaning in the compound Shakespearean metaphor:

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed, where on it must expire, Consumed by that which it was nourished by.

References

Black, M. (1962), Models and Metaphors, Ithaca, Comel! University Press. Boyd, R. (1979), 'Metaphor and Theory Change', in Ortony 1979. Brooke-Rose, C. (1958), A Grammar of Metaphor, London, Seeker and Warburg. Cohen, J. (1979), 'Metaphor and the Cultivation of Intimacy', in Sacks 1979. Empson, W. (1953), Seven Types of Ambiguity, London, Chatto and Windus. Grice, P. (1975), 'Logic and Conversation', in Syntax and Semantics: Speech Acts,

Cole, P. and Morgan, J. (eds).


Honeck, R.P., Reichmann, P., Hoffman, R. (1975), 'Semantic Memory for Metaphor: the Conceptual Base Hypothesis', Memory and Cognition 3: 409-15.

Lakoff, G., Johnson, M. (1980), Metaphors We Live By, London, University of Chicago Press.

Leech, G. (1969), A Linl;uistic Guide to English Poetry, London, Longmans. Leech, G. (1974), Semantics, Harmondsworth, Penguin. Levin, S. (1977), The Semantics of Metaphor, Johns Hopkins. Lyons, J. (1977), Semantics, London, CUP. Man, Paul de (1979), 'The Epistemology of Metaphor', in (On Metaphor), Sacks,

S. (ed.). Ortony, A. (1979), Metaphor and Thought, London, Cambridge University Press. Richards, I.A. (1965), The Philosophy of Rhetoric, New York, Oxford University

Press. Sacks, S. (1979), On Metaphor, London, University of Chicago Press.

Texts used for examples (and abbreviations used in references)

CONVERSATION

A Corpus of English Conversation (CEC)

NEWS REPORTS

The Daily Mirror May 8th 1987 (DM) The Daily Telegraph May 5th 1987 (DT)

POPULAR SCIENCE

Lovelock, J. 'Gaia: the World as Living Organism', New Scientist, 18 December, 1986 (G)

ADVERTISEMENTS appearing in:

Good Housekeeping, May 1987 (GH) Punch, May 6th 1987 (P) Woman, May 9th 1987 (W)

POETRY

Heaney, S. (1966), 'An Advancement of Learning', in Death of a Naturalist, London Faber. (DN)

MISCELLANEOUS

Arnold, M. (1950), 'Dover Beach', in Arnold: Poetical Works, Oxford, OUP (DB) Auden, W.H. (1970), 'The Unknown Citizen', in Collected Shorter Poems of W.H. Auden,

London, Faber (UC) Byatt, A.S. (1978), The Virgin in the Garden, London, Chatto and Windus (VG) Cohen, J.M., Cohen, M.J. (1971), The Penguin Dictionary of Modern Quotations, London, Alien

Lane (PDMQ)

Eliot, G. (1960), Silas Marner, New York, New American Library (SM) Golding, W. (1954), Lord of the Flies, London, Faber (LF) -- (1956), Pincher Martin, London, Faber (PM) -- (1961), Free Fall, London, Faber (FF)

148 ANDREW GOATL Y

-- (1961), The Inheritors, London, Faber (TI) -- (1965), The Spire, London, Faber (TS) -- (1979), Darkness Visible, London, Faber (DV) Heaney, S. (1966). 'Death of a Naturalist', in Death oj a Naturalist, London, Faber

(DN) Hardey, L.P. (1973), The Go-Between, Harmondsworth, Penguin (GB) Hawthorne, N. (1972), The House oj the Seven Gables, New York: New American

Library (HSG) Hughes, T. (1972), 'Wind', in Selected Poems 1957-1967, London Faber (TH) Melville, H. (1983), Moby Dick, New York, Cambridge University Press (MB) Sutherland, J. (1948), A Priface to Eighteenth Century Poetry, London, aup. Includes

the extract from Lord Lytdeton, p. 72 (LL) Tennyson, A. (1969), The Poems oj Tennyson, London, Longman. Contains the text

of Morte d'Arthur (MA)

Part IV. Quantitative evidence for register analysis

7 On the nature of written business communication Mohsen Ghadessy

Abstract

Although a lot of attention has been given to the vocabulary and grammatical structures used in written business communication, the analysis of discourse patterns has lagged behind. This paper attempts to establish a discourse structure for sixty letters selected from a larger sample of 566 business communication events. It is suggested that each letter be considered as an 'extended turn' in the CHAIN of communication. Some obligatory elements and how they are realized in these turns are then exemplified and discussed. It is concluded that the chain-like quality of written business communication is a function of the two obligatory elements REFERENCE (R) and CLOSING (C) in this discourse genre.

Introduction

It is almost impossible to define what is meant by the expression BUSINESS

COMMUNICATION due to the many variables that are involved. However, it may be possible to delimit this kind of social activity by discussing some of the characteristics that can easily be identified. In order to do this, we will use the useful notions of FIELD, MODE and TENOR as defined by Halliday (1974).

The field of discourse

There is no denying the fact that we can easily recognize a business communication situation. We are subconsciously aware of the nature of the social activity and expect the participants to behave in a certain way. In face to face interaction, the simplest form of this activity is called buying and selling or buying or selling because each of these activities entails the

150 MOHSEN GHADESSY

other. However, due to the vast concerns of modern business, buying and/or selling are preceded by a whole host of other activities such as seeking and providing information, promoting goods, services, and goodwill in order, in many cases, not to sell a particular product but to create a favourable image of the company that produces the product.

In its spoken form, the language of buying and selling has received some attention by Mitchell (1957) and Halliday and Hasan (1985). In both studies it is made clear that a number of 'elements' are involved in such activity. These elements are either 'obligatory' or 'optional'. A 'genre' is then defined by the existence of a number of obligatory elements in all examples of buying and selling (Hasan, ibid., p. 104).

Another point related to the nature of the social activity is that we usually talk of such situations as 'acts', i.e. the act of buying and selling. This fact brings these activities into the domain of 'speech act' theory (Austin 1962; Searle 1972). The participants in these situations do something by saying something. However, one major difference in a buying and selling situation is that, due to the highly routinized nature of such acts, in some cases a transaction may be completed without uttering a word. Imagine a situation where one goes to a news-stand, picks up a newspaper, puts the right amount of money on the counter and walks away with the paper. It is interesting to note that in such cases language is used only if something goes wrong, e.g. if one does not pay the required amount of money or pays more than what is necessary. We could say that where language is not used, the participants are saying something by doing something.

Based on our experience, we can easily distinguish such situations and, when placed in them, produce the appropriate language. The nature of such activities requires that a customer, upon entering a shop and selecting a certain item, usually enquires about the price if it is not already marked. Thus he/she initiates the first 'move' in the transaction which mayor may not be completed. Of course there are many variations in the way the transaction is carried out. However, there should be a number of similar obligatory elements in all these cases. These establish the generic structure potential (GSP) which is a characteristic of the genre of buying and selling. One important point here is that one does not enter a shop without any definite purpose in mind. Even if one does not buy anything, as far as the seller is concerned, everyone who enters is a potential customer and should be approached in the proper manner.

Thus what people actually do in such situations determines the field of discourse, and based on the variety of purposes involved, i.e. providing goods and/or services, seeking and/or providing information, etc., we have different realizations of the GSP referred to above. The 'macro-function' of language is that of buying and selling; the 'micro-functions' depend on the peculiarities of each situation.

NATURE OF WRITTEN BUSINESS COMMUNICATION 151

The tenor of discourse

The tenor of discourse relates to the role relationship between the participants in such situations. We have already observed that the social roles are very well defined, i.e. customer/shopkeeper, consumer/producer, etc. Now considering the ultimate purpose of the shopkeeper or producer, there is a lot of persuasion, be it gentle or other, to effect a transaction. People are in business to make money and not to waste time. This paramount concern with effecting a business transaction and making money affects the 'interpersonal' function of language (Halliday 1973). However, this function is realized differently due to the status of the client in each case. One rule of thumb that affects the interpersonal function is that 'The customer is always right' which in turn determines the degree of politeness of the shopkeeper's language. This is closely related to the degree of formality/informality which is based on how well a customer is known to the shopkeeper.

Such considerations in the tenor of discourse are necessary as business communication may include other acts in addition to the acts of buying and selling. Promoting goodwill, complaining, apologizing, accepting, rejecting, claiming, demanding and many other acts are part and parcel of some business communication situations. Such acts assume special significance when we consider differences in the mode of discourse, i.e. in written business communication there are already well-established subvarieties such as letters of complaint, letters of application, letters of adjustments, etc.

The mode of discourse

The mode of discourse relates to the question: what is the role of language or what is the language achieving? Other questions that can be asked include: how is information presented? how much is assumed on the part of the customer or the shopkeeper? what is the point of departure 'theme' for each participant? what constraints are created if one is using a spoken or written mode? The last question is of special significance as most people interpret mode as the difference between spoken and written language. If we take the latter view, we still have to investigate variations in information and thematic structure as well as the cohesion and coherence of each mode to characterize the major differences between the two.

One major role in this language is that of persuasion, especially on the part of the shopkeeper. Elements of persuasion are also found in the language of the customer as when he/she starts to bargain, indicate a willingness to do more business at a later time or promise to send a friend to the same shop. In the written mode, the elements of persuasion are to be found mainly in the language of advertising which is a necessary part of every successful business. As Leech (1966) has shown, such elements are

152 MOHSEN GHADESSY

translated into a number of 'principles' which every copywriter of an advertisement should observe; they are 'attention value, readability, memorability'. Also all ads should have 'selling power'.

Establishing a jramework jor written business communication

After highlighting some of the characteristics of business communication in general, we will now attend to an analysis of written mode and in particular to one type of letter that is very frequent in such situations. The data for analysis comprise 566 examples of written business communication collected from a number of companies, banks, official government departments and institutes of higher education in Singapore in 1984. The examples range from a reply to a request containing twenty-two words (the text of the letter), to about 1,000 words dealing with terms and conditions sent to a prospective client. Here we will deal with one type of letter as an analysis of all the examples is beyond the scope of this paper. All the letters selected for close analysis (sixty in number) have one structural element in common, i.e. there is in the first part of the letter some reference to another communicative event that has already taken place. Tentatively we could classify these as replies to requests/enquiries/complaints, etc.

If we classify these letters as 'replies to . . .' we are of course assuming that there was another communicative event before each letter. There is in the introductory part of all these letters some kind of reference to this previous communication. Among the most frequent lexical items that are used for this purpose are letter 51 per cent, application 5 per cent, reminder 5 per cent, and enquiry 15 per cent. Other less frequent items - a total of 19 per cent - included interest, jorm, complaint, cable, receipt, record, account, statement and demand.

There are at present several theoretical frameworks that could be applied to the structure of spoken discourse. One such model originated out of the analysis of classroom interaction by Sinclair and Coulthard (1975). This model has now been applied with some modification to the structure of conversation, e.g. Burton (1981), Francis and Hunston (1987), and Stubbs (1981). We may ask if the same model can account for the structure of business communication.

Now, in a sense, most business communication can be compared to a simple sequence of 'initiation' and 'response' as in a question and answer situation in a classroom or a conversation. Imagine a situation in which a customer may telephone his bank for a new cheque book to be sent to his address. If this were done in writing, the customer would send a letter of request to which the bank would respond. Or it could be the other way round, i.e. the bank could phone or write and the customer could respond. Thus the possibilities are as shown in Figure 7.1. The model in Figure 7.1 can be applied to all types of business communication in which the initiator is satisfied with the response and


Client Bank

Initiation x x

Reeponee x

Figure 7.1

there is no further communication. However, the world of business is not as simple as this and in the majority of cases there are many more communicative events between the first initiation and the last response. Thus we may propose the following model for business communication in general, i.e.

I ' (R/I)n' R

in which C) means 'followed by', ( ) means 'optional', and (n) that there may be more than one R/I.

Each occurrence of I (initiation), R (response) or R/I can be considered as a 'turn' in the communicative event. This notionis appealing because of the chain-like quality of business communication and the fact that each letter (turn) is 'complete' and much more clearly delimited than in spoken language. We may say that each turn is 'extended' in the sense that it incorporates several 'moves'. Figure 7.1 can be considered as a macrostructure for business communication and the investigation of the 'internal' structure of each letter, i.e. 'turn' can be thought of as dealing with the micro-structures involved.

Another way to deal with the macro-structure of business letters is to consider Hasan's (1985) 'elements' used to refer to the language of buying and selling in the spoken mode. She uses SE (sale enquiry), SI (sale initiation), SR (sale request), SC (sale compliance), PC (purchase closure), and F (finis). One problem here is that the term business covers a lot more than the terms buying and selling and thus Hasan's 'obligatory elements' that create the 'generic structure potential' in the spoken mode cannot adequately account for the structure of written business communication.

Riference: the R element

In the following sections we deal with the discourse structure of letters that realize the macro-category of R/I in the communicate chain. It was pointed out above that all the letters analysed (sixty in number) have, in the first paragraph, referred to a previous communicative event. We can consider

154 MOHSEN GHADESSY

this as a micro-element in the structure of these letters. This element is realized in a number of ways. One is by a nominal group given in the 'reference line(s)' immediately before the greeting e.g. our reference: ... your reference: .... Also the 'subject line' can be used for this purpose, i.e. trade enquiry, overdue account, etc. Sometimes more than one line is used for the realization of this element as in the following example:

Acknowledgement oj order Your order No. Our order No.

However not all the letters have this kind of reference, i.e. the element R is realized in the first paragraph of the letter immediately after the greetings. Here expressions such as thank you jor ... , with reference to ... , jurther to your . .. , etc. are good examples. The element R may include the date, the subject matter or the addressee of the previous communication in addition to a reference to the previous letter itself. A very good example is the following:

I refer to your letter dated June 22, 1983 requesting some samples oj letters jrom

the * * * group.

(* * * are used where proper names or some dates are omitted)

Thus R has four semantic components in the above case, i.e. (1) your letter, (2) June 22, 1983, (3) requesting some samples oj letters, and (4) jrom the *** group. We may summarize this pattern by R (1 + 2 + 3 + 4). The above ingredients, however, are not all found in the R element. The variations are as follows. The pattern for each is given after the example.

Further to your letter to Mr * * * and ... Thank you jor your letter oj August 22, 1983. Thank you jor writing to * * * incorporation enquiring about our * * * products. We have received your application oj * * * jor a position

R (1 + 4) R (1 +2)

R(1+4+3) with us. R (1 +2 +3)

The subject matter may be mentioned before or after the greetings. If this happens, then we have a modified version of one of the above patterns, e.g.

Re: Carbitol Solvent Thank you very much jor your inquiry regarding Carbitol Solvent. R (3 + 1 + 3) R YC * * * on Lubricant Quotation. As your enquiry jor export to * * * . . . R (3 + 1 + 2)

Some constraints on sequencing of components are as follows:


Table 7.1 R element introduced with expression of gratitude

Expression No. %

Thank you jor . 19 66 Thank you very much jor . 5 17 We thank you jor . . . 3 10 We acknowledge with thanks . 2 7

Total 29 100

Table 7.2 R element introduced without expression of gratitude

Expression No. %

With riference to . 6 19 We rifer to your . . . 6 19 I rifer to your . . . 1 3 We regret to receive . . 1 3 We are pleased to receive . 1 3 We have received . . . 2 6 We are in receipt oj . 1 3 Upon receipt of. . . 1 3 Further to your . 3 10 Others 9 31

Total 31 100

1. All examples have R(l). 2. The most frequent pattern is R(l + 2). 3. Except for when (3) can precede (1), (1) is always initial. 4. (4) is rarely used. If used, it usually comes finally.

Tables 7.1 and 7.2 give the frequency of some expressions used to introduce the R element. This element may be introduced with or without an expression of gratitude, e.g. Thank you, thanks, etc. or with reference to, we have received, etc.

We can see from the examples in Tables 7.1 and 7.2 that there may/may not be a component in the R element with an interpersonal function. We should emphasize that the act of referring is 'ideational' in the sense that objects, people, institutions, dates, etc. are referred to. Anything else has an interpersonal function like thank you . . ., we regret to . . ., we are pleased to ... , etc. This function is not present in expressions such as with reference to ... , referring to ... , upon receipt oj. .. , etc. because of the role relations and the status of the participants. The question may be asked as to when we can expect the inclusion of the interpersonal function in such letters. To a certain extent this function is always there in the greeting, i.e. Dear

156 MOHSEN GHADESSY

Sir/Madam ... , and the complimentary close, i.e. yours sincerelylfaitlifully ... However, depending on the field of discourse, we can expect the letter to include more or less of this function in the other parts of the letter. Letters of rejection, apology, adjustments, congratulations and thanks will definitely have more language items that show the interpersonal function.

Addressing the issue: the AI element

Following the micro-element R, the letter must address the issue at hand. We may call this element the AI (addressing the issue). In most cases AI relates to the purpose of the letter 'functional tenor', and it is on this basis that we have different letter types, i.e. letters of complaint, application letters, letters of quotation, etc. Of course due to the 'brevity' of business letters, lengthy additional information is provided in the accompanying brochures, pamphlets, or other relevant publication.

Now a main problem is to establish the boundary between the Rand AI elements. In some letters this is clearly marked, i.e. sentence or paragraph boundaries are used, e.g.

Thank you jor your enquiries on * * * products. As requested, we are pleased to quote . . .

We acknowledge with thanks receipt oj your subject order dated 20th April 1983. We have the pleasure to injorm you that we have airmailed . . .

(R) (AI)

(R) (AI)

Sometimes R and AI are in the same sentence. A punctuation mark may/may not separate the two, e.g.

Further to your letter to Mr * * * enclosed are some . . .

and my telephone conversation with you, (R'AI)

With reference to your letter dated 22 June 1983 we are now pleased to enclose ... (R'AI)

In all the examples above the issue is addressed after the completion of the R element. Expressions such as pleased to and have the pleasure to are realizations of the interpersonal function in the AI element. We may distinguish those letters in which the AI is realized immediately after the R element and those in which AI is preceded by some items with an interpersonal function. The AI may be delayed for some other reasons. For example, in the following letter of rejection, first we have the reason for rejection and then the rejection proper (in bold).

Dear Sirs, Thanks jor your enquiry oj * * *. The short supply situation is so severe here that


we have to allocate supplies to our local customers. Such being the case, you can see that we have no material to offer for re-export . ...

The AI element may come almost at the end of the letter as in the following example. The extended introduction in this case has the function of self-promotion.

Dear ***, Thankyoujor your letter oj August 22,1983. *** Limited is a leading distributor

jor electronic equipment and medical and scientific instruments in Singapore, with a subsidiary company in Malaysia, dealing with the same range oj products. (A long section at this point deals with the range of products and other useful information) . . . . We are interested in all the products listed in your letter except perhaps item 2 which . . .

The act of delaying the realization of AI may be a characteristic of most rejection letters as indicated by almost all the examples in the sixty letters analysed, e. g.

The appropriate managers in our company have studied the resume oj your qualifications and experience, but are unable to take advantage l!f your services . . . .

Much as we would like to, we would like to advise that we are unable to donate

There was only one example of rejection where AI was realized immediately after R, i.e.

I am not proposing to recruit jurther

There does not seem to be a clear correlation between the type of letter and the delaying of AI in other cases. For example in letters of quotation both possibilities are found.

As requested, we are pleased to quote the following: Enclosed are our quotation and literature jor your

Enclosed are our quotation and literature jor your evaluation.

In answer to a letter of complaint, the initial paragraph includes both R and AI in an unusual sequence.

Dear ***, In the absence oj our general manager, Mr * * *, I have taken the liberty oj reviewing your letter. It is indeed disturbing to hear oj your unpleasant encounter in our coffee garden on Dec. 29, 1981. I apologize sincerely for . ..

Although the AI element, i.e. I apologize ... is introduced immediately

158 MOHSEN GHADESSY

Table 7.3 Relationship between letter type and the realisation of the AI element

Letter type No. AI-1 AI-2

Reply to: request, enquiry, complaint, application offer, demand, invitation, etc. 44 15 29 Acknowledgement: order, receipt, etc. 5 2 3 Reminder 5 1 4 Letter of thanks 4 2 2 Others 2 2

Total 60 20 (33.5%) 40(66.5%)

after R, R is preceded by some background information relevant to AI. The assumption here is that the original letter was addressed to the general manager who would be the person to answer back. The present writer thematizes this fact and presents it as the reason for writing the letter.

On the other hand; in answer to another letter of complaint, AI immediately follows R, i.e.

We found that the contamination was caused by . . .

Table 7.3 provides a summary of the introduction of the AI element in the sixty letters analysed. AI-l means that this element immediately follows R. AI-2 means that some items with an interpersonal function or background information intervene between the two. The interpersonal function may be realized by one word, e.g. unfortunately, or a clause, e.g. much as we would like to, ...

The element AI, like R, has a number of components. These depend on the subject matter of the previous communication and what the writer of the present letter wishes to include. In its simplest form, the components of AI have the function of providing information as in the case of a letter of quotation, l.e.

Dear Sir, Thank you for your enquiries on * * * products. As requested, we are pleased to quote the following: Validity: 30 days from date of quotation. Delivery: ex-stock, subject to prior sale. Payment: 30 days from date of invoice ..

However, in some cases the respondents use the opportunity to promote the image of their company/firm/corporation, etc. They may include information that was not originally asked for. This information can be included in the letter itself or given in separate enclosed brochures, pamphlets, etc. In the following letter the promotional information (in bold) is given after the AI element.


Dear ***, Thank you for your letter of May 5, . . . I suggest you contact our product distributor for Papua New Guinea, . . . I highly recommend our * * * insecticide as the ideal material for . . .

The promotional information (PI) is thus an optional element in replies to requests for information. Whether it is placed before or after AI cannot be decided on the basis of the few examples encountered. However, in three our of four letters, PI preceded AI.

In a few letters the AI is fore grounded in the sense that the purpose of the communication is made clear right at the beginning. Although there is reference in the initial paragraph to another source of information, e.g. records, these letters are not replies to requests or enquiries; they have in fact been classified as 'reminders' by the institutions that have sent them. One such example is the following introduction:

According to our records, the following bills are overdue for payment:

Here R is followed by AI. A feature of such letters is that some kind of elaboration is then provided. As far as the involved institutions are concerned, the non-payment of a bill on time is due to a number of circumstances that in most cases are unknown to them. Thus in the elaboration section of AI reference is made to hypothetical situations which may/may not be true as far as the customer is concerned. The above letter had four IF clauses, three in the elaboration section and one in the closing remarks to highlight this hypothetical situation, e.g.

If payments for the abovementioned bills have somehow been overlooked . . . If you would now forward your cheque . . . If you have any reason for non-payment ... If you have already mailed your cheque to us

One notable feature of such letters is the change in tone if more than one reminder is sent. We exemplify this point by discussing four letters that were sent as reminders to the same person. The interpersonal function assumes special significance in such letters, i.e. whereas the initial letter is a simple reminder, the last one can be considered as a threat to take legal action. The language that realizes this interpersonal function in each of the four letters is given below:

Letter One:

Letter Two:

Slightly past due. . ., We hope that you will consider this just a routine courtesy reminder . . ., If your cheque . . ., please zgnore . . ., Thanking you in advance . . .

You may have overlooked . . ., considerably past due . . ., please note . . ., May we hear from you . . ., within the next ten days . . ., Thank you in advance . . . .

160 MOHSEN GHADESSY

Letter Three: Our previous reminders . .. , outstanding account . .. , You still have not responded . . ., Please arrange to . . ., within seven days . . ., we will have no alternative but to cancel your credit privileges with . . . .

Letter Four: Our previous reminders . .. , longstanding account . .. , you still have not responded . .. , Unless your account is settled within seven days . . ., will have no alternative . . ., refer matter to lawyer . . ., legal action . . ., liable to pay for legal costs . . . .

All of the above letters have the R element and the AI is not delayed. A good deal of hypothetical language is found in the elaboration section of the AI. Obviously all these letters are 'requests' for payment. However, because of the change in tone, they may be sub-classified as 'demands' and 'threats' based on how strong the language is. It may be of interest to note that the institution involved in the above case - a bank - categorized them as 'reminder', 'second reminder', 'third reminder' and 'fourth reminder', respectively.

Closing: the C element

So far we have considered the two micro-elements R and AI. The third element that all letters share relates to how the letter is closed. There are two sub-elements here, i.e. the Closing (c) and the complimentary close (CC). The latter is a must for all letters and depending on how well one knows the recipient, the level of formality may change. For example for a formal letter the expression yours faithfully is used and if one is less formal then yours sincerely may be selected. The sentiments expressed by such CC's may be at variance with the content of the letter as when a threat to take legal action is still closed by yours sincerely.

The element C on the other hand fulfills a different function. It is a link between the discourse up to the present moment and what will or may happen afterwards, e.g.

. . . hope that our quotation is accepted and we look forward to . . .

The C element can be a request for a recommended course of action (CR) or a promise by the writer (CP). The CR can be an invitation for further communication (CRI) or a directive (CRD). It is clear from the above example that the interpersonal function is also prominent in this part of the letter. The C element may include an expression of hope, gratitude, concern, etc. and then a request or invitation for further communication. The following examples from the data clarify this point.

We would be grateful if you could send us Please feel free to contact me if . . .

(CRD) (CRI)


Kindly treat these papers as confidential. I will be delighted to personally handle your . . . And assure you that the information . . . will be treated . . . In

confidence.

(CRD) (CP)

(CP)

Occasionally the C element may include only an expression of gratitude as in the following case. We can label this type of closing as (CG), e.g.

We thank you for your interest in . . . (CC)

One statistic that is of interest relates to the words and expressions that realise the interpersonal function in both the Rand C elements. For example the expression thank you occurs in both elements of some letters, l.e.

Thank you very much . .. (R) ... Once again thank you . .. (C) Thank you for your enquiry of ... (R) ... We thank you for having contacted us ... (C) We acknowledge with thanks . . . (R) . . . Thank you (C)

The twelve letters (20 per cent) that had this feature in common are of the kind shown in Table 7.4: .

Table 7.4 Realization of the interpersonal function in both the Rand C elements

Letter type No. %

Reply to enquiry (one rejection) 4 34 Letter of acknowledgement 3 25 Letter of thanks 8 Reply to application (rejection) 1 8 Reply to invitation (rejection) 3 25

Total 12 100

We may note that five of the letters in Table 7.4 were rejections. Thus it is possible that in such letters both the Rand C elements include expressions of gratitude. More data are needed to substantiate this hypothesis.

Discussion

The above analysis of a number of written business communication events has confined itself to those letters in the first paragraph of which there is reference to another/other communicative event(s) that have recently occurred. It is this feature, realised as the R element, which binds the present event to the preceding context of situation. Although all the letters categorized as 'replies to ... ' or 'acknowledgements of .. .' or 'applications for ... ' have this element in them, the use of the above criterion has

162 MOHSEN GHADESSY

also resulted in including within this large group of letters what we have called 'reminders'. Thus the R element provides the 'given' information as a background against which the 'new' information is then presented by the AI and C elements. As such these elements fulfil the 'textual metafunction' (Halliday 1985).

In the discussion of the elements of structure, reference is also made to the 'interpersonal meta-function' (Halliday, ibid.) which deals with the expression of the writers' comments, attitudes and evaluations. This can be the basis for the classification of a whole host of business letters which, among others, will include letters of complaint, regret, apology, concern, thanks, and greetings. It would be interesting to compare the discourse structure of such letters with 'replies to ... ' which have been dealt with in the present analysis.

Finally, the present study has provided some examples of linguistic structures realising phenomena of the real world. However, the 'ideational meta-function' (Halliday, ibid.) has not been dealt with adequately due to time and space concerns. A study of 'transitivity' and the types of processes involved, i.e. 'mental', 'material' and 'relational' is therefore required to show how written business communication realises the vast and complex meaning potentials in this discourse genre.

Conclusion

Written business communication comprises a chain of communicative events each of which is realized in the form of a letter - an extended turn - with a certain discourse structure. Apart from the initial letter in each case, the subsequent letters have in common a number of obligatory elements which establish the generic structure potential (GSP) of this discourse genre. The elements include an initial Reference (R) category -mainly exophoric, followed by the category of Addressing the Issue (AI), and finally a Closing (C) category - partly endophoric and partly exophoric. The boundaries of this discourse structure are the Initial Greeting (IG) and the final Complimentary Close (CC). The initial letter in the chain does not have the R element. The chain-like quality of written business communication is a consequence of the functions of the Rand C elements in this discourse genre. This is shown in the following schema:

Discourse schema for a chain of written business letters

Letter 1 Letter 2 Letter 3 Letter Final Letter

Macro-structure of discourse: elements are connected horizontally

I· R/I· R/I· R/I • R


CC CC CC

CODE

AI ; Addressing the Issue C : Closing

CC : Complimentary Close IG : Initial Greeting

R : Reference

AI

~ CC CC

Figure 7.2 Micro-structure of each extended turn: elements are connected vertically

References

Austin, J.L. (1962), How To Do Things With Words, J.O. Urmson (ed.), London, Oxford University Press.

Burton, D. (1981), 'Analysing Spoken Discourse', in Studies In Discourse Analysis, M. Coulthard and M. Montgomery (eds), London, Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Francis, G. and S. Hunston (1987), 'Analysing Everyday Conversation', in Discussing Discourse: Studies Presented to David Brazil On His Retirement, Discourse Analysis Monograph 14, ELR, University of Birmingham.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1973), Explorations In The Functions Dj Language, London, Edward Arnold.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1974), Language And The Social Man, London, Longmans. Halliday, M.A.K. (1985), An Introduction To Functional Grammar, London, Edward

Arnold. Halliday, M.A.K. and R. Hasan (1985), Language, Context, And Text: Aspects Dj

Language In A Social Semiotic Perspective, Deakin University. Leech, G.N. (1966), English In Advertising, London, Longmans. Mitchell, T.F. (1957), 'The Language of Buying and Selling in Cyrenaica: A

Situational Statement', in Principles Dj Firthian Linguistics, London, Longmans. Searle, J.R. (1972), 'What is a Speech Act?', in Language And Social Context, P.P.

Giglioli (ed.), Harmondsworth, Penguin Books.

164 MOHSEN GHADESSY

Sinclair, J. McH. and R.M. Coulthard (1975), Towards An Analysis OJ Discourse, London, Oxford University Press.

Stubbs, M. (1981), 'Motivating Analyses of Exchange Structure', in Studies In Discourse Analysis, M. Coulthard and M. Montgomery (eds), London, Routledge and Kegan Paul.

8 Pragmatic and macro thematic patterns in science and popular science: a diachronic study of articles from three fields Britt-Louise Gunnarsson

1. Introduction

Genre patterns reflect norms and beliefs in the discourse community in which they are produced. When these norms and beliefs change, textual patterns are also liable to change. This sociolinguistic approach is fundamental for our work within the textlinguistic research project named 'LSP texts in the 20th century' which I am heading at the department of Scandinavian Languages at Uppsala University in Sweden. 1 Our aim is to study genre variation and change on textual levels.

The investigation covers articles from three fields - medicine, technology and economics - and three periods - 1895-1905, 1935-1945, and 1975-1985 (Table 8.1). Altogether ninety complete articles have been analysed; forty-five from scientific journals and forty-five from journals and periodicals within popular science (Gunnarsson, Melander and Naslund 1987).

Table 8.1 Articles analysed within the project 'LSP texts in the 20th century'

Economics Medicine Technology (Banking) (Lung) (Electricity)

1895-1905 Science 5 5 5 Popular Science 5 5 5 1935-1945 Science 5 5 5 Popular Science 5 5 5 1975-1985 Science 5 5 5 Popular Science 5 5 5

166 BRITT-LOUISE GUNNARSSON

The goal for our text analyses is to describe synchronic variation and diachronic change on textual levels related to the message structure of LSP articles. Message structure is, of course, a multifaceted concept, and in this study of LSP articles we focus on four dimensions of the message structure, the cognitive, the pragmatic, the macrothematic and the micro semantic levels.

Gunnarsson (1987, 1990a and 1992) describes the general model on which this research is based. In this model the correspondence between text and context is essential. Our method for cognitive analysis (based on an analysis of the text content in relation to five knowledge worlds) which has been developed for synchronic and diachronic analysis of LSP texts is also described. The microsemantic analysis, comprising an analysis of the referential patterns, is described in Gunnarsson (1989).2 This paper, however, will concentrate on our analyses of the macrothematic and pragmatic levels, describing our methods and presenting some of our results.

The results will be discussed in relation to changes in the contextual framework in which LSP texts function. From a sociolinguistic viewpoint, changes in textual patterns are reflections of changes in society. Looking at the academic community, the educational sector, professional life, the public sector and other sectors of importance for the LSP articles covered by our study at Uppsala, the following societal trends characterize changes of the Swedish society during this century: specialization, internationalization (Americanization), educational expansion, and information explosion.

Specialization is a term used quite frequently to describe developments during this century. It is obvious that the labour market has become more diversified. Today there are many more different occupations than at the beginning of this century. The same trend is obvious within the academic community. There are a lot more different disciplines for example, and far more different types of professors. There are many more different courses and many more universities and colleges, etc.

Internationalization is another term used to try to describe societal changes. More important here is the shift in international dominance which has taken place during the period 1895 to 1985. Till the middle of this century, Germany exerted the greatest influence on Swedish society. After the Second World War, however, it is the United States that has exerted the greatest influence. This Americanization affects society in general and the academic community in particular.

With regard to the educational sector there has been a considerable expansion. Compulsory education has been spread to all social classes, and has become much longer. A considerably higher percentage continue their studies up to college and university level, and specialist education is longer. We now have a larger group of people able to read complicated texts.

A general information explosion - the word is not too strong - has taken place during this century. We now produce books, journals, newspapers, brochures and pamphlets to far greater extent than a hundred years ago.

With regard to the genre patterns which form the issue here, four

PATTERNS IN SCIENCE AND POPULAR SCIENCE 167

Table 8.2 Societal trends and hypotheses related to pattern variation and change

Some societal trends

Specialization Internationalization: Americanization Educational expansion Information explosion

Notes

Hypotheses

1. Clearer genre boundaries 2. Pattern shift after 1945 3. Greater expert character 4. Firmer genre conventions

1. Clearer genre boundaries could, for example, mean a greater distance between scientific and popular articles: scientific articles have become more scientific, popular articles more popular. 2. Pattern shift means that text patterns in Swedish articles written at the beginning of this century can be assumed to resemble German text patterns, while those in articles written after the Second World War can be assumed to resemble English text patterns. 3. By greater expert character is meant, for example, that modern texts, in comparison to older ones, can be assumed to be less personal, less directed towards the reader and so on. 4. By firmer genre conventions, finally, is meant a greater homogeneity within genres, in this case within science and popular science.

hypotheses concerning pattern variation and change can be formulated. Table 8.2 shows these hypotheses and their assumed correspondence with the above described societal trends.

2. Macrothematic structure

2.1. Methods jor analysis

For the text analysis at the macrothematic level, we have used a modified version of methods elaborated by researchers in Birmingham. In his book On the Suiface oj Discourse Hoey (1983) distinguishes different text patterns: Problem Solution pattern, Matching pattern, and General-Particular pattern. Hoey's text patterns concern written texts in general. More directly related to scientific articles are, however, the categories which are suggested in Swales (1981) for a description of article introductions. Swales analysed the introductory parts in articles from different sciences and found that these seemed to have a similar rhetoric structure. This could be summarized as comprising four moves, which usually appeared in the following order: Move 1: 'Establishing the field'; Move 2: 'Summarizing previous research'; Move 3: 'Preparing for present research'; Move 4: 'Introducing present research'.

Other researchers have tried to describe the moves for other parts of text, for example for the discussion part. In Dudley-Evans (1989) the following categories are enumerated: background information, statement of result, (un)expected outcome, reference to previous research (comparison), explanation of a surprising or unsatisfactory result, deduction, hypothesis, reference to previous research (support), recommendation, justification.


Swales' moves and these categories have been the starting point for the method elaborated for our analysis of the macrothematic structure of the LSP texts in the Uppsala study. The Birmingham model has been modified and expanded to make it useful for our analysis of not only contemporary texts, but also older ones, and not only articles within science, but also within popular science. The most important differences are a distinction of a supertheme called conclusion, and different macrothemes related to consequences and measures directed towards society.

The analysis of the macrothematic structure of LSP texts within our project has been carried out in two steps. Each macrosyntagm (each main clause and its subordinate clauses) has been categorized first as to supertheme (see section 2.2) and secondly as to macrotheme. 3

2.2. Results

The following results are from our analysis of the superthematic structure of Swedish LSP articles which are of relevance for the two hypotheses mentioned above. 4

Each macrosyntagm has been categorized as to supertheme: introduction, theme-development, discussion or conclusion. We have further distinguished abstract as a separate category. Results have been calculated for each text separately, and based on these text individual data, means have been calculated for the different subgroups in our corpus.

Table 8.3 gives the mean percentages of the superthemes. Abstract and introduction are combined into one category, called introduction, and discussion and conclusion into one, called discussion. The table shows the mean proportion of the theme groups. Results are presented for scientific articles (S) and popular articles (P) from all three fields, from period 1, around 1900, period 2, around 1940, period 3, around 1980, and for all scientific articles (Sl-3) and all popular articles (Pl-3).

As Table 8.3 shows, around 56 per cent of the science articles (Sl-3) and 66 per cent of the popular science articles (Pl-3) have been classified as theme development. The introductory parts occupy, on average, 14 per cent, a similar proportion in science and popular science. The discussion parts play a greater role in science, where the average proportion is 28 per cent, which can be compared to 18 per cent in popular science.

A comparison of the proportions for texts from different periods shows, in science, an increase over time for the proportion of theme development, from 50 to 60 per cent, and a decrease for the proportion of discussion from 33 to 21 per cent. In popular science it is more difficult to point to any clear tendencies.

Also of relevance for our hypothesis is a comparison of the diachronic changes in the proportion of the three supertheme groups for articles from the three fields. Figures 8.1a-c illustrate the supertheme development in scientific articles within the three fields. Figure 8.la concerns the supertheme introduction, 8.1 b theme development, and 8.1c discussion. The solid lines show the developments within economy, the dotted line within


Table 8.3 Superthemes in LSP articles: science (S) and popular science (P) from three periods of the 20th century. Mean proportion of the articles.

Text grp Intr Theme Disc

% % %

Science Sl 16 50 33

S2 10 57 31

S3 17 60 21

Sl-3 14 56 28

Popular Science 22 Pl 11 65

P2 18 67 14

P3 13 66 19

Pl-3 14 66 18

medicine and the dashed/dotted within technology. As the figures show, the lines describing the diachronic development

within the three fields converge over time for theme development (8.1 b) and discussion (8.1c) and somewhat also for introduction (8.1a). Economic, medical and technical scientific articles written around 1900 were quite different as to their proportion of different superthemes. Modern scientific articles (period 3) are, however, quite similar in this respect.

For popular science, there is, however, no similar tendency towards more homogeneous texts. The lines for period 3 are just as separate as for period 1.

To get a picture of the overall thematic structure of the articles, the linear progression of the four superthemes: Introduction, Theme development (T), Discussion (D) and Conclusion (C) was described. These superthemes have been put together into three clusters or cycles: 1. introduction, 2. theme cycle, and 3. discussion cycle. Theme cycle refers to a linear sequence starting with theme development and optionally followed by a discussion part and/or a conclusion part; the combinations TDC, TD, TC, and T are each counted as one theme cycle. Discussion cycle refers to a linear sequence starting with the supertheme discussion and optionally followed by a conclusion part, the combinations DC and D are each counted as one discussion cycle.

Table 8.4 shows the linear superthematic structure for each of the ninety articles in our corpus. The table is organized so as to facilitate a comparison of texts of different genres, from different fields and periods. A comparison of the structures of the economic articles - E at the top of the table - with those of the medical - M in the middle - and the technical - T at the bottom, shows that the economic articles are of a more theme

170

80

70

80

60

40

80

20

10

Figure 8.la

BRITT-LOUISE GUNNARSSON

2

& ECONOMICS + MEDICINE $ TECHNOLOGY

3

+ & $

Introduction

80

70

60

60

40

ao

20

10

80

70

80

tlO

40

30

20

10

Figure 8.1b

2

Figure 8.lc Discussion

3

2 3

Theme-development

+ $ &

Figures 8.1a-c Superthemes in scientific articles. Diachronic developments within the three fields

& $ +

repetItIve kind, while the medical and technical articles have a more straightforward character, that is, first introduction and then one or two theme cycles. If we look at the medical and technical articles we will further find that this straight, simple structure is more characteristic of the modern articles than of the ones from periods 1 and 2. For medicine, we can also note that this straight structure more characterizes SClence left part of the table - than popular science - right part.


Table 8.4 Superthematic structure in the 90 LSP articles q. = introduction; III = theme cycle: TDC, TD, TC, T; • = discussion cycle: DC, D

Text Science ESl

ES2

ES3

MSl

MS2

MS3

TSl

TS2

TS3

Linear structure

4> III III III

W W • W •• ~ IIJ III •

W •• w • w •• w •• 4> • ~ a • III III III III • • •

w w • if? 11 11 11 11

if? • III 11

4> • III •

. . . •

w • • • • •

 • •

 •

 •

 •

 •

 •

 • •



 •

 • • 

if? • III 11 • 11

 •

 •

 •

if? •• III

 •

 •

 • •

 •

 • •

 •

 •

Text Linear structure Popular science EPl ••

~ 11 11 11 11

• W • if? • III III

EP2 W • • w • • w •• w+w •••••• w •

EP3 W • • • •

if? III • III

 • •

 • •

MPl cl> 11 11 III ell.

W • + • • ••• • • •

 •

 •

MP2 •

 • • • ••••

 • •

if? RI • •

if? 11 III III

MP3 •

if? IJ • 11 11 11

 • •



TPl •

 •

 • •

 •

cl> 11 11 • • III III •

TP2 •

 •

 •

 •

 •

TP3 •

 •

 •

 •

 •


Table 8.5 Average number of cycles (T- + D-cycles) in articles from different fields

Text grp Economics Medicine Technology

Science Sl 2.6 2.0 2.6 S2 3.6 1.8 2.0 S3 3.4 1.2 1.4

Sl-3 3.2 1.7 2.0

Popular Science Pl 2.8 4.0 2.4 P2 3.2 3.2 1.0 P3 2.6 2.2 1.0

Pl-3 2.9 3.1 1.5

Table 8.5 summarizes these findings in the form of averages for each text group. The table shows the average amount of cycles - theme and discussion cycles taken together - for the different text groups.

As Table 8.5 shows, the economic articles differ on average from the medical and technical ones; there is no tendency for the modern economic articles to be more straightforward than the older ones. For medical and technical science, there is, however, a clear tendency for the modern article to be thematically more straightforward over time. Worth noting is also a tendency for the greatest difference to be between texts from periods 2 and 3, especially among the medical articles. There is, further, a decrease in the average of theme cycles in medical popular science articles from period 3 as compared to articles from period 2. For technical popular science articles, however, the decrease takes place between period 1 and 2.

This diachronic change of the superthematic text pattern could be explained as a tendency towards a more homogeneous pattern. Another possible explanation is that it reflects a shift in foreign influence on Swedish article patterns, from German to American influence. Gunnarsson (1990b) discusses such a shift in relation to a study of the introductory parts in medical articles. The article introductions were, in this study, found to show greater resemblance to English patterns in modern scientific articles than in older articles. Our results were related to results presented in Clyne (1987), who compared discourse patterns in German and English articles. One of Clyne's findings was that the German article was more of a content digressive kind while the English article was of a straight, oneperspective kind.

A possible explanation of the shift found in the superthematic structure of Swedish articles is that it reflects a shift from German influence on our text patterns before the Second World War to American influence after


1945. A shift in influence on our belief system on a more general level has been discussed by many historians (Liedman 1977).

3. Pragmatic structure

The pragmatic analysis in the LSP project is directed towards both the micro and the macro levels and has been carried out in two steps. Our methods and a few results which have relevance to the hypotheses concerning pattern variation· and change are presented here.

3.1. Micro analysis: methods

The first step of the pragmatic analysis has as its aim a micro analysis of the texts, and the method used is based on 'speech act' theories (cf. Austin 1976 and Searle 1969).

Each macrosyntagm (see section 2.2) has been categorized as to main ILLOCUTION. Taking Searle's categories as our starting point, we ended up with the following five main speech act types: iriformative (Inj), explicative (Exp.), expressive (Ex pr.), argumentative (Arg.) and Directive (Dir.). We have further distinguished a sixth type, named metacommunicative (Met.). This type covers metacomments related to the text and comments on the disposition of the text. Under each of the other main types of illocutions we have also distinguished a set of subcategories. 5 For the purpose of this paper the presentation of results will be confined to the six main types.

3.2. Micro analysis: result

Table 8.6 shows the mean proportion of each illocution type in our ~aterial.

As Table 8.6 shows, the overall percentages are rather similar for science (S1-3) and popular science (P1-3). The diachronic developments within the two genres are, however, somewhat different.

In science, the informative illocution type increases from period 1 to period 3; a mean proportion of 51 per cent of the scientific articles have been classified as informative in periods 1 and 2. In period 3, however, we find that on average as much as 58 per cent of each text has been classified as informative. For the scientific articles, we can further note an increase in the metacommunicative type, from 5 per cent in period 1 to 10 per cent in period 3. For all other illocution types, we find a decrease, for the explicative type from 36 to 27 per cent, for the expressive from 5 per cent to 1 per cent.

For the popular articles the tendencies are not so clear. A comparison of periods 1 and 3 shows that the popular articles have become somewhat more informative (from 50 to 55 per cent), a little less explicative (from


Table 8.6 Illocutionary types in the LSP articles. Mean proportion of the articles

Text grp Illocu tion type

Inf Exp Expr Arg Dir Met

% % % % % %

Science S1 51 36 5 2 3 5 S2 51 34 2 3 2 8 S3 58 27 1 2 10

S1-3 58 32 3 2 2 8

Popular Science P1 50 31 3 2 6 7 P2 57 31 3 1 3 5 P3 55 28 3 2 2 9

P1-3 54 30 3 2 4 7

31 to 28 per cent), and a little more metacommunicative (from 7 to 9 per cent). They have clearly become less directive (from 6 to 2 per cent), which can mainly be attributed to a decrease in directiveness among the medical popular articles (from 15 per cent in period 1 to 5 per cent in period 3.) We find them, however, just as expressive and argumentative.

On the whole, the popular science text pattern is fairly similar with regard to its illocutionary character over our three periods. For the scientific articles we can, however, note a change between periods 2 and 3 towards texts of a more purely informative character. They could be said to have become pure scientific reports in the positivistic academic community.

Worth noting is also the increase in the proportion of metacomments, that is in comments on the disposition of the text and the like, an increase that could be indicating successively firmer genre conventions, and an awareness of these.

3.3. Macro analysis: method

The second step of the pragmatic analysis within the LSP project has been directed towards the macro level. Our method of grasping this structure builds on the branch of pragmatic theory which views both written and oral texts as speech acts. Written texts are thus acts between authors and readers. The author uses the text to get a message through to his or her readers, to make them act or think in a desired way. The author is


Table 8.7 Goal information and auxiliary information

Categories Sub categories

Goal information

Auxiliary information aiming to secure reader's:

cooperation

- comprehension

- conviction

- competence to act

Text goal Action goal

Marking of author's authority - Sender6

- Expert6

- Source6

Indication of addressee Indication of relevance of the message

Definition Categorization Summary Illustration

Example Proof

Description of action

considered to have a main purpose in sending the message, and this main purpose can be traced to one or more parts of the text. This part of the text can be described as its goal information. The purpose of the other parts of the text is to help make readers cooperate, understand, agree to, and know how to act in accordance with the author's goal. This later information is called auxiliary information (cf. Rossipal 1978).

In our analysis of pragmatic content we are thus categorizing the smaller parts of the text in terms of their relationship to the main purpose, in terms of their role within the purpose structure of the text. We distinguish between goal information and auxiliary information as in Table 8.7.

The analysis of the purpose structure has also been made on a macrosyntagmatic level. 7 All macrosyntagms have, however, not been marked for this form of analysis. The categorization has only been made where it was appropriate, which explains why the sum of the figures in the following tables are less than 100 per cent.

3.4. Macro analysis: result

Table 8.8 shows the proportion of the different main categories in our LSP material.

As Table 8.8 shows the percentages of explicit goal information are very low, lower in popular science than in science, 0.4 per cent for Pl-3 as


Table 8.8 Purpose structure in LSP articles. Mean proportion of the articles

Text grp Purpose structure

Goal information Auxiliary information

Coop Cmpr Conv Action % % % % %

Science Sl 16 10 10 5 S2 13 17 7 3 S3 12 19 6 3

Sl-3 14 15 7 3

Popular Science Pl 0.2 13 10 9 8 P2 0.4 12 10 9 4 P3 12 6 8 4

Pl-3 0.4 12 9 9 5

compared to 1 per cent for Sl-3. A comparison between the figures for the scientific texts and those for the popular texts shows that the comprehension categories - definition, categorization, etc. were more often found in the scientific articles than in popular articles, 15 per cent for S 1-3 as compared to 9 per cent for Pl-3. The conviction categories - examples and proofs - and the action description category were, on the other hand, found more often in popular science than in science; 14 per cent (9 + 5) for Pl-3 as compared to 10 per cent (7 + 3) for Sl-3.

Diachronically we find an increase for the comprehension categories in science - from 10 to 19 per cent - and a decrease for the conviction and action descriptive categories. This is in line with the general tendency earlier discussed towards texts of a more purely informative character. As was pointed out earlier, the proportion of argumentative and directive illocutions decreased in science from 1900 to 1980.

In popular science, however, we find a decrease in the comprehension categories, from 10 per cent in period 2 to 6 per cent in period 3. Popular science follows, as mentioned above, a somewhat different pattern than the science articles. We can also note the decrease in the proportion of action descriptions in these texts, from 8 to 4 per cent.

With regard to the merged cooperation category presented in Table 8.8, science and popular science show rather similar tendencies. A more diversified picture is given, however, in Table 8.9, which shows the proportion of the different cooperative subcategories: sender (Se), expert (Ex), source (Sc), total markings of authority (Auth), that is Se + Ex + Sc, addressee (Add), and relevance (ReI) (cf. Table 8.7).


Table 8.9 Cooperative information in LSP articles. Mean proportion of the articles

Text grp Cooperation category

Se Ex Sc Auth Add Rei

% % % % % %

Science Sl 6 5 2 13 2 2 S2 4 3 3 10 2 2 S3 3 6 9 1 1

Sl-3 4 5 2 11 2 2

Popular Science Pl 2 5 1 8 4 2 P2 2 2 1 5 5 2 P3 2 3 2 7 4 1

Pl-3 2 3 7 4 2

As the figures in Table 8.9 show, we find more markings of authority in science than in popular science; 11 per cent for Sl-3 as compared to 7 per cent for Pl-3. Senders and other experts are referred to by name, pronoun or literature to a larger extent in the scientific articles than in the popular ones. On the other hand, the reader is addressed to a greater extent in popular science than in science, 4 per cent for Pl-3 and 2 per cent for Sl-3.

Diachronically, the figures point to a tendency for the scientific articles from the last period, that is around 1980, to refer less to both the sender and the reader (Se + Add = 4 per cent) compared to articles from earlier periods (Se + Add = 8 per cent in period 1). The scientific article could, thus, in this respect be said to have become more impersonal. The writer shows himself less in the text and he does not refer to the reader. Such a change has, however, not taken place in the popular articles.

4. Discussion

This paper has described some changes over time in textual patterns as well as differences between texts of different genres. From a sociolinguistic viewpoint, changes in text patterns are reflections of changes in the contextual frames within which the texts function, and the results can be summed up by relating them to the four hypotheses earlier posed concerning the correspondence between text and context.

The first hypothesis was 'Clearer genre boundaries', and the results


presented here point to clearer genre boundaries for the scientific text genre. This genre has followed its own course of development. Scientific articles have become more purely scientific (in the positivistic science tradition). As we have found, theme development plays a larger role in scientific texts. They have become more purely informative, and more directed towards comprehension. Other types of thematic and pragmatic content have gradually decreased. The popular science texts have, however, changed less in these respects.

The second hypothesis was 'Pattern shift after 1945', that is, shift from a German type of pattern to an English type. For the linear thematic structure, the Swedish scientific article seems to have changed pattern in a direction that could be related to a shift from a German content digressive type to an English straight, one-perspective type. The main shift seems to have taken place between periods 2 and 3, that is after 1945. An earlier study of introductory parts has shown the same tendency towards greater resemblance to the English pattern for the modern scientific article than for older articles (Gunnarsson 1990b).

The third hypothesis was 'More expert character', and I would here like to recall the more impersonal character of the scientific texts. We have found that the explicit reference to sender and to reader has decreased. We have also found a decrease in communicative illocutions, such as expressive, argumentative and directive ones, and in auxiliary information aiming at convincing the reader in a particular way. Even in this respect the tendency is less clear for popular science.

The fourth hypothesis was 'Firmer conventions', and results indicate a tendency towards a more homogeneous structuring of the scientific articles. Articles from the three fields, economics, medicine and technology, were, for example, found to converge with respect to their superthematic structures. The greater proportion of metacomments and comments on text disposition in articles over our three periods is relevant for this hypothesis. These results could be seen as reflections of a stronger awareness of genre conventions among the writers.

This part of our investigation into textual patterns of LSP texts has made it possible to describe and, to a certain extent, explain tendencies in the development of the Swedish scientific article genre during this century. For the popular science article genre, however, we have found less clear tendencies, probably reflecting the fact that this genre is more heterogeneous. There is no schooling - at least not in Sweden - to become a writer of popular science articles as there is to become an accepted writer of science articles.

Notes

1. The project team consists of myself as project director, Bjorn Melander, Harry Naslund, and Bjorn Skolander.

2. Results of the cognitive analysis are for example presented in Melander (1989),


and results from the microsemantic analysis in Naslund (1989). 3. For a description of our macrothemes, see Gunnarsson (1989: 26-27). 4. The macrothematic and the pragmatic analyses have been carried out by Bjorn

Skolander. 5. For a description of our illocutions, see Gunnarsson (1989: 31-32). 6. The analysis of the marking of authority is rather detailed, with different categories

for senders referring to themselves, by pronoun, name, literature, for senders referring to other experts or to other authoritative sources.

7. For a description of our pragmatic categories, see Gunnarsson (1989: 27-30 and 44-45).

References

Austin, J.L. (1976), How to do things with words, London, Oxford, New York, Oxford University Press. 2nd edition.

Clyne, M. (1987), Cultural differences in the organization of academic texts. English and German. Journal oj Pragmatics 11, 211-247.

Dudley-Evans, T. (1989), 'An Outline of the Value of Genre Analysis in LSP Work', in Special Language: From Humans Thinking to Thinking Machines, Lauren, C. and M. Nordman (eds), 72-79. Clevedon, Philadelphia, Multilingual Matters Ltd.

Gunnarsson, B.-L. (1987), 'Facktexten och den sociala kontexten. En Analysmodell', in Facktext, B.-L. Gunnarsson (ed.), 72-103. Malmo, Liber.

-- (1989), Facktexter under 1900-talet 2. Metoder jor textanalys pa makro- och mikroniva, FUMS Report nr 145, Uppsala University.

-- (1990a), 'The LSP text and its social context. A model for text analysis', in Learning, Keeping and Using Language: Selected Papers jrom the Eighth World Congress oj Applied Linguistics, vol. 2, M.A.K. Halliday, J. Gibbons, and H. Nicholas (eds), Amsterdam Benjamins Pub!.

-- (1990b), 'Makrotematiska och pragmatiska monster i medicinska artiklar', in Svenskans Beskrivning 17. Abo.

-- (1992), 'Linguistic change within cognitive worlds', in Diachrony within Synchrony: Language History and Cognition, G. Kellerman and M.D. Morrisey (eds), 205-228, Frankfurt am Main, Peter Lang Verlag.

Gunnarsson, B.-L. Melander, B., and Naslund, H. (1987), Facktexter under 1900-talet 1. Projektpresentation och materialbeskrivning, FUMS Report No. 135, Uppsaia University.

Hoey, Michae!. (1983), On the surface oj discourse, London, George Allen and Unwin. Liedman, S.E. (1977), Den vetenskapliga specialiseringen. Begrepp, aktuella problem

och tillampningar, Report No. 95, Institutionen for Vetenskapsteori, Gothenburgh University.

Melander, B. (1989) Facktexter under 1900-talet 3. Resultatjran kognitiv textanalys, FUMS Report No. 148, Uppsala University.

Naslund, H. (1989), Facktexter under 1900-talet 4. Resultatjran kognitivt inriktad referentanalys, FUMS Report No. 149, Uppsala University.

Rossipal, H. (1978), Funktionale Textanalyse. Denotation und Konnotation als Textwirkungsmittel, Tyska institutionen. Stockholms universitet.

Searle, J. (1969), Speech Acts. An Essay in the Philosophy oj Language, London, New York, Cambridge University Press.

Swaies, John (1981), Aspects oj article introductions, Birmingham, England, University of Aston.

Part V. Computer applications

9 Text processing using the Functional Grammar Processor (FG P) * Jonathan j. Webster

Introduction

Various programs have been designed to assist in the analysis of texts. One example is the Oxford Concordance Program, a general-purpose computer program capable of making frequency counts, constructing concordances, and testing for the collocational range of targeted lexical items. Here I will be describing quite a different approach to text analysis by computer.

The Functional Grammar Processor (FG P) is a tool to assist in the analysis of texts following M.A.K. Halliday's approach outlined in his Introduction to Functional Grammar in terms of theme-rheme structure, moodresidue and transitivity. This text differs from Halliday's previous work in that the emphasis is on the structural rather than the systemic portion of a description of English. The program interfaces between user and text, taking one through the process of clause analysis leading to the construction of a prolog-based database containing information about the functional analysis of a particular text. From this database of clause analyses, one can access information about consistent patterns of use within a given text, or compare usage patterns across texts belonging to a particular genre.

Clause as basic lexicogrammatical unit

The clause as meaningful unit is the most basic lexicogrammatical unit in Halliday's functional grammar. The text is also a semantic unit but at a higher level in the hierarchy. Both clause and text belong to that large collection of vertical or semiotic units described by Sydney Lamb as 'links between communicative functions or meanings and the means of expressing them' (1985: 16). 'In order to provide insights into the meaning and

• Adapted from the paper 'Linguistic Information Processing and the Functional Grammar Processor' which I presented as the Featured Lecture at the 17th Annual LACUS Forum held at the State University of California at Fullerton, August 7-11, 1990.

182 JONATHAN J. WEBSTER

effectiveness of a text,' states Halliday, 'a discourse grammar needs to be functional and semantic in its orientation, with the grammatical categories explained as the realization of semantic patterns' (1985: xvii). Functional grammar provides just the orientation.

The starting point for analyzing the text is the clause. Clauses make it possible to create text, explains Halliday, because a clause 'has itself evolved by analogy with the text as model and can thus represent the meanings of a text in a rich variety of different ways' (1981: 44). A clause is related to text along two axes (1981: 39), one being composition - clause as constituent of the text, the other being realization - clause as instantiation of the text. Halliday describes a clause as 'a text in microcosm, a "universe of discourse" of its own in which the semiotic properties of a text reappear on a miniature scale'. The three functional-semantic components - ideational, interpersonal, and textual - each contribute in their own way to the form of the clause.

IMAGINE THAT YOU HAVE LOST YOUR CAR KEYS.

Structural topical

theme theme rheme clause as message

theme rheme

mental process phenomenon representallo n

Actor Mat Proc Goal

Pred Coni Sub) Mln Pred Complement

mood residue clause as exchange

residue residue

Figure 9.1

Figure 9.1 illustrates the structure of the following clause complex in terms of theme, mood and transitivity. The clause is meaningful in three senses: as message, as a means of representing patterns of experience, and as a form of exchange (1985: 38, 68, 101). The clause as message is describable in terms of its thematic structure. Given a text, 'the thematic organization of the clauses (and clause complexes where relevant) expresses, and so reveals, the method of development of the text ... by analyzing the thematic structure of a text clause by clause, we can gain insight into its texture and understand how the writer made clear to us the nature of his underlying concerns' (Halliday 1985: 67).

The clause as representation of the processes of doing, happening, feeling, being is organized into three components or elements each of which

TEXT PROCESSING USING FGP 183

is typically realized by members of a particular word class: 'a pattern', Halliday suggests, 'that in some form or other is probably universal among human languages' (1985: 102; Table 5(1) from the same page follows):

type of elements:

(i) process (ii) participant (iii) circumstance

typically realized by:

verbal group nominal group adverbial group or prepositional phrase

Mood and residue are two constituents of the clause as exchange. The Mood element consists of Subject plus Finite, the Residue consists of Predicator, Complement and Adjunct. While Halliday recognizes that the Mood element has little significance beyond the immediate sequence of clauses in which it occurs, he nevertheless points out that 'the ongoing selection of Subjects by a speaker or writer does give a characteristic flavour to a piece of discourse' (1985: 98).

The Functional Grammar Processor

The Functional Grammar Processor runs on any IBM PC AT compatible in either monochrome or color. The Functional Grammar (FG) Processor is fully integrated with Borland's Sprint, a popular word processing package. The text to be analyzed is called up first in Sprint. The user then highlights the clause to be analyzed and selects from the FGP pop-up menu to do either Theme-Rheme, Mood-Residue or Transitivity analysis. (See Displays 9.1 and 9.2; see p. 189).

The FG Processor, written in Turbo Prolog, next appears on the screen. The user enters his/her analysis into the appropriate fields guided by an on-line help system. Displays 9.3 and 9.4 (see p. 190) show the moodresidue analysis for the first clause from the TEXT 1 document: Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business can often be a difficult operation. Displays 9.5, 9.6 and 9.7 (see pp. 191 and 192) illustrate transitivity analysis on the same clause. In Display 9.6, the on-line help is demonstrated. The user is aware that 'can often be' is a relational process, but (s)he is evidently not sure what type - whether intensive, circumstantial, or possessive - so while still in the 'Type' menu, (s)he presses the HELP key (which is F1 as indicated in the status line at the bottom of the screen) and up pops the HELP information about the six types of relational process in English. Displays 9.8 and 9.9 (see pp. 192 and 193) exhibit theme-rheme analysis.

184 ]ONATHAN ]. WEBSTER

Text views

Once completed, the analysis is saved in two forms: one return in a more user-friendly form to a Sprint document; the second stored as prolog terms in a Turbo Prolog external database. The original text file remains unchanged.

At the outset, one text file - the original text - exists; we'll call it 'TEXT.SPR'. When I highlight the clause to be analyzed and select Theme-Rheme analysis from the FGP pop-up menu, a new file 'TEXT1. THM' is immediately created to receive back the analyzed clause. TEXTl.THM looks exactly like TEXTl.SPR except for that previously highlighted clause which is now in analyzed form. Once TEXTl.THM has been created, theme-rheme analysis must be continued with it and not the original document. In fact, if TEXTl. THM does already exist and the user attempts to do theme-rheme analysis on a highlighted clause in the original document, the program will automatically replace the original document, TEXT1.SPR, on the screen with the existing'. THM file. Similarly, new text files are created to give a textview of clause analyses for mood-residue and transitivity (processparticipant-circumstance ).

TEXT1.SPR (original document)

Display 9.10

.- -, .------...-- ---.. ~ ----------,., ..... -------,.

-...--~'- .------~ TEXT1.THM TEXT1.MDR TEXT1.PPC

(theme-rheme) (mood-residue) (Transitivity) Display 9.11 Display 9.12 Display 9.13

Figure 9.2

These text-views become the focus of interaction between user and text. From them the user can highlight another clause for analysis, or even highlight a previously analyzed clause and modify the previous analysis or delete it. The text-views also facilitate embedded analyses. For example, in the second sentence of TEXT1 - But when you have the right connections, everything can be tailor made to suit your needs. - at the level of clause complex, we might analyze the sentence as follows:

[ref(2), theme (Istruct(But), clause-as-theme (when you have the right connections)]) , rheme (everything can be tailor-made to suit your needs.)]


the modifier clause, when you have the right connections, is in thematic position before the head clause. The analysis does not stop there, however, as we still need to analyze both the modifier and head clauses for theme-rheme structure. In TEXTl. THM, I then highlight just the modifer clause for analysis,

[ref(2), theme ([struct(But) , clause-as-theme (when you have the right connections)]) , rheme (everything can be tailor-made to suit your needs.)]

with the result given below:

[ref(2), theme ([struct(But) , clause-as-theme ( [ref(3), theme ([struct(when) , topical(you)]), rheme (have the right connections,)])]), rheme (everything can be tailor-made to suit your needs.)]

Likewise, the head clause,

[ref(2), theme (Istruct(But), clause-as-theme ( [ref(3), theme ([struct(when), topical (you)]), rheme (have the right connections, )l)]), rheme (everything can be tailor-made to suit your needs.)]

requires analysis as shown below:

[ref(2), theme ([struct(But) , clause-as-theme ( [ref(3), theme ([struct(when) , topical (you)]), rheme (have the right connections,)])]), rheme ( [ref(4), theme ([topical (everything)]), rheme (can be tailor-made to suit your needs. )] )]

Where two interpretations of the same clause are possible, one the literal or congruent, the other metaphorical, both analyses can be included. Halliday gives as an example of a grammatical metaphor in the interpersonal component the sentence I don't believe that pudding ever will be cooked.' Here, the opening phrase I don't believe functions as an interpersonal (modal) theme:

[ref(3), alternative-to ([ 1 ,2]), theme ([modal-adj (I don't believe), topical (that pudding)]), rheme (ever will be cooked)]

The list of integer values assigned to 'alternative-to' indicates the clause analysis/analyses where the congruent interpretation of this clause is given:

[ref( 1 ), theme ([topical (I)]), rheme (don't believe)]

[ref(2), theme ([topical (that pudding)]), rheme (ever will be cooked.)]


Besides the text-view, analyses are also saved as prolog terms in a Turbo Prolog external database. Prolog is what is known as a declarative or database language. For instance after analyzing the first clause of the document TEXT1 in terms of theme-rheme, mood-residue and transitivity structures, our database would contain the following three terms:

1, [ref(1), theme ([e('topical', 'Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business')]' rheme (,can often be a difficult operation.')]

2, [ref( 1), mood ([m (' subject', 'Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business'), m('finite', 'can'), m (,mood-adj', 'often')]), residue ([r ('pred', 'be'), r ('complement', 'a difficult operation.')])]

3, [ref(l), participant ([e ('carrier', 'Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business')]), process ([e (,intensive', 'can often be')]), participant (le (,attrib', 'a difficult operation.')])]

In this way, information about the clauses that comprise a text can be accessed easily and efficiently. In fact, two external database files are saved for each text, one containing the screen data (what the contents were of each field in the analysis screen when the user saved the analysis and exited to Sprint), the other the analyses themselves. The file containing the screen data is necessary for the functioning of the program - it is not accessible by the user. If, as mentioned before, you highlight a previously analyzed clause, then the analysis screen will appear just as you left it when you saved and exited to Sprint. This makes it easier for the user to modify a previous analysis. The second database file was designed to support further extension of the software in two ways: (a) to enable a user to query the database for information about consistent patterns of usage; (b) to facilitate future automation of certain steps in the analytical process. Work on a dictionary to accompany the processor has also been successfully completed. To this end, I translated the Pascal source code for Borland's Turbo Lightning's engine into C so as to permit direct access of Turbo Lightning's dictionary and thesaurus entries from within Prolog.

Processing for meaning

The solution structure emerging from a lexicogrammatical description involving the three levels of structural analysis (theme-rheme, moodresidue, and transitivity) enables one to show how, and why, the text means what it does (1985: xv). Ruqaiya Hasan's (1989) analysis of Les Murray's poem, Widower in the country, clearly demonstrates how a knowledge of theme-rheme, mood-residue and transitivity structures provides the basis for identifying foregrounding thereby contributing greatly to our understanding of the meaning of the text.

Contributing to the understanding of the text is, in fact, the lower of two


possible levels of achievement for the linguist to aim at. 'The higher level achievement', says Halliday, , is a contribution to the evaluation of the text: the linguistic analysis may enable one to say why the text is, or is not, an effective text for its own purposes in what respects it succeeds and in what respect it fails, or is less successful' (1985: xv). Understanding the text is one thing, evaluating the text is another. The latter 'assumes an interpretation not only of the environment of the text, its "context of situation" and context of culture, but also of how the linguistic features of a text relate systematically to the features of its environment, including the intentions of those involved in its production' (1985: xv, xvi).

The relationship between text and context is described by Hasan (1981: 111) as two fold for the acculturated reader:

If we have access to the context, we can predict the essentials of the text; if we have access to the text, then we can infer the context from it.

Given the semiotic encoding of the context of situation, Hasan argues, 'we can predict the crucial semantic elements of the embedded text as well as the permitted range for the over-all message form' (1981: 110). The ability to make predictions - that the listener and reader have a good idea of what to expect - follows from 'the organisation of a text, and in particular the relation of a text, as a semantic unit, to a clause as the primary lexicogrammatical unit through which it is realized' (Halliday 1981 : 43.44). Analyzing texts in terms of theme-rheme, mood-residue, and transitivity structures can thus contribute to our knowledge of what constitutes that 'permitted range for the over-all message form'.

A word processor assists the writer by making the task of writing easier to accomplish. Of course, the writer must still know what (s)he wants to communicate, the computer does not itself create the text. Similarly, the Functional Grammar Processor assists the user in doing the analysis; it also facilitates the subsequent retrieval of information about the text by collecting all the clause analyses into a global database. The user must still do the analysis, e.g. the user identifies the next element in the clause, enters that element into the appropriate field, decides the analysis is complete, exits and saves. The computer does not interpret meaning - perhaps that will come later - for now, it only records the interpretation made by the user. The user must know how to analyze the text, the computer does not itself understand the text. The FGP is a tool, a processor, not a parser. Its potential as a parser, however, should not be overlooked.

The FGP as a blackboard system

Conceptually, the FG Processor resembles ill certain respects the blackboard model of problem solving. Different knowledge sources participate in 'assembling' a solution. Edward Feigenbaum calls it , "knowledge assembly" - finding the right piece of knowledge to build

188

into the right place Engelmore et al.

blackboard model:

JONATHAN J. WEBSTER

in the emerging solution structure' (1988: vi). (1988: 4) identify two basic components of the

(1) The knowledge sources

The knowledge needed to solve the problem partitioned into knowledge sources, which are kept separate and independent.

(2) The blackboard data structure

The problem-solving state data are kept in a global database, the blackboard. Knowledge sources produce changes to the blackboard which lead incrementally to a solution to the problem. Communication and interaction among the knowledge sources take place solely through the blackboard.

The three kinds of structural analysis that together comprise the FG Processor are each a knowledge source, a knowledge module. Each participates 'in the incremental generation of partial solutions' (Engelmore et al., 1988: 5). How they do so is by making changes to the blackboard. The modules are independent of one another, each has its own unique terminology and organization. But they may interact by means of the blackboard. Whenever a clause is analyzed, by whichever module, that analysis is saved as a Prolog term to an external database - the blackboard. Each module looks to the blackboard, responding 'opportunistically to changes on the blackboard' (Engelmore et al., 1988: 13).

In further developing the FGP attention must be given to automating this aspect of the system - opportunistic reasoning. A set of control modules are necessary to monitor changes to the blackboard and set the agenda for further work toward a solution structure.

TEXT PROCESSING USING FGP

[ T Stitching togethe can often be a di But when you have tailor-made to SU At Jardine Office expertise, but al capable of maximi are networking en The ALR serve sys capacity, and wit control every act Then. to further superb range of t For extra storage sub-system; for b power supply. We PROTEaN token rin

r the ideal computer Edit

Undelete

Copy MOVe-Cut Insert-Paste Erase

Block Select Write Block

Search-Replace Go to Page Jump to Line Place Mark

4 yl

Sprint system for File

Edit

Insert F4 Typestyle F5 Style F6 Layout

Print Window Utili ties Customize

Composing strategies F9

Quit

and fibr FGP Functional Grammar Processor LCS, ACCPAC PLUS, an g to hel p your corn ect with each other. It's all ly competitive prices and the Jardine Office Systems '-----..Jludes warranty, installation. and even staff training. C:\SP\SPDOCS\TEXT1.SPR

Display 9.1

[ T 3

Ins Sel

Stitching together the ideal computer syst can often be a difficult operation. But when you have the right connections. e tailor-made to suit your needs. At Jardine Office Systems, we not only off expertise. but also an entire range of sof capable of maximising your output, in any are networking environment.

9: 17am Ln.4 of 32

Mous Copy Move-Cut Paste Erase

Write Block Select Typestyle Index Word

189

Alt-F Alt-E

Alt-I Alt-T Alt-S Alt-L

Alt-P Alt-W Alt-U Alt-C

I Alt-Q I

ColO

F5 F6

BLOCK Alt-T

The ALR serve systems give exceptional spe capacity, and with a Novell operating syst control every activity on the netr---FGP Then. to further peration Theme superb range of t Analyze clause Mood For extra storage Delete record Process

Functional Grammar Processor

Cancel

sub-system: for b LGAR uninterruptable power supply. We can offer you the Canon LBP-8ll server printer, PROTEaN token ring, HYUNDAI terminal workstations, BICC coaxial and fibre optic cabling, COMPUTER ASSOCIATES SUPERCALC5, ACCPAC PLUS, and CSPI BABY/36, in fact, virtually everything to help your computers connect with each other. It's all at extremely competitive prices and the Jardine Office Systems service includes warranty, installation, and even staff traini~g.

C:\SP\SPDOCS\TEXT1.SPR Ins Sel 9:18am Ln.3 of 32

Display 9.2

Co13S


r----------------------------[ Mood-Residue Structure

Clause Stitching can often

rut side Interpersonal

together the ideal computer system for your business be a difficult operation.

Textual

Mood Adjunct

Complement

Adjunct

Reference No. Alt Document C:\SP\SPDOCS\TEXTl

[Esc}-Exit [F1}-Help [F5}-Write [F5}-Erase [F9}-Menu [FIO}-Save

Display 9.3

J

r---------------------------[ Mood-Residue Structure }--------------------------~

Clause

~utside 1 Interpersonal Textual

Mood Structure'-------------------------------------------------------------, Subject Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business

Finite can Mood Adjunct often

Residue Structure.------------~--------------------------------------------, Predicator be Complement a difficult operationo

Circumstantial Adjunct

Analysis,------------------------------------------------------------------~ mood(subject(Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business).finite(can) ,mood_adj(often)) ,residue(pred(be ).complement(a difficult operation.))


[Esc}-Exit [Fl)-Help [F5)-Write [F6)-Erase [F9)-Menu [F10}-Save

Display 9.4


r---------------------------[ Transitivity Structure

Clause Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business can often be a difficult operation.

[Interpersonal I Textual

[particiPant

[Circumstance


[Esc}-Exit [Fl)-Help [F5)-Write [F5}-Erase [F9)-Menu [FIO}-Save

Display 9.5

191

r---------------------------[ Transitivity Structure ) __________________________ --.

Clause a difficult operation.

[Interpersonal--------------------~--Textual

,Process ~{ Process ] Ican often be A. Material

HELP [ Type } HELP ------,---, B. Mental There are six types of relational proce~s ---[ Type ] Behavioural in English: Intensive Relational (1) intensive - the relationship is Circumstantial Verbal one of sameness; the one 'is' the other. (11) circumstantial - the relationship between the two terms is one of time, place, manner, cause, accompaniment, matter or role. (iii) possessive - the relationship between the two terms is one of ownership; one en~ity possesses the other. (From Halliday, 1985:114,119,121)

Possessive Existential

1

nt C:\SP\SPDOCS\TEXT1

[Esc)-Exit [Fl)-Help [F5}-Write [F5}-Erase [F9}-Menu [FIO}-Save

Display 9.6


,----------------------------( Transitivity Structure ]--------------------------~

Clause

~Interpersonal----------------------r-Textual.--------------------------------,

r:Process lean often be

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(T 2 3 5 6]L Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business can often be a difficult operation. But when you have the right connections, everything can be tailor,made to suit your needs~ At Jardine Office Systems, We not only offer you unrivalled expertise, but also an entire range of software and hardware capable of maximising your output, in any multivendor or local are networking environment. The ALR serve systems give exceptional speed and performance capacity, and with a Novell operating system, you can monitor and control every activity on the network. Then, to further increase your capabilities, we can offer you a superb range of the very latest equipment. For extra storage and tape backup capability, there's the CORE sub-system; for back-up power, we have the ELGAR uninterruptable power supply. We can offer you the Canon LBP-8ll server printer. PROTEON token ring, HYUNDAI terminal workstations, BICC coaxial and fibre optic cabling, COMPUTER ASSOCIATES SUPERCALC5, ACCPAC PLUS, and CS PI BABY/36, in fact, Virtually everything to help your computers connect with each other. It's all at extremely competitive prices and the Jardine Office Systems service includes warranty, installation, and even staff training. . C:\PROLOG\TOOLBOX\TEXT1.SPR Ins 9:04am Ln.2 of 32

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[ref(l),mood-residue( [mood(subject(Stitching together the ideal computer system for your business),finite(can),mood_adJ(often)), residue(pred(be),complement(a difficult operation.))])] But when you have the right connections, everything can be tailor-made to suit your needs. At Jardine Office Systems, we .not only offer you unrivalled expertise, but also an entire range of software and hardware capable of maximising your output, in any multivendor or local are networking environment. The ALR serve systems give exceptional speed and performance capacity, and with a Novell operating system, you can monitor and control every activity on the network. Then, to further increase your capabilities, we can offer you a superb range of the very latest equipment. For extra storage and tape backup capability, there's the CORE sUb-system; for back-up power, we have the ELGAR uninterruptable power supply. We can offer you the Canon LBP-8ll server prin~er, PROTEaN token ring, HYUNDAI terminal workstations, BICC coax1al and fibre optic cabling, COMPUTER ASSOCIATES SUPERCALC5, ACCPAC PLUS, and CSPI BABY/36, in fact, virtually everything to help your computers connect with each other.

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References

195

Colf

Engclmore, R., A.J. Morgan and H.P. Nii (1988), Introduction to Engelmore, R. and T. Morgan (eds), Blackboard Systems, New York, Addison-Wesley Publishing Company.

Feigenbaum, E. (1988), Forward to Engelmore, R. and T. Morgan (eds), Blackboard Systems, New York, Addison-Wesley Publishing Company.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1981), 'Text Semantics and Clause Grammar: Some patterns of realization', The seventh LACUS forum, James E, Copeland and P.W. Davis (eds), Columbia SC, Hornbeam Press, 31-60.

Halliday, M.A.K. (1985), Introduction to Functional Grammar, London, Edward Arnold.

Hasan, Ruqaiya (1981), 'What's Going On: A Dynamic View of Context in Language', The seventh LACUSforum, James E. Copeland and P.W. Davis. (eds), Columbia SC Hornbeam Press, 106-121.

Hasan, Ruqaiya (1989), Linguistics, language, and verbal art, Oxford, Oxford University Press.

Lamb, Sydney M. (1985), 'Descriptive Process' The eleventh LACUS forum, Robert A. Hall, Jr. (ed.), Columbia SC, Hornbeam Press, 5-20.

10 Collocation in computer modelling of lexis as most delicate grammar Marilyn Cross

1 Lexis in generation

The term lexis will be used to refer to 'the resources of the vocabulary. f coverin both the static organisation of vocal:mlary and th: process 0

lexical ~hoice' (Matthiessen 1988a, p. 3). LexIs contrasts w;th ~~e ~ore widely used term 'lexicon' (cf. Mel'tuk and Polg~ere 198; Iren urg and Raskin 1987), which tends to cover vocabulary m much the. same way as in lexicography, treating it from the three aspects of semantl~s, ~ynta~ and phonology. The term lexicon will be reserved for th: orgamzatlOn 0

vocabulary from a lexicographical position and also m extracts from authors referred to in this chapter. Tucker and Fawcet~ (1991) who have also been implementing lexis as most delicate grammar m the .COM~UN~L

ro'ect (Fawcett and Tucker, 1990) recently made the pomt : at e p re~ailin paradigm for lexis in computer syst.ems for. parsmg . and ~ndersta~ding text is the 'list', following the lexIcographIcal parad.Igmi Indeed one might suggest that the development of transformatlOna enera~ive grammar with its claim for the 'autonomy .of synta~ from

~emantics' has been influential in the development of a hst paradlgm for

the lexicon (ter Meulen 1988, p. 433). ..' _ Until recently, lexis has received relatIvely ht~le attentl?n from genera

e tionists _ 'in most of the generation systems, leXIcal s?lectlOn could not. b a primary concern due to the overwhelming compleXIty of the generatlOn problem itself' (Pustejovsky and Nirenburg 1987, p. 201). Ho,":ever, generationists are bound to treat lexis in some manner and accordmg.to Cumming (1986), that treatment is very varied. One aspect of th~t van~tion has been the creation of a division between grammar and lexIs on t e

basis of closed and open systems;

o en-class items are not only conceptually different fro~ closed-class it~ms but are processed differently as well. Closed class Items have no

LEXIS AS MOST DELICATE GRAMMAR 197

epistemological status other than procedural attachments to conceptual and discourse information (Pustejovsky and Nirenburg 1987, p. 205).

The original conception of the Nigel grammar was to run with a separate lexicon that generated open-class lexical items and for grammatical items to be generated through the grammar module (Mann 1983). Not every generationist has subscribed to the division of grammatical words from lexical words (Matthiessen 1988a). In McKeown's TEXT, the dictionary component covers both the open-class and closed-class lexical items (McKeown 1985). Patten's (1988) generator has no separate lexicon, but outputs both grammatical and lexical words as a result of the choices taken in both the semantic and grammatical networks. Ward (1988) departs from the multi-stage model of generation (McDonald, Vaughan and Pustejovsky 1987), using a single semantic network to represent both linguistic knowledge and world knowledge. Words are selected through cumulative activation of the network.

The task of choosing appropriately from the open-class of lexical items has been tackled in various ways. Some form of discrimination net is quite commonly used in which selection tests are applied to pick the appropriate word (Goldman 1975; Pustejovsky and Nirenburg 1987). In Babel (Goldman 1975) verb senses are given 'defining characteristics' that enable differentiation of one lexical verb from another. For example, to differentiate drink from eat, which both have the underlying concept INGEST, the Object has the property FLUID for drink but not for eat.

One problem with discrimination nets is the tendency to include constraints that originate from heterogenous sources. In the example from Babel, not only is there information based on lexical constraints, but also information that is grammatically motivated - for example, constraints based on Beneficiary and Tense. Thus, the basis of the discrimination net tends to be somewhat eclectic. Of interest, is the demonstration by Matthiessen (1988c) that the discrimination nets of Goldman that are based on ideational meaning fit readily into an extension of the dispositive Process network.

In the generators discussed, the emphasis has been on selecting the 'correct' lexical item. Hovy (1985; 198 7 a) has been concerned to differentiate between lexical items that have some degree of synonymy in texts. In an exploration of how to 'slant' texts, Hovy uses a lexicon in which items are tagged for affect (1985) and in which the selection of lexical items is based on rhetorical goals that mediate between a speaker's pragmatic goals and a text's style (1987a).

198 MARILYN CROSS

2 Prolegomena to a model for lexis

2.1 Lexis as closed or open system

In order to examine the case for a cline between grammar and lexis, the traditional treatment of lexis as an open system will be discussed and contrasted with the treatment of grammar as a closed system.

A closed system is a series of terms where the list of terms is exhaustive, each term excludes all the others and if a new term is added, at least one of the previous terms undergoes a change of meaning, so that in effect a new system replaces the old (Halliday 1961). From this perspective, grammar is characterized by closed relations where there is a choice among a fixed number of possibilities: for example, in the personal pronoun set, class membership is closed - a new pronoun is much less likely to be added (Halliday 1985b). If the lexis does not readily behave as a closed system, one alternative is to view it as an open system. For lexis, class membership is open and extendable. Even so, the addition of a new lexical item does result in a shift in the organization of the relationships existing between the members of the set:

(a linguistic) move has a repercussion upon the whole system .... The changes in values which result may be, in any particular circumstance, negligible, or very serious, or of moderate importance (Saussure 1906, p. 88).

As an example, the addition of the lexical item AIDS to the set of sexually transmitted diseases does not come into a lexical void but fits into a system of disease types, contrasting with the other members of the set. Thus, one basis for meaning for both grammatical and lexical items is their value in a paradigmatic system:

a system in which all the elements fit together, and in which the value of anyone element depends on the simultaneous coexistence of all the others (Saussure 1906, p. 113).

The work of computational linguists building ontologies for the lexicons of machine readable dictionaries attests to this viewpoint (Byrd et al. 1987; Wilks et al. 1989). If the basis for relating the items of closed and open sets is one of paradigmatic relations, the distinction between grammatical and lexical items is not one of kind but one of quantity. Halliday (1961) has maintained that the difference between grammar and lexis is in terms of delicacy in the system network.


2.2 Lexis as most delicate grammar

It is three decades ago that Halliday remarked:

The grammarian's dream ... is to turn the whole of linguistic form into grammar, hoping to show that lexis can be defined as 'most delicate grammar' (Halliday 1961, p. 256).

The feasibility of the task of 'extending a lexicogrammatical network in delicacy so as to turn it into a device for the description and generation of ... lexical items' (Hasan 1987, p. 185) was explored for some material Processes by Hasan (1985; 1987).

Hasan (1987) explored how Processes 'whose completion results in gainlloss of access to things' (p. 187), for example, the lexical items gather, collect and accumulate might be described as part of the Transitivity region of grammar. The systems that led to the generation of the lexical items were treated as more delicate choices within the material Process category. The choice of features in the lexical extension of the grammatical networks not only influenced lexical choice but also had contingent structural effects (cf. Fawcett 1987).

The critical theoretical tenet underpinning the grammarian's dream is the scale of delicacy, which enables grammar to be extended out to lexis. Delicacy enables linguistic description to be made at varying degrees of abstraction, beginning with the most abstract or primary degree of delicacy and continuing along the scale until that level of abstraction is reached that is sufficient for the descriptive task (Halliday 1976a, pp. 62-67). Two assumptions that spring from this tenet are that grammar and lexis are unified on a continuum and that lexical items may be distinguished by grammatical criteria. The result of the grammarian's dream is that the division between lexis and grammar disappears and the resources merge.

2.3 Collocation

Firth (1957a) first introduced into descriptive linguistics the idea of meaning by collocation, in which part of the meaning of word is given by its habitual association with other words. Firth maintained that meaning by collocation was 'an abstraction at the syntagmatic level' and was not concerned with the conceptual approach to word meaning (Firth 1957a, p. 196). Following the discussion of Halliday (1966), one may suggest that the range of collocation is correlated with different grammatical forms:

it is not to say there is no interrelation between structural and collocational patterns; but . .. their interdependence can be regarded as mutual rather than as one-way (and) it will be more clearly displayed by a form of statement which first shows grammatical and lexical restrictions separately and then brings them together (Halliday 1966, p. 152).

200 MARIL YN CROSS

Matthiessen (1990) has briefly discussed the collocation of various grammatical functions, such as Medium and Range with certain kinds of processes, which is an important outcome of the research reported here (refer sections 3.2 and 3.6). How the lexical restrictions may be captured in a representation is another question, but it is a problem that may be addressed on a large scale and empirically now that machine based corpora and dictionaries are available (Velardi and Pazienza 1989; Wilks et al. 1988, 1989; Small et al. 1988). As collocation is a relationship between lexical items that co-varies with grammatical patterns (Halliday 1966), it may be accounted for in a model of lexis as most delicate grammar.

2. 1- Lexical restrictions and register

Register theory deals with the interrelationship between linguistic variation and types of audience and situation (Bateman and Paris 1989a) in a principled linguistic way:

Types of situation differ from one another, broadly speaking in three respects: first, as regards to what is actually taking place [field]; secondly, as regards what part the language is playing [model; and, thirdly, as regards who is taking part [ tenor]. These three variables, taken together, determine the range within which meanings are selected and the forms which are used for their expression .... What the theory of register does is to attempt to uncover the general principles which govern this variation, so that we can begin to understand what situ ational factors determine what linguistic features . . . (Halliday 1978: 31-2).

One observation that may be made from the examination of collocation is that register plays a part in the selectional restriction of lexis. Register is relevant to the treatment of lexis both for text understanding and generation. For robustness, a generator should provide the flexibility to deal with heterogeneous texts. Pragmatically, once the register of a text genre is defined, the range of choice available for those texts is circumscribed. The narrowing of choice begins at the level of text structure and continues right through to the lexis. At the level of lexis, it seems almost trite to claim that in texts, for example, about the environment, the probability of lexical items such as hippopotamus or love occurring would be relatively low. However, its implications for the organization of lexis for generation is profound (refer Wilks et al. 1989 and Small et al. 1988 on lexical ambiguity). Not only is the choice of items restricted, but by extension, the collocational sets into which the items enter are limited. Thus, for example, if one takes the lexical item water in pedagogical texts on the water cycle, and a range of three lexical items either side of water, the significant collocational set (Sinclair 1966) would include cycle, fresh, supply, evaporate, vapour, land, area, fall, snow, drain, rain, lots, turn, little, drop, cloud, big. The

I ---.::


pervasiveness of water in this domain may be compared with the distribution of the item in a medical domain where the few occurrences relate to its role as a medium for disease, for example, water-borne hepatitis (Hobbs 1986).

Given that register predicts what forms may occur, it may be seen as selecting both the range of the lexis and the collocational set. It is possible then, to reflect this in the lexis. The logical outcome is to limit or filter the range of lexis available to the generator, for example, the subworld division of Nirenburg and Raskin (1987) for machine translation and Pustejovsky and Nirenburg (1987) for generation. Even where the goal is to provide a lexical resource that covers a heterogeneity of text types (Calzorlari and Picchi 1988; Pazienza and Velardi 1987), there may be some account taken of register, for example, the utilisation of field descriptors such as 'engineering' in the LDOCE (Wilks et al. 1988). The solution to build a different lexis for each project has the usual limitation of scalability (Wilks et al. 1988, 1989).

2.5 A model for lexis

A model of lexis as most delicate grammar extends grammar along the scale of delicacy out to lexis. Its affinity is with the multi-stage models of generation, such as Mann (1983), McKeown (1985) and Patten (1988). The treatment of lexis as most delicate grammar has its closest counterpart in Patten (1988) and follows the general model described by (Matthiessen, 1988a). The COMMUNAL project at Cardiff has also been implementing a model of lexis as most delicate grammar (Tucker and Fawcett 1991).

In the model, lexis is perforce subdivided by grammatical class. The description of the lexis for verbs extends the network for Processes (Halliday 1985; Hasan 1987). Similarly, the description of the lexis for nominals is made after the choice is made for the nominal group (Halliday 1976b). The majority of workers in lexis make a primary division in the lexis between nouns and verbs (Miller 1985; Dahlgren et al. 1989). However, not only is the lexis modelled for Process and Thing, but also for Quality (' adjectives') and Condition (' adverbs').

3 Implementation

3.1 Implementation of the model of lexis in HORACE

The implementation of the model of lexis forms part of a larger project (called HORACE) that attempts to develop an explicit model or text production using the methodology of computer generation (Cross 1991a). The model is based on the Systemic-Functional theory of language and utilizes the Nigel grammar (Mann 1983; Mann and Matthiessen 1983;

202

STAGES

STAGE 2

MARILYN CROSS

BLACKBOARDS KNOWLEDGE SOURCES

SCHEDULE J .... ----------

/ ~~------------~1 .. 1 CONTEXTUAL CONFIGURATION _

GENERIC STRUCTURE HOICES

STRUCTURE

NUCLEAR AND ELABORATIVE MEANINGS HIE

STRUCTURE

RHETORICAL STRUCTURE HOC S

ST UCTURE

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FEATURES

/

CONTEXTUAL POTENTIAL

GENERIC STRUCTURE POTENTIAL

NUCLEAR AND ELABORATIVE MEANINGS POTENTIAL

RHETORICAL STRUCTURE POTENTIAL

SEMANTIC-LEXICOGRAMMAR RES ELECTIONS

LEXICOGRAMMAR

LEXICOGRAMMATICAL STRUCT RE

REALIZATION STATEMENTS

~CTUREB~

-1 TEXT JI----/ Figure 10.1 Lexicogrammatical resource in the architecture of HORACE


Matthiessen, 1988b,c). The location of the lexicogrammatical resource m the architecture of the system is given in Figure 10.1.

As register-based generation, the implementation has taken the theoretical approach of Patten (1988) and Bateman and Paris (1989a,b). The feature based lexical networks are metalinguistic (Goldman 1975; Hobbs et al. 1987; Pazienza and Velardi 1987;) rather than lexical taxonomic (Eggins, Martin and Wignell 1987). Because lexis is represented on a continuum with grammar, there is no need to incorporate grammatical information into the lexical items. With lexis as most delicate grammar, the ontology of the lexis is theoretically and practically embedded in the grammar and has no need of extralinguistic justification (cf. Hobbs et al. 1987; Dahlgren et al. 1989). Moreover, there is an a priori grammatical division (Miller 1985; Ritchie et al. 1987) rather than the theoretically unjustified overlap presented in some ontologies (Dahlgren and McDowell 1986; Dahlgren et al. 1989). Finally, the model of lexis as most delicate grammar attenuates the distinction between the closed systems and the open systems of lexis rendering both as:

a system in which all the elements fit together, and in which the value of anyone element depends on the simultaneous coexistence of all the others_ (Saussure 1906, p. 113).

The issue of a lexis that not only takes account of denotative meaning but also connotative/affective meaning and the textual function of vocabulary is one that has been raised by Matthiessen:

Any lexical choice will potentially reflect all three metafunctions. Ideationally it represents some phenomenon by classifying it in relation to a lexical taxonomy. Interpersonally, it is a positioning in terms of formality, attitude and so on. Textually, it relates to previous discourse by repeating, varying, generalising, or summarising a previous item (Matthiessen 1988a, p. 8).

In HORACE the model of lexis is built primarily using the ideational meaning of the lexical item. It is this aspect of meaning that is reflected in the register of environmental texts which provides the base for the project. However, where there is contrast between vocabulary items on the basis of tenor, then the constraint mechanism is invoked which enables extra-network determination of choice (Matthiessen 1987; Cross 1991a). Thus, vocabulary items which are indistinguishable in terms of ideational meaning are differentiated by means of interpersonal meaning. The model adopted is one in which interpersonal meanings combine with the ideational lexis rather than make independent contributions (Matthiessen 1988a).

The grammar is extended using the system network convention equivalent to an acyclic directed graph. The divisions in the network are based on the word meanings and contrasts that exist in the exemplar texts.

204 MARIL YN CROSS

The nodes of the network are paradigmatic (Halliday 1985). The actual lexical items are generated through realisation statements attached to the nodes of the network.

3.2 Organization of the material process network

In Nigel, four types of Processes are identified: material, mental, verbal and relational (Halliday 1985). The majority of Processes in the environmental text are material and relational, so the part of the implementation described here is a fragment of the material network. There will be some brief reference to the lexical network built for nominals.

The starting point for the extension of the material Process network is where Nigel terminates its description of material Processes. In the material Process network the gate EFFECTIVE-MATERIAL is the entry condition for the system DOING-TYPE with a choice between dispositive and creative types of Processes. The material Processes that occur in the texts may be grouped into six major categories: transformation, behaviour, motion, occurrence, dispositive and creative with their linking into the Nigel network shown in Figure 10.2.

3.3 Transformation in the material process network

The transformation Processes are those in which the Medium undergoes a transformation of some kind. The transformation may be a metamorphosis in which the Medium changes from one state to another, for example, evaporate, in which the Medium changes from liquid to gas. The transformation may undergo a change in state but not be metamorphosized, for example, heat, where the Medium changes temperature but not form. Transformation may also be a change in physical form, for example, break in which the wholeness of the physical form is breached, or a change in composition, for example, desalinate where a substance is subtracted from the Medium. In brief, the sub types in Transformation are:

change-intensity metamorphosis change-in-physical form change-in -composition

increase/decrease attribute change from one state to another change outward physical form addition/subtraction substance

Transformation is exemplified in the texts through the lexical items heat, cool, evaporate, condense, transpire, increase, decrease, dry, melt, freeze, absorb, desalinate, compact, crack, and break. Examples from the texts are:

El. When the sea is heated by the sun E2. from where it (water) evaporates again

1

LEXIS AS MOST DELICATE GRAMMAR

~ transformation

{ L behaviour

material other-malerial

mental

verbal

relational

-{

occurrence

non meteorological

motion

meteorological

205

creative

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dispositive action

Key

there Is a system x/y with entry condition a (If a, then either x or y)

there are two systems BIb and xly, ordered in dependence so that a/b has entry condition m and xly has entry condition 8 (If m then either a or b, and If a, then either x or y)

{

-{

m there are two simultaneous systems mln and xly, both having ent~ condition a (If a, then both either m or n

nand Independenty, either x or y)

-{: there Is a system xly with compound entry condition conjunction of 8 and c (If both a and c then either 'x or y)

there Is 8 system xly with two possible entry conditions 8 or d (If either a or d, then either x or y) ,

Figure 10.2 Organization of the material process network

206 MARIL YN CROSS

Figure 10.3 Partial network for transformation - 1

E3. The icebergs melt in the sea E4. In some desert regions seawater IS desalinated E5. There it is compacted into ice

For each of the Processes, the transformation is subtly different. For cool, the Medium changes temperature, but does not undergo a metamorphosis from one form to another, as in evaporate, or a change in the outward physical form, for example, break, or a change in composition, for example, desalinate. The process cool may be contrasted with the process heat. the former is an increase in temperature, the latter a decrease in temperature. Comparing compact with heat and cool, the former differs from heat and cool, in that the Medium undergoes a change in physical form. However, if one pairs compact with expand, then the pair is linked by the contrast of increase/ decrease as are the pair cool and heat. U sing the feature < changeintensity> to represent increase/decrease then it might be suggested that < change-intensity> contributes to heat, cool, compact and expand. The differentiation between the pairs may be described as < thermal-change> versus < volume-change>. For the distinctions described so far, the network is diagrammed in Figure 10.3.

As was argued previously and is shown in the network, < change-inphysical-form> and < volume-decrease> are features that will eventually lead to the lexical item compact. If the range of possible lexical items is extended to cover break and crack, then it may be argued that part of the meaning of all of these items is < change-in-physical-form, > as it is for compact. Break and crack do not share the feature < volume-decrease> with compact. Further differentiation may be captured by positing the opposing features < wholeness-breached> and < wholeness-unbreached >. Break and


crack share the feature ,-;:. wholeness-breached> and compact requires the feature < wholeness-unbreached >. With the pair break and crack a point has been reached where there is some degree of synonymy at least in the register under examination. Constructing some text based examples, the following are possible:

E6. Water can seep through some rocks such as granite which IS cracked through weathering.

E7. Water can seep through some rocks such as granite which IS

broken through weathering.

The pro~lem. is h~w to differentiate between cracked and broken. One possible s?lutlOn IS to mtroduce another system that leads to one item classes. To dlffe~e?~iate betwe~n break and crack, the features < division-specified> and < dlvlSlon-unspeClfied > might be introduced, in the sense that break can. ~~an a division into pieces, whereas crack does not necessarily involve a dlvlSlon. The network would then be expanded as shown in Figure 10.4.

nomenon.unspecified o-volumEHlhanga {tnomenon-specified --[oIUmEHlhanga

chang.·lnlens -cease --[ ~------------------------------~j~~

o.ffiange-lntonslty deformatlon-speclfled

{

anoe-ln-physlcal.form _ [ -{ doformatio",unspeclfled

-{

whoIenoss-breached

-chang~n-physlcal.lorm Maid unspecified wholenoss·unbreached _

crack

Figure lOA Partial network for transformation - 2

This . solu~ion bases differentiation in the network, prior to the choice of the lex~cal Item (cf. Ward 1988). If the approach is taken to its logical concluslOn, then every word would have a corresponding node in the network. For a limited register, this is feasible (Patten 1988). However, there may be places where ideationally items appear to be synonymous in

208 MARIL YN CROSS

{ :::oe -[

ng~ ncrease ..• _~--"

ease •.. _______ "

ge-intensily 3 thermal

evaporate

transformation I initial-sol.~3--{

metamorphosis ~J Initial-liquid } _-----t--t"' 1 initial-gas

no-metamorphosis -t final-solid } ____ -t--' flnal~iquid

flnal-gas :L 7------.J}treeze

-ce~n-phylliCaI-fOrm

hange-In-physlcal.form


a given context. In such a case, one solution is to use the interpersonal meaning to guide the choice.

As was mentioned previously, there is a subgroup of transformation processes in which the Medium undergoes a metamorphosis. Take for example the pair evaporate and condense. For evaporate the Medium begins with an initial liquid form and changes to a final gaseous form. For condense, the reverse occurs: the Medium begins with an initial gaseous form and changes to a final liquid form. However, there is more. The metamorphoses involve a change in thermal energy, so that part of the meaning of evaporate is an increase in thermal energy and part of the meaning of condense is a decrease in thermal energy. Including another contrastive pair in the network, the processes melt and freeze also involve an increase in thermal energy and a decrease in thermal energy, respectively. The metamorphosis is different: melt is a change from an initial solid form to a final liquid form and freeze, an initial liquid form to a solid form. The network for the metamorphosis processes discussed is given in Figure 10.5.

Expanding the contrasts in the network, the transformational process dry up may be linked and indeed, is linked with evaporate in the texts:

E8. The sun's heat causes water to evaporate from oceans and lakes. This means that the water dries up becomes vapour and disappears into the air.

I 1


For dry up, the initial form of the Medium is specified as liquid but the ?nal form of t~e Medium is left unspecified, nor can the role of < thermal~ncrease > be mferred. The lexical item can be accounted for by introducmg ~he fe~tures < final-form-specified > and < final-form-unspecified > and mcludmg the feature < no-change-intensity > .

Ev~porate also contrasts with transpire: both involve the change of the MedlUm from liq~id to vapour, but for the latter, the role of thermal energy is not speCIfied and the process is restricted to plants. Introducing the features < plant-specified> and < plant-unspecified> differentiates between the meanings.

E9. Transpiration means the giving off of water vapour by plant leaves.

!y~s~olve is also pa~t of metamorphosis sharing with melt the change from an mltlal form of solId to a final form of liquid, but not the increase in thermal energy: Moreover, for dissolve a liquid contact material is specified. The ~xtenslOn. of the. metamorphosis network to take into account dry up, transpIre and dIssolve IS shown in Figure 10.6. T~e final lexical items to be built into the network are absorb and

desalmate. Both of these processes fall into the category of change-in-

transformatlo

f ~rmal-cheng8

{[thennal-ch~nge {

9&-lntensl ncrease .- 3- thermal·lncrease

ecraasa ••• o-change"ntenslly 3- thennal-decraasa

r metamorphosis -

L no-<neIamorphosls

-cng~n-physlcal-fonn

o-change-in-physical-fonn


eH

freeze

210 MARILYN CROSS

~ge-Inlenslty

-{ metamorphosis

-rnQe-ln-phYBlcaI-fOrm

transformation

substance -{ sait-specified_

other-subs

--desallnate

-{

-specified

substance loss ate -absorb

-{

::"ied7 ~ stance rmange-in-compositlon

L '1o-cilange -in-<Xlmposltion -substance / /

subtraction -substance


composltlon, with absorb involving the addition of a substance and desalinate the subtraction of a substance. Further distinctions are that for absorb, the Medium loses its separate identity and for desalinate the subtracted substance must be salt. The change-in-composition part of the network is given in Figure 10.7. The full network for transformative material Processes is given in Figure 10.8.

In order to demonstrate the full power of the lexical networks in HORACE, the realization statements for the network extension for transformative material Processes will be developed in section 3.5.

3.4 Grammatical status of transformational processes

Transformational processes come in a variety of guises. They can occur as both middle or effective processes (Halliday 1985a). For the latter, they can occur in both the active and passive voice. They can also occur in causative constructions. Some transformational processes can occur as material-processual Things. Not every transformational process can occur in every possible form: for example, evaporate occurs in all categories, condense occurs as a middle process or in a causative construction, while

LEXIS AS MOST DELICATE GRAMMAR

r r rhenomenon-spedfled

~henomenon,unspedfled"'!!!._-=:=--_<

no-dlang&-Intenslty Ldencrease."....,....,::::::. ______________ it

r metamorphosis -

L no·metamorphosls

( r delOlTnatlon-specltled

~ln-p~cal-fO"" -t ~ ===ed

~e-in-pll)lSlcal-fonn L whoIeness-urtlreached __ --:....:::""'~4;~

-{

salt-specified t-de.allnate substanoe )

-{

-spoclflad

sUbstance 1-{ loss~ aparate--absorb -unspeoified 9 -ex tence

{

other-sub anCB

hange-In-composilio addition 0-10 ••

-{

-{

-substance 7 -separate-axlstance

~~:~~~"J'OeSitjOn subtraction 8$ubstance

Figure 10.8 Network for transformative material processes

211

212 MARIL YN CROSS

transpire only occurs as a material-processual Thing, that is transpiration. Absorb and desalinate only occur as effective Processes.

The consequences for the network of the different possibilities for transformational Processes are twofold, affecting the entry conditions to the network and the exit to the lexicalisation. The entry conditions for the network must cover the possibility for both material Processes and material-processual Things. This means that the entry conditions for the network are disjunctive: either < material> or < material-processual > are possible entry features. Because the network has entry conditions in both the rank of clause and groups-phrases, realization statements need either to be rank neutral or captured in systems with entry conditions differentiated for rank. The lexicalization of the items also needs to be carried out separately. Take for example, the feature <evaporate> which is part of the entry conditions for two gates, one of which would lead to lexification of the Process as evaporate and the other to the lexification of the Thing as evaporation. The gates for lexification re-introduce the differentiation between Process and Thing. The joint entry conditions for the lexification of evaporate are < material> and < evaporate>, which may be contrasted with the joint entry conditions for evaporation, namely, < materialprocessual> and < evaporate>. One problem that is handled at the lexification level is the impossibility of a middle form of absorb or desalinate. The features absorb and desalinate appear in the network but can only be lexified as a verbal stem if the feature < effective-material> has been selected.

The alternatives considered and rejected for transformational Processes were to provide separate networks for material-effective transformational Processes, for material-middle transformational Processes and for materialprocessual Things. The separate networks would have allowed more specificity in the realization statements, but would have meant essentially duplicating the network three times and losing the relationship between Processes and Processual nouns. It is doubtful whether the network as it is represented offers a solution that is theoretically justifiable. Ideally, an extended network should be developed that not only maintains the commonality of meaning between the Processes and Processual nouns, but also respects the divisions of rank. However, the time and effort required for this development is not commensurate with the scope of research, although it is important to draw attention to this fact in order to avoid such lacunae in any large scale generation project. The structural consequences of choices in the network are explored in the next section which details the realizations for transformation.

3.5 Consequences of choice in the transformation network

In HORACE, the extension of the grammatical networks out to the lexis has provided a theoretically justified means of building choice into the lexis and of generating lexical items. In the material process network, for


exa~ple" the extension of the network enables choices to be made between vano~s features that ultimately determine the realisation of one particular matenal Process rather than another. However, it is also possible to expa~d the networks to capture the concurrent effects of lexical choices on assOCIated gramm~tical functions. For example, choices made in the network for matenal processes will in their turn constrain choices to be made for the Medium and Agents of those processes. This is where the formal consequences of differentiation in the lexical network made their presence felt (Hasan 1987).

In t~e work of Hasan (1987), the realizations in the fully extended form o~ lexls as most delicate grammar affect not only the production of dISpOSal ~rocesses but also serve to constrain the choices available to other grammatIcal functions within the sphere of influence of those Processes. In Hasan's words 'options have consequences: they are justified by what they do' (Hasan 1987, p. 185).

The .realization statements of the disposal network are the means for expressmg those constraints. If the realizations for the disposal network are examined, omitting the initial choices of < material> and < action> and of the benefac~ive. potential for more equal comparison with the HORACE net:vorks, It WIll be found that the majority of the realizations gov?rn . functlOns o~her than the Process. Approximately one fifth of the reahzatlOns constram the Process, the remainder constrain the Medium the A~ent, the Cooperant and the Complement. Of the latter, less tha~ one thIrd ~re conc?rned. with syntactic operations of constituency, namely, the operat~o~s of msertlOn, conflation and ordering.

The maJonty of the constraints on the Medium, Agent, Cooperant and Comp~ement are concer~ed with predetermination, expressed through the operatlOns of preselectlOn and subcategorization. The Medium, for e.xample, may preselect or be subcategorized as alienable object, divisible, smgular, plural or non~ount, i~di:ating high degree of extent or any degree of vastness, sohd or hqUld, where the configuration of predetermined choic~s depends o~ the Process selected. Thus, the full power of the network hes not only m the consequences of the choices for the ?"rammatical function under focus, in this case the Process, but also in the mfluence of the choices on associated functions.

The critic~l event in transformation processes is that the Medium is transformed m some way. The Medium starts out in one form or state and ends up in another. It is these changes that are reflected in the predeterminations expressed through the realization statements.

In the m?tamorphosis part of the network, the choice of the initial state ~f t~e Medmm, reflected in the feature choices < initial-solid> < initialhqUld> and <i~itial-gas>, pred.etermines the selection from ~he Thing network for M~dlUm. Co~res?ondmgly, the Medium will preselect for the features < sohd > , < hqUld > and < gas> in the NA TUREMATERIAL-TYPE system in the Thing network (Cross 1991b).

214 MARIL YN CROSS

(system :name METAMORPHOSIS-INITIAL-FORM :inputs

(METAMORPHOSIS) :outputs

«0.3333334 INITIAL-SOLID (PRESELECT MEDIUM SOLID» (0.3333334 INITIAL-LIQUID

(PRESELECT MEDIUM LIQUID) (0.3333334 INITIAL-GAS

(PRESELECT MEDIUM GAS») :metafunction IDEATIONAL)

Examples of processes that will be affected by the preselections are dissolve and melt for the preselection of a solid medium, evaporate, transpire, dry-up and freeze for the preselection of a liquid Medium and condense for the preselection of a gaseous medium. Not only will the Medium of processes be constrained, but also the Mediums of material-processual nominals. Thus the preselection of liquid for Medium will permit evaporation of water or moisture, but not of ice or water-vapour.

The metamorphosed state of the Medium also exerts some influence on predetermination for the Thing network. Those predeterminations will become extant if what may be called a circumstantial Complement is present. If the text includes something for the Medium to 'transform into', then the preselections may be for the features < solid>, < liquid> or < gas> in the Thing network, dependent primarily on the choice of the features < final-solid> , < final-liquid> or < final-gas> for the metamorphosed state. The result of such preselections will enable realizations such as freeze into ice, dissolve or melt into liquid, condense into water droplets, evaporate or transpire into water-vapour. The circumstantial Complement is permitted a variety of realizations as long as the features < solid>, < liquid> or < gas> are part of its systemic path selection for Thing.

Further predeterminations in the metamorphosis part of the network are possible. If the feature < evaporate> has been selected and the source of the Medium is present in the text, then that source, as the function Spacelocative, preselects for the features < water-mass> or < waterbody> :


(system :name EV APORATE-SPACELOCA TIVE-SPECIFICATION :inputs

(AND EVAPORATE-LEX-VERB NONPHORIC-PLACE AWAY-FROM-MOTION)

: outputs «0.9 WATER-SPACELOCATIVE-SPECIFIED) (0.1 WATER-SPACELOCATIVE-UNSPECIFIED»

:metafunction IDEATIONAL)

(system :name EV APORATE-SP ACELOCA TIVE-TYPE :inputs

(WATER -SP ACELOCA TIVE-SPECIFIED) :outputs

«0.5 OCEANIC-SP ACELOCA TIVE-SPECIFIED (PRESELECT SP ACELOCATIVE > MINIRANGE > THING WATER-MASS» (0.5 NONOCEANIC-SP ACELOCA TIVE-SPECIFIED (PRESELECT SP ACELOCATIVE > MINIRANGE > THING WATER-BODY»)

:metafunction IDEATIONAL)

The preselections capture the idea that the source of the Process evaporate is usually some body of water. Similarly, the material-processual nominal evaporation preselects for a source that is a body of water.

In contrast, the Process transpire requires flora as its source, realized by the Spacelocative preselecting the feature < flora -ext >. This preselection captures the constraint that transpiration comes from plants of some kind. The processual-nominal transpiration also preselects for the feature < floraext> if the source of the transpiration is present in the text. There is also the possibility that the source of the transpiration may be realized through the grammatical function Agent in an effective-material clause, in which case the Agent preselects for < flora-ext > in the Thing network. The examples of transpiration in the texts avoid the direct use of Agent for the source of the moisture by introducing the source in conjunction with another Process. In the example from T5, the sources plants and plant leaves are linked respectively to used and giving off:

T5: 21. ISome of the moisture [[used by plants]] soon returns to the air through

transpiration.! 23. ITranspiration means the giving off of water vapour by plant leaves.!

In T7, the source plants is introduced in conjunction with absorbed:

216 MARIL YN CROSS

T7: 18. ISome soaks into the soill 19. /where it is absorbed by plants/ 20. land partly returned to the air through transpiration.!

In the change-in-physical-form part of the transformation network, Medium preselects for the feature < solid> in the Thing network, reflecting the linguistic fact that solid rather than liquid or gaseous Things compact, break and crack. Within that same subnetwork, the transformed Medium, realized by the grammatical function Spacelocative, preselects for the feature < thing-part> in the Thing Network, capturing the linguistic fact that Things break or crack into pieces.

The final consequence of the choices made in Transformation occurs in the change-in-composition part of the network where for the feature < desalinate >, Medium preselects for the feature < water-form-nonext > , expressing the strong probability that the Medium will be water in its liquid form.

Let me extend the argument to examine preselection between Thing and Epithet and/or Classifier. In· the matter cycle register, if the feature < cycle-nonext > is selected in the Thing network, which will be lexified as cycle, and an Epithet is required, then that Epithet is likely to be regular, constant or continuous. Thus the Epithet would preselect the features < quality-regularity-specified> or < quality-interruptability-specified > from the Quality system network. Similarly, the range of collocation is limited if a Classifier is required. The possibilities for a Classifier are natural, or some kind of matter, for example, water cycle, nitrogen cycle or carbon cycle. Thus the preselections for Classifier would be < qualitycausality-specified> from the Quality network and from the Thing network the preselection would be for the features < elements-ext > or < compounds-ext > .

In summary, the development of the realization statements for the material Transformation network has demonstrated the full consequences of choices in the lexical network and, in particular, the predictive power of those choices. The grammatical function with greatest predictive power is the Medium, followed by the grammatical representation of the transformed Medium. This finding accords with the work of Hasan (1987) in the material disposal lexical network who also found that the Medium was the most highly constrained grammatical function. It also bears out the observation by Halliday that in the ergative representation of Transitivity, it is 'the Process and the Medium that form the nucleus of the English clause' (Halliday 1985a p. 147). Further research on the detail of the realizations in the lexical networks would test the extent of the predetermination as described in Halliday's subsequent observation that 'this nucleus then determines the range of options that are available to the rest of the clause' (ibid.).


3.6 Collocation as preselection within register

The discussion of realisations for Transformations has justified the crosslinkage of lexis through preselection by grammatical functions. Hence, given certain choices within the network for Process, preselections are validated for, minimally, the Medium and may extend to other participants such as transformed Medium and Circumstance. It is also possible to make probabilistic predictions about the preselections between participants at the rank of nominal group, for example, Thing and Epithet or Classifier. The cross-linkage through grammatical functions between paradigmatic features in the network has the ultimate effect of determining collocations. However, rather than limiting collocation to a listing of co-occurring lexical items, the preselection between grammatical functions and paradigmatic features enables linking to be made at the level of potential rather than expression. Given preselection of a certain feature in the network, the ultimate linkage might be between a number of lexical items, all of which share the preselected feature. Moreover, because the grammatical function itself is embedded in a potential, the ultimate lexification of that function may be a number of items. For example, preselection of the feature < liquid> by Medium under the aegis of the feature < initial-liquid> in the METAMORPHOSIS-INITIAL-FORM system is equivalent to collocating dry-up, evaporate, transpire and freeze with liquid or water.

Thus, it has been possible to demonstrate that collocation within register may be captured through the cross-linkage of preselection from grammatical functions to paradigmatic features in the network. Preselection at the lexical end of the grammatical continuum has the ultimate effect of establishing collocation between lexical items.

4 Conclusions

In this chapter, the rationale and implementation of a model of lexis based on most delicate grammar has been presented. With the goal of a lexical component that provides motivated choice, the approach has been to extend the grammatical networks out to lexis. The differentiation between choices in the network is based on paradigmatic features that have linguistic consequences. The detailed examination of the transformation Processes has demonstrated the impact of lexical feature choices on Participants in the Process and Circumstances surrounding the Process. It has also been shown that collocation of lexical items within a register may be handled through preselections when the lexical networks are developed for all grammatical classes.

Tasks for future research would include the implementation of finer differentiation based on large-scale collocational data, a more detailed examination of apparent synonymy within the register and the exploration of how the interpersonal and textual metafunctions might be more extensively incorporated into the model of lexis.

218 MARIL YN CROSS

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220 MARIL YN CROSS

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11 Register in the round: diversity In a unified theory of register analysis* Christian Matthiessen

1. Register in its own right

Register analysis is not subsumed under any of the new types of analysis that have been established in general linguistics in the last thirty years or so - discourse analysis, conversational analysis or ethnographic analysis -because 'register' is not a 'component' of discourse, conversation, ethnographic setting or any other similar construct; it is an aspect of a separate dimension of organization, that of functional variation. Like any other theoretical abstraction - discourse, word, structure, lexical item -register is not a separate 'thing' that can be insulated from the rest of the linguistic system and process; but we can foreground it in register analysis as one way into the complex of language in context.

Register analysis is both a linguistic and a metalinguistic activity. It is something we engage in linguistically as language users - we interpret texts in terms of the registers they instantiate and we also produce texts as instances of particular register types. As linguists, we have to engage in register analysis metalinguistically to interpret 'register' theoretically and to produce and evaluate descriptions of registers in terms of the theoretical potential of the metalanguage. But since the metalanguage we use as linguists is itself a semiotic system, it too has registers (cf. Section 8) -meta-registers - which shade into different metalanguages. The chapters in this book contribute to different aspects of register analysis, both linguistic and metalinguistic. Let me begin by briefly reviewing the theoretical origin of the notion of register as part of our metalanguage for construing language.

De Beaugrande (this volume) notes that Firth's notion of restricted languages is a forerunner of the notion of register. We can also relate register to a fundamental aspect of Firthian theory de Beaugrande does not

• This chapter owes its existence to Mohsen Ghadessy's encouragement to write it and I'm very grateful for the opportunity to bring together various perspectives on register. I'm also greatly indebted to Michael Halliday for comments on a draft version.

usuario

Text Box

220 MARILYN CROSS

ter Meulen, A. (1988), 'Linguistics and the Philosophy of Language', in Linguistics: the Cambridge Survey, pp. 430-446, F. Newmeyer (ed.), Cambridge, Mass: Cambridge University Press.

Miller, G.A. (1985), 'Dictionaries of the Mind', Proceedings 23rd Annual Meeting of Association for Computational Linguistics, Chicago, University of Chicago, 305-314.

Nirenburg, S. and Nirenburg I. (1988), 'A Framework for Lexical Selection in Natural Language Generation', Proceedings of the 12th International Conference on Computational Linguistics, Budapest, 471-475.

Nirenburg, S. and Raskin V. (1987), 'The Subworld Concept Lexicon and the Lexicon Management System', Computational Linguistics 13, 276-289.

Patten, R. (1988), Systemic Text Generation as Problem Solving, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Pazienza, M.T. and Velardi P. (1987), 'A Structured Representation of WordSenses for Semantic Analysis', Proceedings 3rd International Conference on Computational Linguistics, Copenhagen, 249-257.

Pustejovsky, J. and Nirenburg S. (1987), 'Lexical Selection in the Process of Text Generation', Proceedings 25th Annual Meeting of Association for Computational Linguistics, Stanford, 201-206.

Ritchie, G.D., Pulman S.G. Black A.W., Russell G.J. (1987), 'A Computational Framework for Lexical Description', Computational Linguistics 13, 290-307.

de Saussure, F. (1906-1911), Course in General Linguistics. Translated by R. Harris 1983. London: Duckworth.

Small, S.L., Cottrell G.W. and Tanenhaus M.K. (1988), Lexical Ambiguity Resolution: Perspectives from Psycholinguistics, Neuropsychology and Artificial Intelligence, San Mateo: Morgan Kaufmann: \

Tucker, G.H. and Fawcett R.P. (1991), Modelling Lexis in a Computational SystemicFunctional Grammar, Draft Paper.

Velardi, P., and Pazienza M.T. (1989), 'Computer Aided Interpretation of Lexical Cooccurrences', Proceedings of 27th Annual Meeting of the Association for Computational Linguistics, 185-192.

Wilks, Y., Fass D., Guo C., McDonald J.E., Plate T. and Slator B.M. (1988), 'Machine Tractable Dictionaries as Tools and Resources for Natural Language Processing', Proceedings of the 12th International Conference on Computational Linguistics, Budapest, 750-755.

Wilks, Y., Fass D., Guo C., McDonald J.E., Plate T. and Slator B.M. (1989), 'A Tractable Machine Dictionary as Resource for Computational Semantics', in Computational Lexicography for Natural Language Processing, pp. 193-228, B. Boguraev and T. Briscoe (eds), London: Longman.


11 Register in the round: diversity In a unified theory of register analysis * Christian Matthiessen

1. Register in its own right

Register analysis is not subsumed under any of the new types of analysis that have been established in general linguistics in the last thirty years or so - discourse analysis, conversational analysis or ethnographic analysis -because 'J:~gister' is not a 'component' of discourse, conversation, ethnographic setting or any other similar construct; it is an aspect of a separate dimension of organization, that of functional variation. Like any other theoretical abstraction - discourse, word, structure, lexical item -register is not a separate 'thing' that can be insulated from the rest of the linguistic system and process; but we can foreground it in register analysis as one way into the complex of language in context.

Register analysis is both a ,linguistic and a metalinguistic activity. It is something we engage in linguistically as language users - we interpret texts in terms of the registers they instantiate and we also produce texts as instances of particular register types. As linguists, we have to engage in register analysis metalinguistically to interpret 'register' theoretically and to produce and evaluate descriptions of registers in terms of the theoretical potential of the metalanguage. But since the metalanguage we use as lin~ists is itself a semiotic system, it too has registers (cf. Section 8) -meta-registers - which shade into different metalanguages. The chapters in this book contribute to different aspects of register analysis, both linguistic and metalinguistic. Let me begin by briefly reviewing the theoretical origin of the notion of r~gister as part of our metalanguage for construing language.

De Beaugrande (this volume) notes that Firth's notion of restricted languages is a forerunner of the notion of register . We can also relate register to ~ fundamental aspect of Firthian theory de Beaugrande does not

• This chapter owes its .existence to Mohsen Ghadessy's encouragement to write it and I'm very grateful for the opportunity to bring together various perspectives on register. I'm also greatly indebted to Michael Halliday for comments on a draft version.

222

monosystemic

o l1Wn!r

Figure 11.1

CHRISTIAN MATTHIESSEN

varieties of single system -register variation etc.

polysystemic - restricted languages etc.

poly-

language in context

language out of context

The move from mono systemic thesis to synthesis of varieties of system

mention, viz. Firth's polysystemicness. It has been held at various points in linguistic history that language is mono systemic - one system where everything hangs together as Saussure's follower Meillet put it. Firth disagreed fundamentally with this type of monolithic view and argued for a poly systemic approach, where language is interpreted as a system of systems. (In fact, Firth didn't like the abstraction of 'a language'.) The polystemic principle is evident at various places in his theorizing, e.g. in Firthian system and structure phonology where phonological systems have places of structure as their points of origin. Firth had taken over the notion of context developed by Malinowski (e.g., 1923) and when 'context of situation' and 'polysystemicness' are combined, then it is theoretically reasonable to assume some sense of different systems of languages for systemically different contexts. The Firthian notion of restricted

REGISTER IN THE ROUND 223

languages is thus arguably a natural consequence of his contextualism and polysystemicness.

To idealize. the picture, we can interpret the development of current register theory as a dialectic sequence (see Figure 11.1, where a circle represents a linguistic system). The thesis is that language is mono systemic - this was certainly the position Firth reacted against and, as de Beaugrande points out, it seems to be the default in mainstream work. For instance, phonological systems have tended to be interpreted mono systemically in the American Structuralist-generativist tradition (although not necessarily any longer: cf. Henderson 1987, on this in relation to Firth) and mainstream typological work does not tend to take registers into account. Here language is decontextualized: there is no provision in the theory for a contextual system nor for a way of relating context to language. Consequently, language is modelled as a system that is insulated from contextual pressures for diversity. 1 The antithesis is Firthian polystemicness just discussed above, with restricted languages as the seed for systemic register theory. The uniformity of a single global system is replaced by the diversity of a plurality of more local systems. The synthesis is register theory in systemic linguistics -' a theory of functional variation of the general system correlated with contextual variation. Part of the challenge it faced was to strike a balance between uniformity and diversity. Register theory has to be a general theory of the special case, showing how special cases are related to the general case, i.e. showing how diverse particular systems are varieties of a more general one. The limiting case is still, of course, the situation where there is no general system.

Sy.~t~llli(>fuIlctional register theg!y_~o,!l~"" said t() __ oEKi!!at~}XitQ_I::I,!!!ig1!YL~'":ta.:s:intosh and St:revens (1964)."This earIy wo-rk drew not only o~ Firth but --also on worKiritlie1950s by U re, Ellis, Berg, and others. It includes the interpretation of register in terms of variation within the linguistic system according to different contexts of situation. In this period, Spencer and Gregory (1964) and in particular Gregory (1967) were also very influential. Gregory's work sorted out different kinds of differentiation very clearly. Since then, the theory has been extended: it has become possible to place more emphasis on the semantic system (e.g., Halliday 1973) and to identify the correlation between context and language much more precisely thanks to the theory of metafunctions of language which developed in the 19608 after, and independently of, the original statement of register theory (e.g., Halliday 1978; Halliday and Hasan 1985/9). More work has also been done on the probabilistic interpretation of the linguistic system (in particular, Nesbitt and Plum 1988; Halliday 1991c; Halliday and James, 1991) so that we can begin to explore registers in terms of settings of systemic probabilities (see further Section 3.2.2 below). At the same time, alternative ways of modelling variation have been explored; alongside the version developed by Halliday, Hasan and others, Martin and others have developed a stratifying model, often referred to as the genre model. I will return to the difference between these two varieties in Section 2.3 below. The existence of these tw.o models also underlines

224 CHRISTIAN MA TTHIESSEN

another important issue: the notion of 'register' is not an isolated 'thing'; it is a theoretical construct that is meaningful relative to the overall theory It is pari: of. As the systemic-functional theory' of language in context has' expanded since the early 1960s, so 'register' has been recontextualized. For instance, now that ideology is beginning to be covered more explicitly by the theory it is becoming possible to relate register to ideology (cf. de Beaugrande, this volume: Section 4; Hunston, this volume; Martin et al. 1988) for instance in terms of differential access to registers and their different social values (see further Section 3.1.2 below). This does not in itself mean that register has changed or has to change - merely that its context has expanded as the overall model has expanded so that it is possible to work out theoretical consequences in new domains. In theories such as the glossematic, stratificational and systemic ones, theoretical constructs derive their significance from their placement relative to other constructs.

There has, then, been considerable theoretical development of register theory since the early 1960s. And it has taken place in interaction with ongoing descriptive work. One might conclude, as de Beaugrande does, that there is a bias towards practical-descriptive research over theoretical interpretation and that 'register' needs more theory. In contrast, I would be inclined to emphasize the need for extensive and detailed descriptions of registers: we now have the theoretical resources for undertaking such studies and also the computational tools (up to a point, as always: we still urgently need to bring parsers to bear on large quantities of text). At the same time, theory and description develop in interaction and further, extensive descriptive work will create new demands on theory and a number of theoretical issues can only be settled with a broader descriptive base.

The chapters in this book make various valuable contributions towards the development" of our theoretical and descriptive uO:derstanding of 'register'. They are grouped under five headings - practice and theory, controlling and changing ideologies, the role of metaphor: grammatical and lexical, quantitative evidence for register analysis; and computer applications - which range particular critical aspects of the linguistic system in relation to register (grammatical metaphor; ideology) to general issues of theory, application and methodology. In this final chapter, I shall try to relate to the other contributions in another, complementary way be relating register to the general systemic-functional theory of language in context and the dimensions that define the semiotic space of language. I shall identify the points that are developed, illustrated and challenged in this present book in particular but also more generally in key contributions to register analysis such as Ghadessy (1988).

Recognition of register outside systemic1unctional linguistics

Since the orientation in my discussion is systemic-functional, it is worth emphasizing related work in other traditions. De Beaugrande (this volume)


discusses Tagmemic work. We can also note other developments par~lel to the Malinowski-Firth-Halliday tradition. The Prague School pioneered work on functional dialect and the emergence of the differentiation between the standard language and other varieties (e.g. in terms of intellectualization) - e.g. Havranek (1932). Hjelmslev (1943) opened up important possibilities for the interpretation of variants within the linguistic system when he proposed the notion of konnotationssprog - a semiotic whose expression system is another semiotic system, These possibilities were taken up by Martin (e.g., 1985) in a systemic alternative to the Halliday-Hasan register model (see Section 2.3). In the Soviet Union, Bakhtin (1986) also developed a notion of functional varieties, which he called speech genres. It has influenced genre theory within social semiotics. Within computational linguistics rather than linguistics, functional variety has come to be recognized under the heading of sublanguage (see Kitteredge and Lehrberger 1981; Kitteredge 1983). 'Sublanguage' has played a role in particular in machine translation. While the task of translating text in general is dauntingly complex, the task of translating weather forecasts, technical documentation within a particular field, and the like can be manageable.

2. The semiotic space in which register is located

Registers reflect one fundamental aspect of the overall organization of language in context. To explore register and register variation further, it will be useful to review the dimensions of this overall organization: see Figure 11. 2. This will make it possible to explore different ways of interpreting registers theoretically and also to specify the theoretical significance they derive from the location in the overall theory. The language in context complex is organized globally along the dimensions of stratification (orders of symbolic abstraction related by realization), metafu.nctional diversification (modes of meaning), and potentiality (the dimension from potential to instantialthrough instantiation - from system to text; not shown in the diagram). This yields a set of stratal subsystems - context and, within language, semantics, lexicogrammar, and phonology/ graphology. Each stratal subsystem manifests the same basic dimensions of organization - axis, delicacy and rank. I will call this organization 'fractal' simply because it constitutes the basic principle of intra-stratal organization that is manifested in different stratal environments.

Let us start with the global dimensions of organization in Section 2.1 and then turn to those that are local to each stratal subsystem, the fractal ones, in Section 2.2. These dimensions determine the overall semiotic space of language in context - the universe of meaning. The important question we can then ask. is how register expands or constrains the space - Section 2.3.


(j) global organization

metafuJlcliUlltll d i versi fi ca t iun

(iD fractal organization

(manifestation of fundamental intra-stratal organization in different stratal environments)

Figure 11.2 Global and fracta! dimensions of organization

2.1 The global dimensions

The global dimensions are stratification (Section 2.1.1), metafunctional diversification (Section 2.1. 2), and potentiality (Section 2.1. 3).

2.1.1 Stratification Language in context is interpreted as a system of systems ordered in symbolic abstraction. That is, these systems are stratified. Each system has its own internal organization (see Section 2.2) but it is related to other systems in a realizational chain: it realizes a higher system (unless it is the highest system) and it is realized by a lower one (unless it is the lowest system). This chain of inter-stratal realizations bridges the gap between the semiotic in high-level cultural meanings and the material, either in speaking or in writing, through a series of intermediate strata. We can draw a basic stratal line between context and language and other semiotic systems that are embedded in it: see Figure 11.3. As far as the recognition and interpretation of register are concerned, it is, or course, critical that language is interpreted 'within' context. (i) Context covers both context of situation and context of culture (for the relationship between the two, see Sections 3.1.2 and 6). However it is organized, it is clear that context is the locus of the significance or value given to registers. Right at the beginning of work on register, context of situation was the place where a register's contextual significance was stated in terms of field, tenor, and mode values; and in Martin's work it has been


semantics

Figure 11.3 Stratification of language in context

further stratified to include genre as one 'plane' (see Section 2.3 below). (ii) Language is a stratified semiotic system 'embedded' in context. It is typically interpreted as tristratal in systemic theory - [discourse] semantics, lexicogrammar, and phonology (I graphology). Semantics and lexicogrammar together form the two content strata of language. They stand in a natural relationship to one another (Halliday, 1985a), which is important to remember when we embark on interpretations of 'register' (see Section 4) and descriptions of registers (see Section 7.1). The system of expression (phonology or graphology) is, in contrast, largely conventional relative to lexicogrammar.

Semantics is the linguistic inter-level to context; it is the way into the linguistic system where context can be semanticized (see Halliday, 1973). Since semantics has the status of inter-level, it is the linguistic system that

228 CHRISTIAN MATTHIESSEN

has the primary responsibility for accommodating varying contextual demands on language: one possible reflection of this is the emergence of semantic systems specific to particular contexts of situation, a poly systemic semantics - semantic systems representing different registers (see Section 4.1 below). It is also important to note that the basic semantic unit is language functioning in context or text (e.g., Halliday and Hasan 1976) - not a unit such as a predication or proposition derived from the grammar (as in formal semantics). Consequently, it is theoretically very clear that registers are not bound to the units of grammar; they are semantically pervasive from the macro (whole texts) to the micro (semantic units directly realized by lexicogrammatical ones).

Lexicogrammar is the resource for wording meanings, for realizing meanings in terms of grammatical structures and lexical items. Relative to semantics, it can be seen as a more highly generalized system of content: it is at one remove from context and the contextual diversification that is the source of different registers. Semantics will, among other things, mediate between contextual diversity and lexicogrammatical generalization. At the same time, since lexicogrammar is semantically natural, the two content strata provide us with different stratal angles on registers - we can move in either from semantics or from lexicogrammar (see Sections 4 and 7.1 below). Lexicogrammar comprises both grammar and lexis - lexis is interpreted as most delicate grammar (from Halliday 1961, onwards; see Cross, this volume). This poses interesting issues for register analysis particularly since computational tools for analyzing the large text samples typically needed to characterize registers are more accessible for lexis (cf. Section 7.2 below). It also makes it theoretically very clear that any grammatical variation across registers (e.g., variation in favoured process types) will be manifested more delicately as lexical variation and that· lexical variation often derives from grammatical variation.

Text is, as noted, the basic semantic unit of a functional theory of language - language functioning in context. But in a stratal theory, the multistratal implications are very clear: a text is a multi-strata! process in the sense that it is contextualized, i.e. it is also a process of contextual choices, and it is worded, i.e. it is also a process of lexicogrammatical choices.

2.1.2 Functional diversification Both context of situation and the content strata of language, semantics and lexicogrammar, are functionally diversified: that is, there are different modes of contextual and linguistic meaning. The contextual modes - field, tenor, and mode (to use the current set of terms) - were identified first, discussed in Halliday, Macintosh and Strevens (1964). (They represent a re-interpretation of Firth's, 1957, scheme.) Having embarked on a systemic description of English, Halliday discovered that systems formed three clusters and, to explain this phenomenon, he set up the three metafunctions of systemic-functional theory - ideational, interpersonal, and textual (Halliday 1967/8; 1978; 1985a). He then found that there were


correlations between context of situation and language along the lines of the functional diversification: field and the ideational metafunction correlate, tenor and the interpersonal one, and mode and the textual one (Halliday 1978).

Like language, a functional variety of language, a register, is multifunctional - any register is simultaneously ideational, interpersonal, and textual. And Halliday's finding means that it is possible to identify which aspects of context of situation will influence and be influenced by which aspects of a register: the ideational resources of a register construe a field, the interpersonal ones a tenor, and the textual ones a mode (see Halliday 1978; Halliday and Hasan 1985; Martin, in press). The mode distinction between written and spoken clearly correlates with textual systems such as THEME, ELLIPSIS/SUBSTITUTION, pnd CONJUNCTION; but it is also realized somewhat more indirectly to achieve different types of 'information chunking' - lexical density (Ure 1971; Halliday 1985b), deployment of CLAUSE COMPLEXING and grammatical metaphor (Halliday 1985b).

As far as the overall staging of texts- within a register is concerned, all three contextual aspects are likely to play a role. But they tend towards different modes of syntagmatic organization: see e.g. Martin (1992) on tenor-oriented interpersonal prosodies running through a text contrasting with more segmental field-oriented organization realized through ideational resources.

2.1.3 Potentiality Stratification and functional diversification give the semiotic space height and breadth, as it were; potentiality introduces a kind of time to give us a semiotic space-time. As it has been described up to now, the language-incontext complex is an atemporal resource: it is simply a specification of information that can be processed in different ways. This is the contextual and linguistic potential - what can be meant as Halliday (1973; 1977) puts it. 2 It is neutral with respect to generation, understanding or any other process using the resources: the potential is instantiated (or actualized) by different processes - from what can be meant, various options are actually meant. The two major types of instantiation are generation and understanding (analysis). They instantiate the same potential and the result is an instance from the potential. Language functioning in context, text, can be :¥: viewed either as a process, unfolding as an instantiation of the potential, or as a product, a completed instantiation of the system.

In a general account of language, all three phases have to be in view -potential, instantiation, and instance - although linguists have tended to focus either on the potential or the instantial, leaving processes of instantiation to computational linguists (cf. Matthiessen and Bateman 1991, for issues of instantiation). I will address the significance of potentiality to register analysis in Section 6.1 below. But a very central point is that as a variety of language, a register embodies all three phases of potentiality; and this is, among other things, the key to the role of text in instantiating and changing a register system. Along the way to Section 6.1, I will take


up the role of probabilities in the potential in register analysis (Section 3.2.2 (i» and instantiation in the history of a text (Section 5.1).

2.2 The fractal dimensions

The global dimensions place the strata, metafunctions, and phases of potentiality relative to one another and show how they interact. In addition, each stratum is organized internally; it has intra-stratal organization. It would be perfectly possible that the fundamental dimensions of each stratum were quite distinct and this is the way they tended to emerge in generative linguistics although the picture is changing with approaches such as Pollard and Sag's (1987) Head-Driven Phrase Structure Grammar. However, in systemic-functional theory, the different strata have all been interpreted according to the same fundamental dimensions and the same is true of Lamb's stratificational theory and represe'ntation. There is one generalized intra-stratal organization, which is manifested in different stratal environments; this organization is what I call fractal. This is not to say that the strata are identical in their internal organization - there are certainly differences (such as the possibility of rank shift), but they are to be seen against the background of the general principles of intra-stratal organization.

The fractal dimensions are axis (paradigmaticlsyntagmatic), delicacy and rank. They are well-known and do not need any general comments. But I will comment briefly on their significance for register. Axially, paradigmatic organization is primary, represented by the system network, where systemic options provide the environment for syntagmatic specifications. This is absolutely crucial to the interpretation of register since it means that register has to be interpreted in systemic terms - as variation in the system - which we arrive at through syntagmatic analysis (e.g., analysis of grammatical structures, grammatical items, and lexical items). :/( It also has other consequences, such as the possibility of specifying a register in terms of systemic probabilities (see Section 3.2.2 (i».3

The primacy of paradigmatic organization also opens up the possibility of integrating another dimension - delicacy. This is the ordering of systems in the system network from most general to most specific. This is also of fundamental importance to the interpretation of register since it means that registers can relate to the general system in terms of delicacy (cf. Section 3.2.2 (ii) below) and that we can characterize registers at

-\V, various de~rees of delicacy. (cf. Section 7.1 beIO\~).Further, it. is the key 1\ to the'relatlOn between leXIS and grammar - leXIS as most dehcate gram

mar, already mentioned above: see Cross (this volume). As far as rank is concerned, there are two important points (i) Just as

a register spans the other dimensions of organization, it spans rank. In particular it is worth noting that it is semantically pervasive from the macro to the micro (cf. Leckie-Tarry, this volume). (ii) The grammatical and phonological rank scales are clearly generalized but it seems quite likely that different registers, or different families of registers, operate with


different semantic rank scale of the type posited by Sinclair and Coulthard (1975) for class-room discourse: see Sections 3.2.2 (iii) and 4.2 below.

2.3 Construing register - theoretical alternatives: registerial variation vs. genre plane

We have seen, then, what the overall semiotic space of language in context is like from a systemic-functional point of view. How does register fit in? Leckie-Tarry (this volume) provides a discussion of register and genre and the different theoretical positions they represent but I will review the positions specifically relative to the overall theoretical space in the hope that this will further illuminate the positions. Having considered the dimensions that defined the 'theoretical space' we use to construe language in context, we can now explore alternative ways of construing register. For instance, we can ask whether register is located stratally, axially, etc. relative to the theoretical interpretation of the linguistic system 'presented so far. However register is construed theoretically, it seems quite clear that it is an aspect , of a mode of organization that expands the overall semiotic space: that

. mode of organization is a new way of making meanings by giving contextual value ~

to variation in the linguistic system. That is, in addition to the system itself being used to make meaning, variations in the system also create meaning.)t At the same time, each register embodies a kind of constraint on what meanings are likely to be made. But there is nothing contradictory in this: the stratification of content into semantics and lexicogrammar is significant expansion of the overall meaning-making potential but at the same time. the semantics constrains the lexicogrammar in terms of what are likely *meanings. Registerial constraints embody information - information about diversification across different contexts and information carried by the system itself.

So how can the expansion of the overall semiotic space be accounted for? Within systemic linguistics, there have, in fact, been two approaches to modelling 'register' (see Figure 11.4):

(i) Register is interpreted in terms of a separate dimension of variation within the system - functional variation or register variation (Halliday, Macintosh and Strevens 1964; Hasan 1973; Halliday 1978; Halliday and Hasan 1985). Register is thus a name of a kind of variation. (cf. dialect as a mass term). The notion of variation is primary. A 'register' is then a(n idealized) location along this dimension, just as a synchronic system is a location along the dimension of diachronic change (phylogenesis) or a dialect is a location along the dimension of dialectal variation. But a 'register' is not, in the first instance, located anywhere in particular in language along other dimensions although there are principled tendencies - it is a variety of language, not a part of it .. Language is then the assemblage of locations along the dimension of register variation. 4

(ii) Register is interpreted in terms of the dimension of stratification in


(ii)

functional variation

register 3

register 1

Figure 11.4 Register as state in functional variation or as connotative semiotic

its manifestation of 'planing' (due to Martin 1985, in press, etc.). More specifically, it is interpreted as a 'plane' above language that is the content system whose expression system is context of situation, which itself is taken as the content system whose expression is language (see Figure 1 in Leckie-Tarry's chapter for more detail and another type of diagram). The critical theoretical source here is Hjelmslev's (1943) notion of konnotationssprog - a semiotic system whose expression plane is another semiotic system. Importantly, registers are interpreted as social actions for achieving social purposes.

Alternative (i) was the first position to be developed within systemic linguistics. In developing alternative (ii), Martin built on this position but he used stratification within context relative to language to model register variation: lower-stratal linguistic variation is modelled systemically (i.e., as a network of inter-related choices) at a higher contextual stratum specifying the register potential of a language. This is one prominent example of the kind of flexibility Halliday (1980) points out characterizes systemic theory; it is a 'flexi-model', where it is possible to play off different dimensions against one another. But the two positions are genuinely alternative ways of modelling register; they are not part of the total picture intended to be combined. However, there is no a priori reason why they can't be interpreted as complementarities.

Alternative (i) has often been called the register model and alternative (ii) the genre model. However, there is potential terminological confusion at this point since register and genre have been used in different ways by proponents of the two models. The differences are set out in Table iLl.

Martin thus renamed 'context of situation' register and introduced genre as a new theoretical term. 5 It is important to note that genre is not a separate theoretical term in alternative (i). One reason the term was

REGISTER IN THE ROUND

Table 11.1

register

genre

Alternative (i) - Halliday & Hasan

functional variation of language [no direct equivalent in (ii)J - a register is a 'location' along this dimension of variation

not a theoretical term; either synonymous with register or used in its more traditional sense within literary studies

Alternative (ii) - Martin

first plane above language [= context of situation in (i)J

second plane above language [no direct equivalent in (i)J

233

avoided early on was simply that its traditional sense was far too narrow and associated with literary varieties. Halliday (1978) indicates how this traditional term can be interpreted according to systemic-functional theory but this should not be read as an attempt to set up genre as a systemic term alongside register. .

There are, of course, yet other ways of using the terms. For instance, Leckie-Tarry (this volume) notes that genre may be used to characterize a whole text whereas register 'is frequently used to refer to sections within a text which are characterized by certain linguistic forms'. If the difference is only one of scale, it would seem better to talk about e.g. genres and macro-genres (cf. Martin 1991).

There are also, of course, yet other terms. The Prague School termfunctional dialect was mentioned in Section 1 above, as was the computational linguistic term sublanguage. The former makes the analogy with dialect transparent. Sometimes terms such as text/discourse type, text/discourse typology are used or are used to gloss genre or register. While these terms have the advantage that they draw attention to the fact that register variation has text as its scope they have the drawback that they focus only on (semantic) units in the process of communication but register variation is also systemic - a property of the linguistic potential.

As far as the recognition of particular types of register or genre is concerned, it is important to note that there is (as in so many other areas of language) a more or less elaborated folk theory, which includes names for various types such as memos, telegrams, romances. However, we cannot assume that these can automatically be taken over into a linguistic account of types of register. Martin (p.c.) has observed that folk genres tend to be biased towards mode - towards easily observable overt format, etc. (this is a general feature of folk taxonomies in contrast to scientific taxonomies, which are often based on more covert criteria: cf. Wignell et al. 1987.) Thus, apart from any other short-comings, the folk notion of genre tends to be functionally imbalanced and there is no a priori reason


why we should take it as our point of departure in developing an account of register types. 6

In what follows, it will only be possible to follow through one alternative systematically and I will use alternative (i) since it raises various issues about variation as an independent theoretical dimension that are important in the context of this book. A number of findings from one alternative can be re-interpreted in terms of the other and I will do so where appropriate. The genre model has been tremendously influential and been used in many studies, in particular in educational linguistics and social semiotics. The most recent summary of the model can be found in Martin (in press). It is reviewed critically in Hasan (in press) from the point of view of her theoretical position and the discussion will be continued from the genre model's point of view. Since the topic of this book is variation in language and a number of contributions demonstrate the value of this variation, it will be very clear that variation in metalanguage is equally valuable (cf. further Section 8). In fact it is crucial, since the existence of different varieties of systemic-functional theory clarifies the overall theoretical space.

3. Register variation

Let us explore, then, the interpretation of register as a state of the linguistic system along the dimension of functional variation, or, as it has also been called, diatypic variation. The variation is the primary theoretical abstraction - the recognition that the system is functionally variable - and the notion of 'register' is a convenient secondary idealization - just as a dialect and a synchronic system are. In fact, register is explicitly grouped with other kinds of variation on the systemic theme (cf. Gregory 1967; Gregory and Carol 1978; Hasan 1973; Halliday 1978) -dialectal (including sociolectel) and historical. (We will return to history in Section 5: there are at least three types of history to take into account.) This is important as it invites us to explore common ways of modelling varieties and to generalize insights gained with one type of variation (cf. Section 3.2.2 (ii) below). Register variation is compared with codal variation and dialectal variation in Figure 11.5, which is based on Halliday's characterization of these types of variation according to the existence and location of a higher-level constant in relation to which there is variation.

What is specific about register variation? The answer given by Halliday (e.g., 1978) has two interconnected parts, relating to (i) contextual role and (ii) domain of variation within the linguistic system:

(i) Upwards: in contrast to other types of variation, register variation has no higher-level constant. Its higher-stratal significance pertains precisely to diversification in context of situation - to selections within field, tenor and mode. That is, the function of register variation is contex-

~ tual, in the sense of context of situation. (In contrast, dialectal variation has a higher-level constant within language and is a realization of the social structure of a culture).


(ii! higher-level C01'lstallt

235

context

(i) no higher-level 'constant

language

Figure 11.5 Different types of variation according to presence and location of constant

(ii) Within the linguistic system: since the function of register variation is contextual, that linguistic stratum which is the interface to the context of situation is implicated in the first instance - that is, semantics. In other words, registerial variation is semantic variation in the first instance. In contrast, Halliday (1978) suggests, dialectal variation primarily affects the lower strata of lexicogrammar and phonology . However, Hasan's (e.g., 1990) research has shown that semantic varia- * tion may be codal (cf. Halliday 1991a): the difference from register variation is that there is a higher-level constant outside language.

Let us begin with the contextual role of register variation and then turn to the variation itself within the linguistic system.

3.1 Contextual roli of register variation

We can interpret register variation as the linguistic system's response to pressures from above, from the diversity of contexts of communication: language has to accommodate this diversity and it does so by varying itself.


That is, the diversity of contextual demands engenders register variation. But as always with characterizations of inter-stratal relations, we have to remember that the relation is dialectal: register variation also construes contextual diversity.

3.1.1 Context oj situation Contextual demands can be characterized in terms of recurrent contexts of, situation - that is, situation types that have become part of a culture.-\.( Selections from context of situation are realized by register variation and in this respect the realizational relation differs from that between lexicogrammar and semantics. The semantic system is realized by the lexicogrammatical one but context of situation is realized not directly by the linguistic system but by variation in the linguistic system. So a contextual choice is a meta-choice relative to the linguistic system not only in the general sense of a stratal move up (where semantics might be viewed as meta-grammar) but also in the sense that it is a choice between varieties of the linguistic system .

. Situation types are intersections of different field, tenor and mode values - what Hasan (1985) calls contextual configurations (CCs), Each context of situation corresponds to a location along the dimension of register variation - that is, to a register. 7 So a given combination of field, tenor and mode (a CC) corresponds to a particular register: see Figure 11.6. The values are selections from field, tenor and mode networks. This means that we can state the values at variable degrees of delicacy so we can give whole 'families' of registers, subfamilies or single registers contextual values depending on the degree of delicacy we select within context. For instance, we can group recipes, car repair instructions, and furniture assembly instructions into a family of procedural registers. Contextually, these may all be similar in tenor and mode but they will certainly vary in field. Or, to take another example, in characterizing scientific English as a generalized register, Halliday (1988: 162) uses very general, indelicate field, tenor and mode values: 'in field, extending, transmitting or exploring knowledge in the physical, biological or social sciences; in tenor, addressed to specialists, learners or laymen, from within the same group (e.g. specialist to specialist) or across groups (e.g. lecturer to students); and III

mode, phonic or graphic channel, most incongruent (e.g. formal "written language" with graphic channel) or less so (e.g. formal with phonic channel), and with variation in rhetorical function - expository, hortatory, polemic, imaginative and so on.'

The contextual characterization of a register is very important since it specifies the register's higher-level significance - it is important not just to take over existing categories glossed in simple terms such as the language of a particular activity or discipline or form of publication. These categories tend to be too crude and heterogeneous. There are examples of careful descriptions in e.g. Halliday and Hasan (1985) and Halliday (1978) but this is one area where we need a good deal more descriptive experience to establish descriptive categories that can be re-used and expanded -


",., register 3

P pP register 2

register 1

Figure 11.6 Contexts of situation characterized by ecs and corresponding registers

~ompar~ble to the descriptive categories we now have for the grammar (as III Halhday 1985a). Ghadessy (this volume) offers a detailed commentary on the field, tenor and mode of contexts of situation in which business communication occurs. See also Section 7.1.

Context of situation is characterized by the fractal dimensions of organization (see Section 2.2 above) just like any other stratal system. It is both paradigmatically and syntagmatically organized - it has system as well as structure. It has generally been assumed that different situation types are characterized by different structural configurations, different gene.ric structures. Such structures unfold over time so they are staged; mOVIllg from one stage to another means moving from one logo genetic state to another in the instantiation of a context of situation (cf. Section 5.1 below and see further Q'Donnell, Matthiessen and Sefton 1991 - for a general discussion of the dynamics of context, see Hasan 1981). The different stages may be realized by language alone, by a balanced mixture of language and non-symbolic behaviour, or mainly by non-symbolic behaviour. And semiotic systems other than language may also be involved. The division of labour depends on selections within context of


situation. The limiting case of context of situation being realized by register variation is thus variation in type of social system - either from language to another semiotic system or from a semiotic one to a nonsemiotic one (i.e., one that is primarily non-symbolic rather than symbolic even if it has secondary interpretations). 8 Historically, it is even possible to get a sense of how designed semiotic systems have taken over from specialist registers - cf. Section 5.3 below.

Situation types are thus structured but it also seems highly likely that they may be ranked. Sinclair and Coulthard's (1975) work on lessons in class room interaction would be an example of this and Steiner's (1988) work on activity in general demonstrates the existence of ranking. Any ranking of situation types would be reflected in the semantic system of the relevant register: see further Sections 3.2.2 and 4.2.

3.1.2 Beyond context oj situation Context of situation is the most immediate aspect of the general context in which the linguistic system is embedded and it is the system in which a register is given its contextual significance in the first instance. But context of situation is only one aspect of the overall social context in which language is 'embedded': to put this in Malinowski's terms, we also have to take account of the context of culture. The critical question is how to model the relationship between context of culture and context of situation. 9We can look at this from the point of view of the dimensions of systemic-functional theory; there are at least three possible dimensions:

(i)

(ii)

(iii)

context of culture might be related to context of situation in terms of rank - a relationship of scale, a macro to micro relationship where a culture consists of situation types. context of culture might be related to context of situation in terms of stratification - a relationship of abstract, a met a-relationship where a culture is realized by situation types. context of culture might be related to context of situation in terms of longterm potentiality - a relationship of observer's time-depth where a culture is a generalization across situation types.

(i) The relationship is perhaps most often discussed in rank-like terms. From a sociological point of view context of situation is the microperspective of daily dialogic encounters, written exchanges; and so on rather than the macro-perspective of broad social organization into classes, castes, genders, age groups, etc. and one interesting question is whether and how the contextual significance of register extends from the micro to the macro. It is certainly one that has faced ethnomethodologists in general and conversational analysists in particular since their concerns with the micro have left a gap to the macro concerns of more mainstream sociology. If conversational analysts could bridge the gap, their work would be legitimized from a mainstream point of view but they have tended to be very cautious here. Schegloff and others (e.g. at a CA workshop at UCSB


in the mid 1980s) have argued that the macro-categories cannot necessarily be taken for granted and that it is premature to try to link up the microanalysis with a priori macro categories instead of showing how macro categories are brought into existence in the micro of daily life. This problem is highly relevant to register analysis since it relates directly to the question of contextual significance beyond the context of situation. 10

Within systemic theory, the relationship between context of situation and contexts of culture has been explored in rather different terms (elaborating rather than extending according to the different types of expansion identified by Halliday, 1985a): the two theoretical positions are (ii) and (iii) identified above.

(ii) Context may be modelled as stratified into two or more planes. This is the model developed and used by Jim Martin and others, already referred to under (ii) in Section 2.3 above." The contextual planes are ideology, genre, and 'register' (in the sense of context of situation; see Martin 1986 for pioneering the construal of ideology in systemic theory): ideology is realized by genre, which is in turn realized by 'register', which is in turn realized by language. This model thus provides us with a way of interpreting the ideological significance of a particular register (in the sense of functional variety) or point of register variation. Ideology is interpreted as a connotative semiotic whose realization is genre; it captures, among other things, the distribution of genres according to the division of labour in a culture.

One general point Hunston's (this volume) chapter raises is that particular registers have higher-level ideological significance and their ideological role constrains how meanings are made e.g. by marshalling the metaphorical mode to achieve an interpersonal distancing in the direction of implicitness and objectivity. Hunston explores evaluation in scientific writing. Evaluation is inherently intersubjective and essentially interpersonal but she shows how this angle is expressed implicitly and 'objectively' in her corpus of research articles - the evaluator tends not to be present in the discourse. This is achieved partly through interpersonal metaphor. While Hunston does not characterize her scientific register in terms of context of situation (field, tenor and mode), it seems very likely that we have to go beyond context of situation to account for the way evaluation works in the register. We have to take the ideology of the scientific community into account and this is precisely what she does. She shows that the ideology is such that evaluation has to be implicit and objective: doing science means among other things persuading fellow scientists (i.e., mode: persuasive) but one can't be seen to be doing this so the register has to accommodate this disjunction - it has to have resources of evaluation but it has to express them explicitly and distanced from the evaluator.

(iii) Context may be interpreted in terms of potentiality, ranging from the cultural potential to instantial situations with situation types of intermediate constructs. This is Halliday's approach in Halliday (1978) and, more explicitly, in Halliday (1991b). The contextual significance beyond context of situation would thus be interpreted in terms of more


longterm cultural patterns. I will return to this approach in Section 6. It is, of course, entirely possible that other kinds of dimensions are rele

vant in the interpretation of the relationship between context of culture and context of situation. But it seems important to explore the ones that have already been identified. I will not try to reconcile the three alternatives now - one obvious question is whether they are true alternatives or complementarities that account for different aspects of the relationship between context of culture and context of situation. It is worth noting, however, . that observer-perspective becomes critical: are we looking at langu~ge m context as outsiders, adopting the analyst's point of view (what we mIght call meta-subjectivity) or as interactants, adopting the perspective of those collaborating in semiotic processes (what we might call intersubjectivity?).

3.1.3 Register, person and personalities So far I've discussed the contextual significance of register from the perspective of the system - situational systems, cultural systems, etc. However, there is a complementary perspective: we can look at these phenomena from the point of view of users of the system - in the sense of persons and groups of persons. The system is what a person can do and any instance of selection from the system is what a person does. Consequently, we can construe a person in terms of his/her systemic potential and acts o.f selection from that potential. And this then also becomes a way of construmg persons as social roles in terms of variation within th~ overall system and of relating persons to groups, again in terms of variation. From this. point of view, the significance of a register relates to groups and the soc~al ~ol~s that make them up. On the one hand, it may be deployed in an mstItutIOnal group such as those doing science or busmess characterized b~ a particular ideology. On the other hand, it will be part of the repertOIre that shapes a person relative to various social groups. Let's consider institutional groups first.

Studies such as Hunston's investigation of the research article or Ghadessy's (this volume) study of business' communication focus on how ~ociocult~ral groups s~ch as a scientific community or a group entering mto busmess transactIOns deploy the resources of a register or set of registers. In deploying these resources, people take on social roles , " al'" h ' personae or person It1es suc as peer researcher, apprentice researcher, customer .. A lon~ time ago now, Firth (1950) established the centrality of language I~ creatmg persons and the clusters of personalities (social roles) that constItute them: 'The meaning of person in the sense of a man or woman ~epresented in fictitious dialogue, or as a character in a play, is relevant If we take a sociological view of the personae or parts we are called upon to play in the routine of life. Every social person is a bundle of personae, a bundle of parts, each having its lines .... The continuity of the person, the development of personality, are paralleled by the continuity and development of language in a variety of forms'. He also emphasized the ontogenetic perspective here. Halliday (e.g., 1975; 1978) has taken this


further, showing for example how the self is determined and negotiated in countless interactions starting with proto-Ianguage and how persons are constructed relative to the group through language. Trevarthen (e.g., 1987) has emphasized the importance of the development of intersubjectivity in these early interactions. Further, Hasan (1986) has shown how the young child may learn about an ideological position in learning about personalities in interaction with his/her mother. Birch (this volume) argues for a position similar to Firth's but draws on sources other then Firth Halliday and Hasan: 'A contemporary critical position argues that we ar; interpellated as subjects, rather than arguing that we are born with a unique and specific social and cultural identity . -We are constructed not just as a si~gle subject, but, in many different situations and contexts, as many dIfferent, multiple, subjects. This simple subjectivity is made possible only by discursive means - amongst them, language.' Firth, Halliday, Hasan, Birch and others show how persons/subjects as constellations of personalities or social roles are created through language in· dialogic interaction - how they are learned and negotiated as personae as Firth put it. We can see this in the history of a child and we can see this in the history; of a text: Birch shows with examples that Pinter's plays are good sources for studying the use of linguistic resources to negotiate personae. It is possible to show how different roles are enacted through the use of interpersonal resources in dialogue: the different roles are enacted as different locations within the overall interpersonal potential.

Given that language plays an important role here, what about variation within fanguage, more specifically registerial variation? Dialectal variation is a direct indication of a person's location in the social system (or perhaps more appropriately, a personality's location, since a person may take on different personalities in this respect - it is variation according to user -but registerial variation according to context of situation - variation according to use. However, part of the social system is the distribution of the contexts in which persons move and the registers associated with these contexts that they have access to, so registers reflect the division of labour within a society. To put this the other way around, persons have different registerial repertoires (the range of registers a person has learned to use in appropriate contexts) and their repertoires will help determine the range of contexts they can move in. (As we will see in Section 5.1, this seems very clear from an ontogenetic point of view: the child has to expand his/her registerial repertoire to gain access to new contexts.) In a dialogic context, this tan lead to imbalance. In commenting on an extract from a Pinter play, Birch writes: 'Pete can be performed as controlling Len by concentrating on the registerial differences of their language. . .. Exploiting the difference, therefore, between these two levels of linguistic skill means exploiting relations of control and power.' We can explore the possi~ility, then, that one source of difference between persons and the way they mteract and are positioned relative to one another lies in differences in registerial repertoires.

Hasan's (e.g., 1990) recent research has shown very clearly that


semantic variation in general is correlated with what we might interpret as different 'personalities', where differences run along lines of gender and class. Now, such differences are not specific registerial differences but rather general differences in coding orientation (in Bernstein's sense of code). But they are an important complement to our understanding of how registerial differences correlate differences in 'personality' or social role.

3.2 Variation in the linguistic system

Having considered the contextual significance of register briefly, let's now explore register variation as a dimension of the linguistic system.

3.2.1 Domains of variation Since register is interpreted in terms of an independent dimension of variation, it is not in the first instance located along any of the other dimensions that systemic theory identifies as constituting the overall semiotic space of language in context (as described in Sections 2.1 and 2.). For instance, the theory would not support equating a register with a particular technical vocabulary - it would include other aspects that are variable across context types such as generic structure and 'micro-semantic styles'. Similarly, the theory would not support equating a register with a particular macrostructure or generic structure potential of text - again, this is only one aspect and it leaves out the 'micro-semantic' realizations of the generic stages of a text, the nature of the semantic system, and so on. A register may be characterized by special lexicogrammatical features; it may even have phonological (cf. Halliday et al. 1964) or graphological characteristics.

However, the theory locates the source of variation in context and since the stratum of semantics is the linguistic 'interface' to context (Halliday 1973), we can expect that register variation is semantic variation in the first instance rather than e.g. phonological variation. Halliday (1978: 35) contrasts register variation and dialect variation in this respect (cf. Figure 11. 5 above). Now, if there is semantic variation, there also has to be lexicogrammatical variation since semantics and lexicogrammar are related naturally as the two content strata. (There does not, of course, have to be phonological or graphological variation since their relationship to lexicogrammar is largely conventional.) This still leaves open two possibilities with respect to the specification of variation within semantics and lexicogrammar: while there is one generalized lexicogrammatical system within which register-specific systems can be located, the semantics could be similar in this respect (i.e., mono systemic) or it might be diversified into separate register-specific systems (i.e., polysystemic). These possibilities will be taken up briefly in Section 3.2.2 (especially under (iii) and in more detail in Section 4.1.

3.2.2 Specification of variation We come now to a central question of the interpretation of register variation

minimal difference

(

(i) varied probabilities within the same system


(ii) core system with parli lions for varieties

243

maximal difference

:>

(ill) completely separate system varieties

Figure 11.7 From minimal to maximal difference and different modes of specification

I have not addressed yet. How is the variation to be specified? The other dimensions of the semiotic space of language in context discussed in Sections 2.1 and 2.2 all have clear forms of specification and representation. For instance, paradigmatic organization is represented by means of system networks and syntagmatic organization by means of realization statements resulting in function structures; inter-stratal realization is represented by means of preselect statements and metafunction by means of simultaneity in system networks and layering in function structures. As far as register variation - or any other form of variation for that matter - goes, there is less of an established convention. The question is not so much how to specify a single register since that is easy enough: we can specify it just as we would a linguistic system in general. Rather, the central question is how to represent the variation itself or, alternatively, how to represent a linguistic system as an 'assemblage' of registers. Here I can only make a few observations (leaving out a discussion of Labovian variation theory, for example) noting what has been done and suggesting a new approach that has not been applied to the account of register variation before (see (ii) below). The various issues concerning the


representation of mono systemic and poly systemic accounts in semantics are identified and explored by Caffarel (1990; 1991).

To simplify the task, I will assume that there are three possible interpretations of register variation (see Figure 11. 7): (i) each register is consistent with the general linguistic system, but with different systemic probabilities; (ii) each register is partially consistent with other registers so that there is a common core but there are also mutually inconsistent subsystems; and (iii) each register is essentially inconsistent with other registers so that each register forms a separate system and there is no common core.

I will present these alternatives using various systems to illustrate the differences, starting with PRIMARY TENSE. This system is clearly variable across registers: for example, narrative registers are essentially 'past' (within which there are additional secondary options - past in past, present in past, and future in past), expository ones may be essentially 'present' (generalized present time), and forecasts also include (but are not restricted to) 'future'. These can obviously all be seen as restrictions on the general system 'past/presentlfuture' and I will show how this can be achieved with the first approach.

(i) Probabilistic system with register skewings. According to this alternative, the system is fixed from a qualitative point of view and registers are specified in terms of different probabilities associated with systemic options. For instance, the options of PRIMARY TENSE have different probabilities depending on whether the register setting is narrative, expository or forecasting: see Figure 11.8. The different registers are thus within the overall semiotic space created by the general system. The probabilities in the TENSE example are merely illustrative but we can also draw on Nesbitt and Plum (1988) for a substantial example. They use the system of CLAUSE COMPLEXING to illustrate the probabilistic nature of the linguistic system and give among other things the distribution of the intersection of the simultaneous systems TAXIS (,hypotaxis/parataxis') and PROJECTION TYPE (,idea/locution') in four different registers (narrative, anecdote, exemplification, and observation/comment): see Figure 11.9. The difference between the observation/comment register and the others is particularly noteworthy in the area of 'locution', which does not combine with 'parataxis' in this register.

The systemic probabilities for a register that can be derived from relative frequencies in an appropriate corpus can thus be compared with the probabilities of other registers but they can also be compared with the overall probabilities of the general systems - generalized probabilities across registers inherent in the syste!!l;.;.lA givefifegistet'ca:rifnen~"oe"l

E:fiarl~n:tef'fze(r-'as'<'lt-skewin~·:§[j:iriibabiliti,e§.,[~lativ~ to ." the . g<::n~ralized / ~t~Jl!.!£_.pr.Q!?~I:?iE!ie.!'_J(T~~ different quantit~ti~~'-patter;:;~" fr~~'te~r' frequencies to generalized systemic probabilities correlate with different time-depths in observer perspective along the dimension of potentiality: cf. Section 6 below.)


narrative expositiory forecasting

past 1 0 .25

temporal present 0 1 .25

future 0 0 .5

Figure 11.8 Register specified in terms of probability skews

-{

hypotaxis

parataxis

1 89 0 11 100

locution

93 74- 7 2 I)

14 10 86 90 idea

21 1 4 79 8 S

/ KEY to registers: narrative observation/ comment

anecdote exemplification

Figure 11.9 Register specified in terms of frequency skews (based on Nesbitt and Plum, 1988)


(ii) Partitioned multi-register system with 'common core'. The limiting case of probabilistic differences across registers is when an option or an intersection of options has the probability 0 or 1: when it is categorially absent or present although it is not in the generalized system. Here the probabilistic difference can also be interpreted qualitatively. For instance, we could interpret the register differences pertaining to PRIMARY TENSE as follows: narrative - one term: 'past'; expository - one term: 'present'; forecasting three terms: 'past/present/future'. And for CLAUSE COMPLEXlNG, we could say that the observation/comment register includes a marking convention that is absent in the other registers in Figure 11.9, viz, 'if "locution", then "paratactic"'. Even though such statements are still in some sense within the overall systemic space of the general network, they presuppose some new form of specification that enables us to show how registers diverge qualitatively from one another. And such a form of specification would then also open up the possibility of allowing registers to diverge from the general system. This would in fact be necessary if it is the case that registers are mutually inconsistent and cannot be drawn from one general system. It is perfectly theoretically possible, for instance, that a particular register displays a grammatical system that is not shared by other registers and is not part of the general system of English grammar. ll For, instance, certain types of news reporting provide the option of thematizing the Process of a verbal clause that projects a quoted locution even though it precedes it (e.g. Sa£d he: 'There w£ll be a realignment of pol£t£cal forces and I bel£eve the NP wouldbestronger this time.') and this may not be an option in English in general. Or, to take another example, in procedural registers, there is an option of presupposing the Goal/Complement by leaving it implicit if it is specific (e.g., add the onions and fry until golden brown), which is not an option in the system of general English.

Recent work on multilingual systems at the University of Sydney suggests one possible path here. We have "developed a way of spedfying multilingual systems as assemblages of systems from different languages which may have common parts and language specific parts. The basic principle is quite straightforward: commonalities across languages are simply specified as shared system network parts and language-specific systems are specified within language-specific partitions of the system network (for details, see e.g. Bateman, Matthiessen, Nanri and Zeng 1991). Thus the basic MOOD systems are common across Chinese, English, and Japanese, but more delicate ones are stated within languagespecific partitions: see Figure 11.10. Partitioning the system network is a way of introducing conditionalization on systems (or system parts or realization statements) - or rather, meta-conditionalization, since the conditionalization is external to the logic of the system network itself (unlike conditionalization represented by entry conditions to systems), in this case conditionalization by, language.

This way of showing a generalized system network as an assemblage of specific networks where common parts are shared and different parts are


(Japanese)

J speaker- projected declarative ~

other- projected

247

J indicative

l imperative

( Chinese) (Chinese)

~;:: ) _ J ""',., Lfinal

particle ~ polarity

interrogative '_ ____ --'-____ ----'"

element

Figure 11.10 Multilingual system network with conditionalized partitions

clause

material

mental

.~bo' J ' __ --{reporting '1 proJectiJtg

relational quoting

J unmarked theme

~ marked theme

journalistic reporting

r-{i:;j other

Figure 11.11 Common core system and register-specific partition


partitioned can be applied to registers as well. The 'common core' of the system shared by two or more registers are common parts in the system network and register-specific parts are specified in conditionalized partitions. The general system network is thus an assemblage of register-specific ones, where particular systems may be common or unique to specific registers. For instance, if we want to state that only journalistic reporting has the option of thematizing the Process of a verbal clause, we can simply partition this THEME system: see Figure 11.11. (The example is a grammatical one, but the same principle applies to any stratum: partitioning is an extension of the fractal systemic organization.)

The general system is, as noted, an assemblage of the various registerspecific systems. To the extent that registers are compatible, there is a common core. 12 Now, in this model, a register-specific system is a particular view on the assemblage system (<;f. in particular, Matthiessen, Nanri and Zeng 1992): it includes the common core and register-specific partitions. Thus the 'journalistic reporting' view on the fragment shown in Figure 11.11 is the common core - PROCESS TYPE: 'material/mental/ verbal/relational', THEME SELECTION: 'unmarked theme/marked theme', VERBAL PROJECTION: 'projecting/non-projecting', VERBAL PROJECTION TYPE: 'reporting/quoting' - and also the partitioned system 'thematic process/other' . 13 The specification of a register as a view consisting of the common core and register-specific partitions is one way of answering de Beaugrande's (this volume) question whether 'only certain instances of language should be considered specific to some register': a register is a complete system, a variety of the general system available in a particular context of situation, but it shares parts with other registers - the common core.

Carter (1987; 1988: 9-10) identifies a number of characteristics of core lexis. For example: lexical items from the core in sets of related items tend to be more unmarked and other items from the same set are often defined in terms of the core item (e.g:, snigger, grin, smirk, beam are all definable as kinds of smile, the core item: beam = 'smile happily', etc.); core items are superordinates, i.e. less delicate (e.g., flower vs. rose, tulip, peony, etc.); items tend to be interpersonally neutral (they 'do not carry especially marked connotations or associations', as Carter puts it); and core items 'do not normally allow us to identify from which field of discourse they have been taken'.

The grammatical example above is quite specific to journalistic reporting of certain kinds (note that the register partition is more delicate than the common grammatical core). But the contrast between written vs. spoken registers is very general. If we use partitions, it is easy to specify that the systems of KEY extend the general MOOD grammar in delicacy (see Halliday 1967) but occur within a partition specific to those registers that are associated with the spoken mode: see Figure 11.12. Again, as with lexis, the 'core' common to both spoken and written varieties is less delicate that the KEY systems restricted to spoken varieties. 14

Partitioning is not inconsistent with approach (i). Rather it extends the


unmarked

de-c Tar ative

(

EiJ -{ uncommitted polarity . r:T1 1.assertl0n marked l.2.!J G]J

committed polarity rtservation

El contr adiotion

8J J Wh-interro9ative 1

. J int., actant

1 non-int.ractant

yes/no

unmarked

@J -{ ass.,tiv.

marked E:::!J -{ answer demanded

non-assertive .0 not d.mand.d "'\

polarity of .answer consequential

~ polarity of answer non-consequenUa 1

ED

Figure 11.12 Partitioning of KEY within the interpersonal clause grammar

249

represen~~tional ~ower of the system network and probabilities can in fact be partItIOned Just as whole systems can or realization statements associated with systemic features.

.. When. we consid:r the realization of semantics in lexicogrammar through preselectIO~S of lexIcogrammatical features in Section 4.2, we will see that the collectIOn ?f preselections ~roject a register image onto the lexicogrammar. PreselectIOn from above IS thus another way of indicating the boundaries of a register.

(iii) Sep~rate r~gist~r-srstems. The limiting case of a partitioned system net,,:ork IS ~: SItl.~~tIOn. w~ere there is no common core and only registerspeCIfic partItIOns. ThIS IS not, of course, a very likely situation since it would mean that there was no re-use of linguistic resources across the contexts of situation which different registers correspond to and it would als~ suggest t~at conte~ts of situation are completely distinct. Howeve~, settmg up r~gIster-specIfic systems can serve as a useful way into the char~ctenzatIOn of a register, particularly at the semantic stratum: see Halhday (19~3) and Caffarel (1990; 1991). It is also possible to argue that a system dedIcated only to a particular context of situation is a convenient way of compiling out register-specific information from the general system


(see Patten 1988, for the value from AI point of view). This poin~ and the use of separate systems for different registers will be pursued a bIt further

in Section 4.1.

4. Register and stratification

Stratification and inter-stratal realization are not easy principles of organization to come to grips with (see e.g. Halliday 1992). It is not possible to explore the issues concerning the interpretation of stratification here, but it is important to note two developments in the 1980s that are important to the interpretation of register.

(i) One is Martin's (e.g., 1985, in press) use of ~jelmslev's (1943~ not~on of konnotationsprog in his development of the planmng type of stratificatIOn (characterized briefly in Section 2.3 above): this is stratification where the lower stratum realizing another one is itself a semiotic system. A system realized by a semiotic system in this way is called a connotative semiotic system. He sees this as the relationship between context and language: context is a connotative semiotic system (or really a stratified set of such systems) realized by language. Martin has used this type of stratification to interpret register as was noted above.

(ii) The other is Lemke's (1984) notion of metaredundancy (further interpreted for systemic theory by Halliday 1992). Realization is seen not simply as a relation between patterns from two adjacent strata but as a relation between patterns and patterns realized in patterns: lexicogrammar is realized in phonology (I graphology) and semantics is realized in the realization of lexicogrammar in phonology (I graphology). The concentric circle diagram shown in Figure 11.2 represents metaredundancy in this way. It foilows that context is realized by the realization of semantics in lexicogrammar in phonology - or, to be more precise, it is realized by the variation in semantics realized in lexicogrammar realized in phonology. There is thus an interesting issue as to whether metaredundancy and connotative semiotic give us the same interpretation of the relationship between context and language. In any case, the metaredundancy interpretation of stratification has consequences for the interpretation of register: if a particular register is specified in semantic terms, then this semantic specification is realized by the realization of lexicogrammar in phonology (I graphology). In other words, the implications for lower strata

are made very clear.

Both the work on connotative semiotic and the work on metaredundancy have highlighted the 'constructive' role of lower strata in their realization of higher ones. Whilewordings such as 'language reflects context', 'grammar reflects semantics' and even 'grammar realizes semantics' may suggest a passive role for the lower strata, it is now often recognized that the


relationship is much more dialectic: for instance, in realizing context, language construes it and in realizing semantics, grammar construes it. Thus when Gunnarsson (this volume) writes: 'From a sociolinguistic point of view, changes in textual patterns are reflections of changes in society', we can explore an interpretation that gives the textual patterns an active role (cf. Birch, this volume, and his reference to Berger and Luckman). They construe social patterns and as they change, social patterns also change. The correlation can be seen as a complex dialectic with mutual influences. .

In interpreting register, it is important to try to operate with a comprehensively stratified model of language in context since any category derives its significance both from its location within a given stratum and from its inter-stratal relationships. As a result, semantic and lexicogrammatical categories are doubly responsible: a semantic category has to be bot~ contextually and lexicogrammatically responsible; and a lexicogrammatIcal category has to be semantically responsible and also, of course, capable of ultimately being realized phonologically or graphologically. So, for instance, the socio-cultural significance of a grammatical system such as MOOD is derivable from the stratified model by moving up to the semantics to see what semantic options it realizes and then to the higherlevel contextual systems to see how the semantic system realized by MOOD realizes these. This then takes us to considerations of tenor, of how social roles are distributed and constituted, and so on (cf. Hasan 1990). LeckieTarry (this volume) notes that genre theorists give genre a dual emphasis 'on all contextual levels and linguistic structure'. In connection with this it is important to emphasize that a comprehensively stratified model provides a multiple focus - the contextual significance of both language and register is built into the theory at the very foundation. The multiple focus makes it possible to view the whole system globally or to move in locally, with a semantic or lexicogrammatical focus for instance, and to 'look up' realizational connections at a higher or lower stratum. We can thus adopt different view points, different ways into the system say for purposes of descriptive research always remembering that the option of shunting (cf. Halliday 1961) has to be preserved.

A comprehensive account of a register is, of course, one that 'exhausts' it stratally. It will specify the relevant values within context of situation and show how the situation is staged generically, it will specify the overall semantics of the register realizing the situation type and the realization of the situation stages, and it will also specify lower-level linguistic realizations. However, there is nothing contradictory about a lexicogrammatical characterization of a register: this is one view from which certain semantic and contextual kinds of information can be derived; but it is a partial view - of necessity and as defined by the stratified model itself. For instance, it would exclude information about the semantics of text beyond those units that are realized by (complexes of) clauses. Or we can select certain key aspects of a register to characterize it. For instance, Ghadessy (this volume) shows what the staging of the situation type he is concerned with

j.l


is and then identifies the realizational patterns in language for each. See further Section 7.1 on the selection of 'selections' or 'slices' through the whole system.

Starting with context, I will now move down through the strata noting how registers can be characterized.

4. 0 Realization of context of situation

The way into a register is from a context of situation type - from a particular CC in Hasan's (1985) terms: the semantic system of that register as a whole realizes the situation type - (cf. Figure 11.6 above). But the realization is further differentiated according to the unfolding of the situation in semiotic space-time in stages - the elements of generic structure. One example of such a staging is given by Ghadessy (this volume); cf. also Gunnarsson's (this volume) superthematic structure. Each stage or element is realized by preselections within the semantic system of the register. This is one of the areas of register analysis where we need much more descriptive work but Hasan (1984) provides some theoretical underpinnings and a, descriptive example drawn from the register of nursery tales. She differentiates between nuclear meanings and elaborative meanings in the realization of a generic element: nuclear meanings are necessary and elaborative meanings may flesh out the realization further. In her account of matter cycles, Cross (1991; cf. this volume) extends Hasan's work as situational realization.

4.1 Register and semantics - register-specific semantic systems

As we have seen, a given context of situation corresponds to a particular ~S"i~!<;:rL~hich is in the first instance a::semantic variety of the -fmguisfic system since semantics is the interlevel between context and the rest of the linguistic system. One way of specifying such a semantic variety is to set up a separate semantic system in accordance with strategy (iii) of Section 3.2.2 above - a system dedicated to a particular context of situation with its settings of field, tenor, and mode: see Figure 11.13. The figure shows different contexts of situation corresponding to different semantic systems realized in different ways by one generalized lexicogrammatical system. This will bring out the organization of the particular communicative strategies we employ in different contexts of situation; and it is a useful research approach for getting started on the task of describing registers and semantics. 16

The semantic level can thus be thought of as a repertoire of situationspecific semantic systems. Such systems include the different text structures associated with different genres. For instance, it is possible to describe the semantic systems of stock market reports, of weather forecasting, of advertising, of culinary instruction, the system used by a mother controlling her


context

Figure 11.13 Situation-specific semantic systems as a way of stating registers

child, .and so on. ~hese semantic systems are all realized by means of the one hIghly generalIzed grammatical system. This model takes account of unity (the . gra~m~tical) in diversity (the various semantic systems). To see what t~e In:-phcatIOns ~re, v:e can consider a summary of certain aspects of Halhday s (1973) dISCUSSIOn of regulatory semantics. . Im~gine a c?~text of situation of one of the types Bernstein (1973) has ldentl~ed, as crltl~al for socialization - one where a mother tries to regulate her chIld s behavIOur. Her son has been playing at a construction site and she wants to prevent him from doing so again. The tenor is thus one of m~ther t~ young c~ild, with the mother having the authority. The field chIld-r~anng: behavIOur control and the child's body and behaviour. The mode IS spo~en ~nd hortatory. What can the mother do semantically to add~ess the sltuatIOn~ Two basic regulatory strategies are threatening (with pumshme~lt or .restramt) and warning (about what will happen to the child or the chIld will cause to happen). Examples of texts include

threat

if you do that again I'll smack you Daddy'll be cross with you you do that again and you'll get smacked


-f"" -{

,.~'"' 00 "''''", •• , :=J--{ "' " ..... mental punishment -1 agency specified by other

physical punishment ,_

warning

-{

condition explicit

condition implicit

agency unspecified

Figure 11.14 Fragment of regulatory semantics

warning

you'll get hurt you'll get your feet wet you'll tear your clothes

The semantic network consists of systems like 'threat/warning', 'physical punishment/mental punishment/restraint on behaviour', and so on. Part of the semantic system network discussed in Halliday (1973: 81) is given in Figure 11.14 (only the category of 'threat' is further elaborated in delicacy here).

Let's consider one more example - the semantics of culinary instruction deployed in written recipes. This is quite a simple semantic variety; it is a fairly restricted register. The tenor is one of expert to non-expert with the expert providing a service for the non-expert. The field is one of procedures in the culinary realm. The mode is written and instructional. Interpersonally, the writer can either choose to interact with the reader by instructing or informing him/her or just choose to qualify some instruction. Ideationally, the writer represents either a culinary doing or a culinary being, with states of wanting/liking as a third minor option. Figure 11.15 presents a very simple semantic network; it is presented in more detail in Halliday and Matthiessen (forthcoming). I will return to this semantic network in Section 4.2 below to discuss its lexicogrammatical realizations.

We have seen two examples of simple registerial semantic networks. What is the status of such networks in theory and praxis? I suggested at the outset that at the very least they provide us with a convenient way of characterizing a 'profile' of a register and a way of working on semantics


interacting

qualifying

doing

*-> liking

being

**-> instructing

informing

temporally

->* conditionally

->** culinary operation

culinary happening

Figure 11.15 Culinary instructional semantics

255

without having achieved a general comprehensive account of the semantic system yet. If this is all there is to them, then from a theoretical point of view they are only transient descriptive steps in the direction of an account of register variation in the semantic system according to strategy (i) or (ii) of Section 3.2.2. I Will say a few words about this possibility presently. However, even if that turns out to be the case - and it is a desirable outcome - register-specific semantic systems still have an interesting theoretical status. Patten (1988) presents a computational system based on Halliday's (1973) account summarized in part here. The system can generate short texts in the regulatory register. Patten demonstrates the value of registerial semantic systems from an AI point of view. They


constitute compilations of semantic strategies needed to solve recurrent communicative problems. Instead of having to search the vast general semantic system for appropriate semantic means, we can simply confine ourselves to the semantic potential associated with the current context of situation. Semantically, a register is thus a 'customized' network of strategies for addressing the task of a particular context of situation. Such a network may have been compiled out of a generalized semantic network - it. may have been compiled from a representation such as (i) or (ii) of SectIOn 3.2.2. Patten's argument seems compatible with the notion that a register is a view on the general system, which consists of an assemblage of systems.

The theoretical possibility that registerial semantic systems can be :iewed as variants of a general system, with a common core, is explored In recent work by Caffarel (1990; 1991). She then demonstrates that this works for French tense semantics in narrative registers and one expository one. Caffarel's work is thus very central to the fundamental question how register variation can be specified.

One area where it seems hard to set up a generalization within the semantic system is rank.!7 It is plausible that there are a number of different semantic rank scales for different registers, just as Sinclair and Coulthard's (1975) for lessons, mentioned earlier. The extent of a rank scale would depend on the nature and size of texts that have to be produced in a given context of situation.

4.2 Register and lexicogrammar

Contexts of situation are projected onto semantics as register-specific semantic potentials in the way discussed above. The situation specific 'image' projected onto semantics in the first instance is also projected onto lexicogrammar; that is, it is first projected onto content-stratum 1 and then onto content-stratum 2. Here the modelling situation is different: we have fairly extensive accounts of the grammatical system of various languages (for English, Halliday 1985a, specified systemically in Matthiessen 1990/2). Consequently, it is possible to try to 'capture' the register corresponding to a given situation along the lines of either strategy (i) or (ii) discussed above in Section 3.2.2 even though that is still not a general option for semantics: see Figure 11.16. I will illustrate with lexicogrammatical realizations of the two earlier examples, the regulatory and instructional semantic systems.

Semantic features are realized by preselections of grammatical features. For example, the semantic feature 'threat' is realized by selection of the grammatical feature 'declarative'. In general, delicate grammatical features are preselected and the less delicate features they presuppose can then be ~hosen automatically by moving from right to left (by backward chaining) In the system network rather than by explicit preselection. This method


context

Figure 11.16 Lexicogrammatical realizations of register-semantic systems

makes good use of the 'logic' of the lexicogra~matical system net~ork;. see

F · 11 17 The collection of preselectIOns from semantICS Into 19ure .. ... lexicogrammar constitute the projectior: of a re?lster Image .or vle.w onto lexicogrammar. I will illustrate how thIS works In more detaIl for Instruc-

tional semantics below... . As the diagram indicates, there is a tenden.cy for ~he sltuatIOn-spe~l~c

semantics to be more delicate than the generalIzed lexlcogrammar. T~lS IS to be expected, particularly in fairly restri~ted registers: only a restncted subset of the lexicogrammatical resources WIll be employed and the semantics can simply 'turn off' or deactivate certain parts of the g~a~mar by never preselecting grammatical featur~s in these .parts. (If t?lS IS to be made explicit, the disabling of lexlCogr~mmatlc.~ pot:ntlal may. be represented either by 0 probabilities or negatlve partl.tIOn~, l.e. of par:lt!ons of what is not part of the register. In the current .Nlge~ Implementatlon of systemic-functional grammar it would also be possIble sImply to change the status of systems that are never entered to 'disabled'. Cf. also <?'Donnell (1990) on activation of a register potential fro~ above. In parslI~g, there could be a benefit making it explicit that certaIn parts of the lexlcogrammatical potential have been turned off sir:ce .th~y do not t?en have to ?e explored; the search space is reduced, which IS Important sInce. complexIty is a real problem in parsing. This is surely what readers and hsteners do.

258

.. 0 .. .,.. 0 .... ·r-I·rI ~ g ~ ~ ll:


)

""rning

-{ -i physioal punishment

threat mental punishment

restraint on behaviour

-{

indioative

olause

imperative

<

Figure 11.17 Lexicogrammatical realization of situation-specific semantics

The principle with the realization of the semantic system of culinary instruction is the same. It projects a registerial image or view onto the generalized lexicogrammatical system through preselections. Let me illustrate this in some more detail with respect to the grammatical system of MOOD (for the details of the description used here, see Matthiessen 1990/2). The interpersonal semantic features of the instructional system presented in Figure 11.15 above are realized as follows

semantic feature ...,. lexicogrammatical feature

Qualifying ...,. bound: expanding: enhancing interacting ...,. free instructing ...,. imperative: jussive: implicit & untagged informing ...,. indicative: declarative & non-interactant &

untagged & temporal: present

These preselections constitute a set of paths through the MOOD grammar (including MOOD PERSON, DEICTICITY and MOOD TAG) as shown in Figure 11.18. The bold underlining indicates features preselected from the semantics. (The early system 'free/bound' is not shown, nor are the systems differentiating different types of bound clause, 'expanding' and 'enhancing' .) Collectively the preselections show which part of the overall grammatical potential can be activated in this register. This selection from the overall MOOD grammar is the registerial image or view projected from the semantics through the preselections.

r-~ + Mood +Finite . Mood ( Fi nite) +subject Mood(Subj)

I- imperative

Figure 11.18


IND. MOOD PERS.

DEICTlCITV

. addressee

~ ISu: 'you: I interactant INT. speaker-plus

TVPE IS\,we' l

non-i nteractant

PRIMARV temporal TENSE

modal

spea er ---

~

past IFi nite: past)

present ~:pres] future I Fi nite: 'will ']

259

explicit

implicit

\"MOOd \

~exPlicit

} DECL.

SUBJ. . . PRESUMPTION i mpllclt

\ "Subject \

tagged + Moodtag ( + Tagfi nite " + Tagsubject ) Moodtag""

untagged

Registerial image projected from semantics through preselection

<?nly certain parts ~f ~he f~;~e~r;:sa:a:r~et~~~ue;~; ;;l~~t~~r!~d t~~ regtster. BYil thble. s.ampero~a~~iistic terms, their probabilities have ~een reset or not ava a e. In . ,. o· th Ipe gram-

. h babilit of ' interrogative IS m e rec to 0; ;: mst~c~9 \~o~o this b; blocking out those featur~s t~at ~re never mar. 19ure '. . clearl that the regtstenal Image or selected. From thIS we can see very y. bbreviation For

. 'l'f d l' f the full grammar IS an a . view that IS 1 te ou 0 b h' This means that it is possible instance, certain paths are non- ranc mg.

260

~ + Mood ... fi nite Mood( Fi nite) ... Subject Mood(Subj)

i mperelive

IND.

TYPE

IND.

MOOD PERS.


i nteractant INT.

TYPE

no n - i nte racta nt

Figure 11.19 'Blocked' grammar not part of recipe grammar

to ~nf~r ~?re ~elicate features from less delicate ones. Thus it is possible to enve JussIve' and 'implicit' and 'untagged' from 'imperative' sim I bec~ubsle there are no alternatives on their path. In principle it would Pb~ POSSI e to construct a recipe g bb" f II al rammar as an a revIated version of the u t' gener f g~mmar by collapsing such non-branching paths and leaving ~u parts 0 t e full potential that can never be activated (such as the AG~ING system or the DECLARATIVE SUBJECT PRESUMPTION t ).

see FIgure 11 20 Th f£ Id b sys em . . . e e ect wou e even more dramatic in the ideational

f REGISTER IN THE ROUND 261

interactant: addressee

free

indicative: declarative & temporal: present

+ Mood + Finite Mood (Finite) + Subject Mood (Subject) Subject 1\ Finite Finite: present

imperative: jussive: implicit

Subject: 'you'

non-interactant

Figure 11.20 Recipe grammar as abbreviation of full potential

area of the clause grammar since TRANSITIVITY is extended in delicacy towards lexis (see Cross, this volume) and culinary processes are a very narrow band through the full system.

In the examples above, the registerial image projected onto the grammar falls within the common core grammar. However, we have already seen that it is possible that the generalized system network of the grammar contains certain register-specific partitions - Figures 11.11 and 11.12 in Section 3.2.2 above illustrate. this possibility. And in certain registers this may be more prominent - in particular the grammar of 'little texts' (Halliday 1985a: Appendix 2): headlines (,headlinese'), telegrams, etc. where there is a need for compression (see Sinclair 1988).

In my discussion of registerial images projected onto lexicogrammar, I have proceeded from situation specific semantic systems. However, another alternative has also been explored by Bateman and Paris (1991). They use situational constraints of field, tenor, and mode to guide the semantically informed selection of lexicogrammatical features. I won't go into a more detailed account here since it presupposes familiarity with the chooser and inquiry approach to the lexicogrammar's semantic interface: the general principle is that responses to semantic inquiries are made sensitive to contextual factors.

Finally, I should note that the effect of preselections from semantics to lexicogrammar can in principle also occur between lexicogrammar and


phonology/graphology. The difference is that the stratal line here is largely conventional so that registerial restrictions will not be projected onto phonemic systems, for example. We will, however, see the effect with TONE systems since they are related in a fairly natural way to KEY systems within lexicogrammar and SPEECH FUNCTION systems within semantics. Consequently, any registerial constraints on the speech functional systems will 'ripple' through. Sefton (1991: Section 5) discusses how to deal with register in a systemic account of graphology.

4.3 Congruent and metaphorical realization

In the discussion of the realization of semantics in lexicogrammar up to now, I have not considered the distinction between congruent and metaphorical realization and its relationship to register variation but I will say a few words about this important phenomenon now starting with metaphor itself. Once a semiotic system has been established along the basic dimensions of the semiotic space, it may be possible to expand the whole system by shifting some basic parameter. For instance, within the phonological stratum, a whole vowel system may be more or less doubled by advancing the position of the tongue root as in Akan (cf. Stewart 1967; Pike 1967): a new global systemic parameter is introduced. Similarly, the content system of language can be expanded by shifting semantics and lexicogrammar relative to one another. Relative to the congruent realizational correspondences between the two content strata, the realization is shifted from one domain of lexicogrammar to another. For instance, intensity is congruently realized by very, much, more, less etc. but it can be realized metaphorically by being shifted to the domain of (vertical space, e.g. high, low, rise, fall; expanded, shrink, etc. Similarly, realizations may be shifted down the grammatical rank scale from clause to group, from group to word, and so on: see Figure 11.21. Thus a process configuration is realized congruently as a clause, e.g. De Klerk will depart from office, and metaphorically as a group, e.g. De Klerk's departure from office. And these metaphorical lexicogrammatical realizations also construe new types in the semantic system itself thereby expanding its potential. 18 (Indeed, new domains of meaning may be opened up; cf. Goatly, this volume, on metaphor and 'lexical gaps'.) For instance, from a semantic point of view, De Klerk's departure from office is a process configuration realized as if it was an element of the type participant.

It is important to note that the domain of the realizational shift in metaphor is all of lexicogrammar: metaphor can be grammatical as well as lexical and they can be interpersonal as well as ideational (Halliday 1985a: Ch. 10). The example given above is one of grammatical metaphor and further examples are given in Eggins et al. (this volume). Goatly's (this volume) contribution is primarily concerned with lexical metaphor. Thus when he cites his examples (120) to' illustrate a paragraph in scientific English which shows 'minimal use of metaphor', his focus is on lexical

process configuration

element


congruent realization

metaphorical realization

Figure 11.21 Congruent and metaphorical realization

metaphor. The paragraph is, in fact, highly metaphori~al at the gram.matical end of lexicogrammar. For instance, in As evolutIOn progressed, thzs biological weathering increased, process configurations of 'things continuing to evolve' and 'living organisms weathering things more and more' that would congruently be realized by clauses are reconstrued metaphorically as participants that can take on roles in ot~er process configurat~ons and are realized by groups. And there are associated metaphors; for Instance,. the phase of 'continue to evolve' is reconstrued as a separate process, reahzed by progressed. These metaphors are at the very general ~rammatical e:r;td of the lexicogrammatical continuum. Science depends cruClal~y on the reI~cation of the fluid experience of everyday, casual conversatIOn (cf. Halhday 1987). .

Now, the central significance of metaphor for regIster variat.ion is t~is.

Metaphorical realization expands the content system. by. IntroducIng metaphorical varieties. This means that the mode of reahzatIOn can then itself be a point of register variation: the content system has expanded a~d so has its potential for variation. And the variation seems fairly systematIc. At least in the area of grammatical metaphor, registers as a whole tend to be more congruent or more metaphorical in their type of realization. Hal~iday (1985b) has shown that prototypical spoken regis.ters te~d to be low In ideational grammatical metaphor whereas prototypIcal wntten ones are


high; see also RaveIli (1985). Ideational grammatical metaphor has become very prominent in wfitten scientific English (Halliday, 1988). Hunston (this volume) points out that interpersonal evaluation is often realized metaphorically in the scientific research articles she studied, making them more implicit and objective. Goatly (this volume) contrasts a range of different types of metaphor (but with a lexical rather than grammatical focus and ideational rather than interpersonal focus) in conversation, Ilews reporting, popular science, advertising, and poetry. It is not clear to what extent these constitute registers that can be characterized in detailed contextual and linguistic terms - they may be 'pre-registerial' approximation~; but it is clear from Goatly's study that there is considerable variation in the use of metaphorical. strategies across these types. For instance, inactive metaphors aside, conversation (based on Quirk and Svartvik's

I ~ h . London-Lund corpus) seems to be large y congruent; w en active metaphors are used, they are marked in some way. One of his interesting findings is that different aspects of the metaphorical strategies are deployed in the different varieties. For instance, in popular science, metaphors are used systemically to reconstrue and explain some (new) domain of meaning and the grounds are an important aspect of this. This relates to the use of grammatical metaphor in history, studied by Eggins et al. (this volume), and in the register of physical science, discussed by Halliday (1988). In contrast, in advertising, inactive metaphors tend to be revitalized to achieve what Goatly calls the decorative function.

Eggins et al. show that within a secondary school history book, we find a range of registers. They analyze and discuss narratives, reports and arguments. These differ in various systematically related ways, e.g. in their conjunctive organization, but the important point in the present context is that these varieties differ in their mode of realization. From the point of view of ideational grammatical metaphor, the narrative register is the most congruent, the report much more metaphorical, and the argument the most metaphorical. For instance, process configurations are realized congruently in narratives but metaphorically in reports and arguments; and in arguments further semantic types, qualities and logico-semantic relations, also tend to be realized metaphorically. There is thus a correlation between register variation and variation in mode of realization here. Eggins et al. also show what the registers achieve - how, for instance, the metaphorical nature of the reports and arguments makes it possible to 'depopulate' history as story is turned into history. There is thus an effect of creating a distance to everyday experience of concrete episodes unfolding in time. In examining cognitive science texts, I have also found this effect of metaphorizing out people, the individual sensers engaging in conscious processing, (see Matthiessen, forthcoming).


phylogenetic time.

ontogenetic time

logogenetic time

time in semohistory

~otential for

Figure 11.22 The three semohistories, based on Halliday (1989)

5. Register variation and semohistory

265

In the previous section, I 'considered register variation as it intersects with stratification. I will not discuss register variation and metafunctional diversification, another global dimension of organization, in more detail here: the basic principle of the covariation of field and ideational resources, tenor and interpersonal resources and mode and textual resources is well-known. Instead, I will turn right away to register variation and semohistory. Halliday (1989) identifies three kinds of semiotic history or semohistory -logogenetic, ontogenetic, and phylogenetic (see also Halliday and Matthiessen, forthcoming: Section 5.3) - and I will base my discussion on his interpretation. The three histories embody different time scales - that of the text, that of the individual, and that of the species. They contextualize one another: phylogenesis provides the environment for ontogenesis, which in turn provides the environment for logogenesis. ~t the same time, they each provide the potential for change for another, m reverse order. Figure 11.22 is an attempt to summarize these characteristics diagrammatically. It shows a system as a circle as in all the


other diagrams and it indicates change through time by slightly shifted circles. Logogenesis is shown at the frontier.

We are also here concerned with variation. However, while register variation can be idealized as 'static oscillation', semohistoric variation is 'dynamic oscillation'. But there is still a connection between the two types of variation or oscillation (cf. Section 6 below).

5.1 Logogenesis

The first semohistory is the instantiation of the system in the unfolding of text - text history. As a text unfolds, it moves from one logogenetic state to another. O'Donnell (1990) introduces a way of representing such states and O'Donnell, Matthiessen and Sefton (1991) apply"this to informationseeking phone dialogues.

A text has to build up its own background gradually - it has to produce material for itself to build on - and registers provide different strategies for achieving this. This accumulation of meaning is recorded in an instantial system - a system specific to a particular text instance which is developed in the course of the unfolding of the text (for examples of instantial systems, cf. Halliday 1973, on Golding's Inheritors). The way in which instantial systems are built up in the course of the development of a discourse may be typical of a register - for example, lexical subsystems (see Hasan 1984a; Fries, 1982) including technical lexis (Wignell et al., 1987), constraints in the transitivity system on process types and participant role fillers, metaphorical grammar (see Halliday 1988). It is only possible to give one short local example here. It is common to prepare for the interpretation of ideational grammatical metaphors by introducing a congruent realization first - this increases the instantial potential for interpreting the metaphor; for example:

'Despite the fact that he wants to stay, de Klerk will probably have to make way for Mandela or somebody else by 1993 or 1994.' De Klerk's departure from office will be neither as sudden nor as unseemly as was Gorbachev's. (Newsweek)

Thus we know from its history that De Klerk's departure ]rom office is in future and probable. This example is taken from a news article and Nanri (in prep.) shows that there is a general move from the congruent to the metaphorical in news paper reports of assassinations (cf. also Trew 1979, on sequences of articles and the ideological implications of metaphorical codings), a pattern first documented and explained for scientific English by Halliday (1988; 1989). In a study of computer manuals for the EDA project (see Section 7.2 below), we have found one source of problems being the lack of congruent forms before metaphorical ones are introduced: it may be difficult for the reader to supply the information about transitivity relations that is often implicit in nominalizations, for example. Similarly, the


register-specific lexical potential of a text has to be build up through various forms of elaborating strategies (identifying relational clauses, elaborating [appositional] complexes, and so on) and full terms have to be used before they can be compressed as acronyms and other forms of abbreviation.

An instantial system is thus one that emerges and 'grows' as a text of a particular register unfolds. At any given point in the unfolding, it is a record of the text's past and it is the resource out of which the future can be selected. The text instantiates the potential of the register system and in the course of doing so it thus create~ its own instantial system. If we adopt a probabilistic interpretation, we can see that the difference between the potential and the instantial is one of time-depth, just as the difference between today's weather and this region's climate: see Halliday (1991b, c) and Section 6 below. The instantial system is by nature transient; but repeated instantiations may change the registerial system itself and thus the general linguistic system: new aspects of the system emerge in the text. This is the link between logogenesis and ontogenesis and also, ultimately, the link to phylogenesis. To understand the dynamics of register, we have to work more on modelling these relationships.

5.2 Ontogenesis

The second type of semohistory is the development of language in the individual from proto-Ianguage through a transition into adult language (see e.g. Halliday 1975; Painter 1984). Proto-Ianguage does not display any register variation - or, to interpret it another way, there is no distinction in proto-Ianguage between specific systems and a general one: there is a small set of contexts of use (regulatory, instrumental, interactional, personal, etc.) and each corresponds to its· own proto-semantic potential (cf. approach (iii) in Section 3.2.2). It is only later in the transition to adult language that the generalized metafunctional organization "begins to appear together with the grammatical system as the content stratum is bifurcated into semantics and grammar. The developing lexicogrammatical system ,is a general one but, as far as I understand, it takes time for contextually valued register variation to emerge. This stands to reason: young children do not engage in a great variety of diversified contexts. The potential is arguably already there right from the beginning in the differentiated uses of language but once the general system has begun to develop they do not yet need their own specific registers. However, young children do, . of course, encounter register variation; alongside the dialogues they learn to engage in, they meet and learn rhymes, songs, stories, etc. See further Martin (1983) on the development of register. ,

The written registers of primary school develop from the very simple observation/comment register, which splits into two strands, one narrative and one expository, each of which becomes gradually more complex: this development has been documented in detail in the Australian setting by


expanding types of context

expanding registerial repertoire

Figure 11.23 The child's expanding semiotic universe

Martin and Rothery (1980 etc.) in their writing project. The child's increasing registerial repertoire co-develops with the eve~-wider contexts ~f situation in which s/he can move semiotically: see Figure 11.23. ThiS underlines the important point that persons develop as they learn new registers by learning to take on new 'personae' thus gaining acc.ess to new contexts (cf. Section 3.1.2 and also again de Beaugrande, thiS volume: Section 4).

The study of written registers in primary school has been followed up by a study of the registers of the disciplines secondary school st~dents have to learn, including now grammatical metaphor upor: which e~ucational/scientific knowledge depends. They have to move mto the registers of the educational knowledge of different disciplines, away from the commonsense knowledge of pre-school life. Eggins et al. (thi~ volume) analyze the discourse of history and Wignell et al. (198~) .diSCUSS the discourse of geography. These two secondary school vaneties show a considerable difference in the deployment of the linguistic resources and, while the studies do not focus on the texts produced by secondary students, it is clear that, by this stage in their education, the studen:s .have to develop a registerial repertoire that construes a ~onsiderable ~emi~tic space. Without this repertoire, it will be impossible to mtegrate a diversity of new kinds of educational knowledge.

Within a matter of a few years, students have to move from the language9f the family and the neighbourhood embodying sense knowledge - folk taxonomies, a world view construed in the congruent mode, personal experience, and so on - to include also the registers .in :vhich educa:ional or uncommonsense knowledge can be negotiated - SCientific taxonomies, a world view construed in the metaphorical mode, vicarious experience, and so on.


5.3 Phylogenesis

The third type of semohistory to be considered is the evolution of the system in the species - phylogenesis. Here the time frame is much longer and the basic type of change is evolution rather than individual development or growth. In traditional diachronic studies, the focus has been on items, subsystems or systems, but not on registers from a detailed and theoretical linguistic point of view (studies of the development of advertising, journalism, ll.istorical writing, and so on are very valuable but tend not to be explicit and detailed enough for register analysis). However, Gunnarsson (this volume) reports on an extensive study of scientific and popular scientific articles from medicine, technology, and economics from three ten-year periods between 1895 and 1985 in Sweden. There are clear changes along the different parameters measured that seem both systematic and internally coherent. Interestingly, while the tendencies in science are fairly clear, those in popular science are less clear 'probably reflecting the fact that this genre is more heterogeneous'. This highlights the fact that registers may develop in different ways. Gunnarsson is also able to point to interesting correspondences between what she calls 'changes in the contextual frames within which the texts function' and 'changes in society'. I have already noted that she describes these correspondences in terms of textual changes reflecting changes in society and I have suggested that we can explore the interpretation according to which registerial changes also construe social changes - the scientific community changes discursively.

Other accounts of changes in scientific registers include Slaughter (1986), Bazerman (1988) and Halliday (1988). Slaughter (1986) is not primarily concerned with scientific registers but rather with the 'philosophical languages' of the early taxonomic stage in science around 16th-17th century. However, she illustrates the changing format in descriptions of plants from the 17th century up through Carl von Linne, which occurs at the same time as the experiential lexical system shifts from folk taxonomy to scientific taxonomy - these are both aspects of registerial changes. This period also provides an interesting insight into the possibility of new semiotic systems being derived from specialized registers. In spite of the work on universal characters/philosophical languages in the period, the proposals for designed semiotics with a taxonomic focus never took off. However, after the taxonomic period of science, modern symbolic logic was derived from language, reflecting Leibniz' interest in an algebra for thought and reasoning - the domain of the logical metafunction rather than the experimental one. Logic, knowledge representation systems within AI, and other similar semiotics are responses to contextual demands and, like specialized registers, they serve in a narrow set of contexts of situation. However, unlike specialized registers, they are designed, axiomatic semiotics, not evolved ones.

Halliday (1988) traces a syndrome of certain features during five hundred years of emerging scientific English. In particular, he shows the


role grammatical metaphor has played both ideationally in building up scientific information and textually in organizing scientific text.

One interesting question concerning the nature of registerial phylogenesis is whether register systems and general linguistic systems change in the same way or not. Halliday has suggested that it is possible that while phylogenetic change in general is evolutionary, registers have growth cycles - they come into being, flourish, become rigid and ritualistic, and die. This is again an area where further descriptive work is needed.

6. Register and potentiality

We have considered register variation in relation to two central dimensions defining the semiotic space we call language in context. Stratification defines the symbolic domain of register variation - it is variation within the linguistic system in correlation with contextual diversification; and the centre of the perturbation is the semantic system since it is the interface between context and language. Semohistory locates register variation in time and we can ask how registers change - how they evolve, develop and are instantiated over time. This last temporal dimension, or set of temporal dimensions, takes us to another dimension, potentiality, since registers only change in the exchange between potential and instance through instantiation.

I noted in Section 2.1.3 above that all three phases of potentiality - the potential, instantiation, and the instance - have to be kept in view; they are all part of language. It follows that all three phases also have to be in view in an account of registers. Importantly, processes of instantiation are part of the responsibility of register analysis. It seems quite clear that registers differ not only in their potentials but also in their modes of instantiation. For instance, in spoken registers we tend to see online editing whereas in written registers, editing is a more separate process; at any rate, it is not part of the final product (cf. Halliday 1985b). Makkai (1988) provides an account of the cycles of instantiation in writing a poem - and he illustrates how one may access the potential in different ways; e.g., to achieve rhymes one might use a reverse dictionary. This is clearly an area where we need many more ,register studies.

In recent 'post-structuralist' work on text and register, there has been a tendency to foreground instantiation and the instance - text as process or product - and to neglect the potential. This is one way of using intertextuality and of talking about discourses negotiating with one another. However, an . without the potential seems to me to be impossible to sustain in at explicit modelling. The potential is what grounds metaphors engaging in dialogue: the information being exchanged has to be recorded somewhere and the record is precisely the potential. This does not mean that the record is fixed or is merely a generalization across generalizations. Halliday has pointed out that the difference

i

'[',' ~ REGISTER IN THE ROUND 271

between the potential and the instance is one of time-depth and observer view-point:

I have suggested that the context for the meaning potential - for language as a system - is the context of culture .... The context for the particular instances - for language as processes of text - is the context of situation. And just as a piece of text is an instance of language, so a situation is an instance of culture. So there is a proportion here. The context for an instance of language (text) is an instance of culture (situation). And the context for the system that lies behind each text (language) is the system which lies behind each situation -namely, the culture ....

We can perhaps use an analogy from the physical world: the difference between 'culture' and 'situation' is rather like that between the 'climate' and the 'weather'. Climate and weather are not two different things; they are the same thing, which we call weather when we are looking at if close up, and climate, when we are looking at it from a distance. The weather goes on around us all the time; it is the actual instances of temperature and precipitation and air movement that you can see and hear and feel. The climate is the potential that lies behind all these things; it is the weather seen from a distance, by an observer standing some way off in time. So of course there is a continuum from one to the other; there is no, way of deciding when a 'long-term weather pattern' becomes a 'temporary condition of the climate', or when 'climatic variation' becomes merely 'changes in the weather'. And likewise with 'culture' and 'situation' ... (Halliday 1991b: 7-87).

The relation between the two, potentiality or istantiation, is thus a continuum and we can identify potentials relative to instances at different time-depths. Now if we consider the endpoirtts of this continuum, the most general potential and the instance, we can locate both register and context of situation along this dimension. Halliday (1991 b) shows this diagrammatically in his Figure 1. I have represented ~the relationship in terms of the type of diagram used throughout this chapter: see Figure 11.24. Looked at from the point of view of the instantial, a register is thus a generalization about recurrent patterns across instances; and looked at from the point of view of the general potential, it is variation within this potential. Figure 11. 25 represents the intersection of the dimensions of potentiality and register variation.

The relation between potential ~nd instance is very crucial to our interpretation of register. Among other things, it is the foundation for the systemic interpretation of frequencies of text instances (used by Ghadessy and by Gunnarsson, this volume) as instantiations of probabilities in the potential. And this begins to suggest both how the system can vary and how it may change.

The two main ways of instantiating the potential are clearly generation' and understanding.


the potential

Figure 11.24 Context of culture and context of situation along dimension of longterm potentiality

There are also additional types that draw on these, e.g. revlsmg, abstracting, and translating. In addition, we can also consider processing of the potential that is specifically part of the account of register. In Section 3.2.2 (ii) I talked about 'lifting out' registerial views from the general assembly system and in Section 4.2 I talked about 'compiling out' registerial semantic systems. Such processing is aimed at 'customizing' the potential for particular tasks. For instance, if we are faced with a particular context of situation, it will not be necessary to use the whole potential· and it makes sense to operate with a more restricted register potential. The possibility of processing the general resources in this way to derive some view that is optimal for a given task is actually already familiar from other areas. For instance, compiling a dictionary can be interpreted as the process of collecting lexical information that can be derived fro~ lexical

register variation

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items in an account of lexis such as the one given by Cross (this volume) - see further Nesbitt (in prep.) on the dictionary as a perspective. And, in a similar way, different perspectives on the grammar are built up in tables to make accessing the grammar as easy as possible in parsing. In an analogous way, a register is a variety of the linguistic system accessed from a particular context of situation and it may make sense to compile it out from the general system for certain tasks.


7. Register description - within registers and across registers

I have reviewed various issues relating to register analysis as a theoretical activity - the basic questions have been what the theoretical interpretation of register is and what its implications are. Register analysis is also a descrip-. tive activity: once we have the theoretical potential, we can instantiate it in descriptions of registers, which is an important aspect of the development of register theory. It is not possible here to review what we know about the registers of English and other languages descriptively although it may be useful to list the range of descriptions in this volume, its companion, Ghadessy (1988), and some other related work. Characterized in fairly nontechnical terms, the range of registers explored in descriptions include:

language of narrative - Toolan (1988a); development, Martin and Rothery (1980), realization, Hasan (1984b); Fries (1985); Rothery (1990); Thibault (1991).

language of exposition - Martin (1985b); Martin and Peters (1985). language of history - different registers: narrative, report, and argu

ment; Eggins et al. (this volume). language of geography - Wignell et al. (1987). language of physical science - Halliday (1988) - scientific English in

general: Huddleston et al. (1968); Halliday and Martin (in press). language of religion - Houghton (1988); Webster (1988); Harvey (1989). language of news reporting - Carter (1988); Nanri (1991; in prep.). language of service encounters - Mitchell (1957); Hasan (1978); Ventola

(1987). language of business communication - Ghadessy and Webster (1988);

Ghadessy (this volume). language of advertising - Leech (1966); Toolan (1988b); Vestergaard

and Schroder (1985). language of class room interaction - Barnes et al (1969); Flanders (1970);

Sinclair and Coulthard (1975); Christie (1990); Hunt (1991); Yamagata (1992).

language of court room - Harris (1988); Gibbons (in press). language of casual dinner table conversation - Eggins (1991). language of gossip - Slade (1990; in prep.). language of caller - operator in information-seeking phone dialogues -

Eggins et al. (1991).

It would be an important contribution to describe the overall semiotic space in which these 'registers' are located relative to one another - to provide a general account of field, tenor and mode and to specify the values for each variety listed above. This would introduce greater precision in register analysis and might very well invite us to re-interpret some of the varieties that have been identified in the past. As already noted, there is a certain danger that we simply take over categories based on folk genres. Jean Ure's (forthcoming) work is a very important contribution to


the exploration of the overall semiotic space defined by field, tenor and mode.

In what follows, I will only make a few observations about the standpoint selected in describing registers (Section 7.1) and possible computational tools at our disposal (Section 7.2).

7.1 Standpoint

As I noted in the introduction, I think one of our most pressing tasks in register analysis is description. Descriptions of various registers are intrinsically valuable, they are needed in education (cf. Ghadessy and Webster 1988), they are needed in computational linguistics (cf. Patten 1988; Bateman and Paris 1991), and they are needed for further theoretical interpretation as I have indicated at various points in the discussion. Registers can be described in the same way as languages. A comprehensive account is one that takes the various dimensions discussed above into account. The principle is that a register is a variety of the linguistic system that is located along the dimension of register variation but which is not restricted along any other dimension - it is not only a matter of lexis, or specific rhetorical strategies, and so on.

Now, unless the register to be described is quite constrained, a comprehensive account is very time-consuming so we need (i) to be able to make principled selections and (ii) to be able to use such a selection as a way into a comprehensive account. In a sense, it is a matter of getting as much interpretive mileage out of as little analytical energy spent as possible. The principled selection follows, it seems to me, from the theory as discussed above; we can take a section or 'slice' out of the total system (just as we can view the brain based on a particular section) in the followmg ways.

(i) stratal slicing: While recognizing that a register is centrally a variety of the semantic system implicated in a particular context of situation, we can take not only a semantic slice out of a register for description but also a lexicogrammatical one. This makes theoretical sense because both semantics and lexicogrammar are content systems and are related in a natural rather than conventional way. It also makes practical sense because we have descriptions of the lexicogrammatical system that far exceed anything we have for the semantics in comprehensiveness. 2o Further, automating lexicogrammatical analysis using large-scale parsers is starting to become a possibility, but comprehensive semantic analysis is much further away (cf. Section 7.2). A lexicogrammatical analysis can be used as a way into a register. In Section 4.2, I showed how the semantic system of a register is projected onto lexicogrammar through preselection so given a lexicogrammatical analysis we can begin to infer the semantic system realized through those preselections. For instance, in current research at Sydney University aimed at generating very short literary biographies in Chinese,


English, and Japanese, we are using ideational lexicogrammar to analyse a small corpus as the first step towards building up the semantic base (,knowledge base') from which such texts can be generated (what is usually called domain modelling in computational linguistics).

(ii) metafunctional slicing: A stratal slice through the system has the advantage that it is multifunctional; it covers ideational, interpersonal, and. textual considerations. However, it will not, of course, provide a multistratal picture with attention to inter-stratal relations. So an alternative way of managing the descriptive task is to take a metafunctional slice through the system, with multistratal coverage. For instance, in a study of information-seeking phone dialogues at Sydney University, we were interested in getting a sense of the overall ·stratal profile of the register, including full inter-stratal connectivity, so we decided on an interpersonal slice through the system (e.g., Eggins et al. 1991; O'Donnell, Matthiessen and Sefton 1991) to allow us to go from phonology (intonation: TONE) to context of situation (tenor). Such a metafunctional slice can then serve as a point of departure for further description aimed at comprehensive metafunctional coverage. It is also, of course, possible to intersect stratification and metafunctional diversification in the determination of the slice and to focus on e.g. ideational lexicogrammar, which is a good way in if one is interested in building up the 'knowledge' base of some register.

(iii) delicacy slicing: It has been recognized since Halliday (1961) that any description can be variable in delicacy. In principle, delicacy gives us two perspective - from low to increasing delicacy and from high to decreasing delicacy. (1) If we proceed from the more general end of the system, say from grammar or from grammatical semantics, we can choose a cut-off point in delicacy in our account of a register. If we choose the cut-off point at a very low degree of delicacy, we may also have cut off what is specific about the register, e.g. including mostly core lexis but leaving out more delicate lexical distinctions indicative of the register (cf. Section 3.2.2 (ii) above). The cut-off point in delicacy may thus determine whether we are describing features that are characteristic of the common core or features that are more specific to the register and it will also determine how delicate our registerial focus is. We may zoom in on a single register or we may pull back and describe a family of related registers. It is important to keep this in mind as there is sometimes some confusion about whether two registers are the same or not. The answer is typically yes and no; that is to say, indelicately they are the same, more delicately they differ (cf. the situation with dialectal variation). (2) If we proceed from the most delicate end of the system, say from lexis, we typically do not yet have the general descriptions that will allow us to move up to a certain point in indelicacy. So it is likely that the point of departure will be lexical items rather than lexical systems forming a delicate part of the lexicogrammatical system network (cf. axial slicing below) and we have to derive as much


information as possible about the system from relative frequencies, collocational patterns, etc - see e.g. Ghadessy (1988).

(iv) axial slicing: Analysis has to proceed from syntagmatic organization; for instance, lexicogrammatical analysis has to proceed from wordings -grammatical structures, grammatical items and lexical items. So in a sense, this is a syntagmatic 'slice' rather than a paradigmatic one: this is the immediate result of an IFG analysis (Halliday 1985a; Webster, this volume) and it is what we can get at directly through various computational tools based on lexical and grammatical items. However, on the one hand, syntagmatic analysis is paradigmatically guided and, on the other hand, to be able to describe a register we have to be able to specify it as a systemic variety, i.e. in paradigmatic terms. We can also take a paradigmatic slice - either in probabilistic terms or by lifting out only a register-specifie partition from the general system.

(v) potentiality slicing: The initial slice through the system has to be a corpus of instances - very likely a selection of texts that are judged to serve in the same context of situation. However, no description can proceed without the potential: a central aspect of analysis is to assign instances to the categories in the potential they instantiate. Moreover, the goal of register analysis is not the instance (that is a matter for explication de texte or even applications of discourse analysis) but the potential - the system that summarizes past texts in the register and predicts future ones. One important part of the move from instance to potential is the move from text frequency - the frequency of instances (tokens) of various categories in the potential - to systemic probabilities in the potential. The character of a register may be captured in these probabilistic terms - cf. Section 3.2.2 (i) above.

(vi) semohistoric slicing: We can focus within a register and try to produce a comprehensive description (at some cut in delicacy) or a description of some subsystem keeping time still; or we can let time vary (cf. Section 5 above). For instance, Huddleston et al. (1968) is a fairly wideranging study of grammatical features of current scientific English, whereas Halliday (1988) is a study of the development of a cluster of grammatical features of scientific English over the last 500 years or so.

So given these different possible stand points, how can we arrive at an initial profile or characterology of a register that can guide further description? As always, the answer will depend on what the purpose is, but the following strategy is one useful way to proceed. It is based on the need to achieve a balance between detail and reliability that can support statistical specifications (possibly arrived at computationally) and generality and prediction that can guide further system description. This suggests a two-pronged approach (see Figure 11.26) combining (1) a lexicogrammatical slice through the system (possibly accompanied by semantic


potential

lex. gram.

Figure 11.26 Two-pronged approach to the description of a register

annotations and excursions into discourse semantics through the resources of cohesions (see Halliday and Hasan 1976; Martin, in press), cut off at some point in delicacy but with full metafunctional and axial coverage, (2) with an instantial slice providing as full an account as possible of one or a few text instances (or, if the register produces long texts, text passages) that are judged to be representative. The first component probably does not need any further comment; some version of it would be part of most studies. The reason for choosing a lexicogrammatical slice is on the one hand that that is the system which has been most comprehensively described and on the other hand that it is the system where semi-automatic analysis is most accessible currently. The second component emphasizes the case study as a guide to further work on the potential of the register. It is a way of generating questions and hypotheses and of interpreting masses of data from a more narrow selection in (1). It can even serve as a pilot study before one has committed to all the settings of (1). Note for instance the value of the worked-out case studies in Eggins et al. (this volume).


If a register is studied against the background of information available about that register, similar registers or a less delicate specification of the register, then it may make sense to select certain discourse-semantic features for analysis. Martin (in press) gives many examples of the kind of rich analysis that is then available.

We have already seen how it is possible to focus on registers in different ways according to (i) through (vi) above. We can also vary the description according to the dimension of register variation itself. In the discussion above, I assumed we were concerned with a single slice through that dimension - with a single register. We can also look across registers and adopt a comparative method. Comparison across registers presupposes some way of typologizing the register - which is what the contextual parameters of field, tenor, and mode support. That is, in a fundamental sense, register analysis is inherently comparative since it is concerned with varieties and with their relative contextual significance. But we can take as our point of departure not a particular register but some linguistic feature or system such as the primary TENSE system or metaphor and compare it across registers. Goatly (this volume) provides such a study of metaphor in conversation, news reporting, popular science, advertising and poetry and reports considerable difference in number and range of metaphors. One of the favourite variables in comparative studies is mode - specifically, spoken/written.

7.2 Computational resources

The demands on the descriptions will naturally vary with the purposes they are intended for; but it is very clear that we need extensive descriptions that are comprehensive both in breadth and delicacy. Such descriptions are very hard to carry out completely manually and in a sense they have had to wait for computational tools to develop to the point where they are helpful. However, there are now some interesting options and an indication of important developments in the next few years.

. It makes sense to distinguish three types of computational resources and tools at present, although a given computational system may cover more than one type of functionality. I will mention examples that are or,iented towards systemic-functional and related lexical research (in addition, we thus have general-purpose statistical packages, concordance programs, various parsers, etc.):

(i) Reference resources - e.g., The user functions in the Penman system; Chris Nesbitt's HyperGrammar.

(ii) Recording and processing of analyses - e.g., Webster's (this volume) Functional Grammar Processor; and, taking one step further, Michael O'Donnell's Coder and Chris Nesbitt's HyperCoder.

(iii) Doing analysis - lexical analysis: COBUILD battery, CLOC (Reed, 1984); grammatical analysis: grammatical parsers are being developed


but they are still not at the stage where they can perform large-scale discourse analysis - Kasper (1989); O'Donnell (in prep.); the work on parsing with COMMUNAL.

(i) Reference resources are comparable to a dictionary, a thesaurus, a reference grammar, but they are online, which means on the one hand that search can be much faster and on the other hand there may be many more ways of searching the information than by e.g. alphabetic look-up - they can be 'read' as hyper-texts. The Penman system, which is a computational system for generating text and includes a large systemic-functional grammar, comes with a number of user functions for looking up lexicogrammatical information (see Penman documentation). Thus it is possible to view systems with associated realization statements, to ask which system a feature belongs to, to ask where a function gets inserted, to .ask what features a particular lexical item realizes, and so on. It is also possible to graph the system networks of the grammar on the screen and to access grammatical information from the graph by clicking relevant parts of it. Penman is written in LISP and grammatical information is stored in LISP files. However, Chris Nesbitt has developed a Macintosh HyperCard interface that can import and export these files, HyperGrammar. In HyperGrammar, it is possible to navigate around the grammar in various ways to retrieve or add information; for instance, one can view a card that displays a system. The Penman interface and HyperGrammar are examples of a new direction for reference resources that are needed in register analysis. It is possible, for instance, to explore the lexicogrammar systematically to determine what the register profile is or even to edit the general resource to arrive at a register-specific one - the reference resources are open and dynamic in this way. Clearly, there is a good deal more work to be done on developing a linguistic workbench for register analysis and other types of analysis and it is important to recognize the potential of such resources and identify demands to be placed on their design.

(ii)While reference resources can guide register analysis, it is also important to have the tools for recording the results of analysis in such a way that they can be searched in various ways, processed statistically, and so on: the usefulness of a record is to a large extent a function of how it can be used. Again, computational tools have an important role to play. Webster (this volume) describes his Functional Grammar Processor, a system running on MS-DOS machines for recording IFG style grammatical analyses. O'Donnell has developed an experimental Coder as an extension to the Penman system, the EDA parser, and similar systemic computational systems. This means that it is integrated with reference resources - it is possible to look up information through the Coder while doing the coding. It also means that the analysis is not only structural but also systemic: features of clauses, nominal groups, and so on are selected from the overall system network. This has made it possible to build in


some automatic analysis: the system provides the user with a number of central options to choose from and once the user has made the choices, the Coder infers less delicate features, drawing on the lexicogrammatical system network of the resources. The results of analysis are stored as record which can be edited. In addition, the coded features can be presented to a generator as preselections to test both the coding and the grammar itself.

(iii) Tools for recording analyses still 'require manual analysis (even if inferences are drawn automatically, as in O'Donnell's Coder). The next step up in functionality is automatic analysis. The general case of comprehensive analysis is unsolved; a working system will clearly be a real breakthrough in register analysis since it will make possible the kind of bulk analysis that is hard to achieve manually but which is so important. More limited analysis is possible. In particular, lexical analysis without any grammatical analysis is fairly accessible. The COBUILD work in Birmingham led by John Sin clair has been very significant in this area. Benson and Greaves (1992) describe what can be done with the CLOC programme (Reed, 1984), based on the work in Birmingham, and Benson and Greaves (1989) show lexical analysis can be used to infer aspects of the field.

There is ongoing research on the development of systemic-functional parsers capable of producing IFG style analysis together with the relevant systemic features. In the mid 1980s, Kasper (e.g., 1988) started work on such a parser using Functional Unification Grammar and current work also includes O'Donnell's (in prep.) work on a purely systemic-functional parser in Sydney, research in Germany and work on a systemic parser within the COMMUNAL project. As already noted, such parsers are not yet capable of parsing text in general; but it seems productive to develop their lexicogrammatical resources for large-scale parsing in particular registers.

In a project led by Guenter Plum, we are developing what has become known as an Electronic Discourse Analyzer (EDA). According to the design, the analyzer will parse a text systemic-functionally and do microsemantic interpretation (ideational, in particular). It will stop short of macro-semantic or discourse semantic interpretation. However, the lexicogrammatical and semantic results of analysis will themselves be analyzed or examined for patterns that are critical to the functionality of the text, 'critical language patterns' (CLPs; see Harvey, 1992). These include certain transitivity patterns such as those of definition and metadiscoursal description of the organization of the discourse and thematic progression. The CLPs are a way of significantly increasing the amount of information that can be drawn from discourse analysis even though it does not involve the goal of full comprehension: for further discussion and exemplification, see Matthiessen, O'Donnell and Zeng (1991). CLPs are very likely to be indicative of particular registers and different registers embody different sets of CLPs. The EDA could thus


become an important tool in register analysis.

8. Conclusion

We can look at the relationship between register and language either from the point of view of language or from the point of view of register. From the point of view of language, register is a state of variation of the linguistic system - it is a functional variety of language. From the point of view of register, language is an assemblage of registers - the total semiotic space created by all the different registers of English. These perspectives are complementary; they simply reflect which we take as a given to serve as a point of departure, language or register. I have tried to bring out both in the discussion. The interpretation of register in terms of an independent dimension· of variation has been explored and the possibility of register specific views (represented by means of partitions) assembled into a general system was put forward.

From whichever angle we look at the phenomenon of register-language, it is clear that a comprehensive account involves all the basic dimensions of language in context - the dimensions that construe this semiotic space. I have reviewed these discussing how they intersect with register variation. Since the contextual significance bf register variation is located within context of situation, that stratal subsystem which is the interface to context of situation is implicated in register variation in the first instance. But semantic constraints are projected down to the second content stratum, lexicogrammar, through preselection and even, by a further step, to phonology/graphology. Regi.ster variation applies throughout the content strata - across metafunctions, down the rank scale, l;Uld from delicate to most delicate. However, given the notion of a common core across register, it can be expected that generalizations across registers tend to be less delicate than specializations within registers.

The contributions to this book are descriptively different in that they deal with different registers but they also show some theoretical variation. I have not compared and contrasted the theoretical systems used, as whole theories; instead, I have brought up a number of points in the context of the different dimensions along which registers can be interpreted. The most important general point seems to me to be this. If we explore the notion that linguistics is a metalanguage.or 'talk about talk' in Firth's wording systematically, we fmd that insights into register variation in language can also be projected one order up in abstraction and be explored as principles concerning register variation in metalanguage. This will invite us to ask, among other things, whether the variations we find across different accounts are essentially metadialectal - reflections of the linguists - or metaregisterial - reflections of the 'task'.

The 'task' is a complex phenomenon; but it may be interpreted in ternis context of situation - the field, tenor, and mode of doing linguistics. If we consider the field, we can note that it includes the 'subject matter' - that


is, here it includes the register of language that is in focus. So we can expect variation in register (within field) to correlate with variation in metaregister (particularly within ideational metalinguistic resources). A good example is the difference in the demands written and spoken registers place on metalanguage - spoken registers require us to expand the metalinguistic resources to make possible dynamic interpretations and representations.

The field is more than 'subject matter'. It is very centrally what's going on in the use of metalanguage - e.g., theory review and development, description, educational· application, [computational] modelling. These fields make different demands on the metalinguistic resources; for instance, educational application requires perspicuity and accessibility of accounts whereas computational modelling demands complete explicitness to en!!ure implementability. I have focussed on the first category, theory review and development with some descriptive excursions as illustrations and a note on descriptive strafegies and tools (Section 7). A number of the contributions in this book are descriptive. Educational application has been a valuable feature of the context of register analysis for a long time and many implications are both implicit and explicit in this book; it would take a whole other chapter to review all the valuable work done in the educational context. Computational modelling is of general value (cf. Fawcett 1980, 1989; Fawcett and Tucker 1989; Matthiessen and Bateman 1991) but has only fairly recently begun to concern itself also with modelling register v:ariation (in particular, in systemic-functional work, Bateman and Paris 1991; Cross 1991; Patten 1980 - cf. Matthiessen and Bateman 1991: Part IV). This adds the option of 'register synthesis' as a complement to 'register analysis' in the study of register and is likely to become increasingly valuable. Cross (1991) is an extensive study of matter cycle texts, combining theoretical and computational modelling to show how variant texts may be generated.

Notes·

1. This is also evident in the modelling of semantics: meanings are derived from general grammatical ones and they are not related to contextual categories. Thus the traditional approach identified formal categories such as number, case, tense and aspect and asked what their signification was. For instance, traditional speech functional categories reflect grammatical distinctions such as declarative vs. interrogative; but they do not embody an interpretation of interaction in context (cf. Halliday 1984).

2. Halliday's theory of the relation between system and text in terms of potentialinstantiation-instance draws on Hjelmslev's (1943) insight about system and process, which was a significant step forward from Saussure's languelparole distinction. It also differs from the Chomskyan distinction between competence and performance (see Halliday 1977). The way we theorize the relationship between the system and the text is critical for register theory and analysis since it will determine the role of the text both as data and as a vehicle of change.


3. Fawcett (1980) does not treat axis as fractal relative to semantics and syntax - semantics is paradigmatic and syntax is syntagm,atic. In what follows, I will rely fairly heavily on the manifestation of paradigmatic organization within both semantics and lexicogrammar. This does not, of course, in any way invalidate Fawcett's variety of systemic theory. It merely means that one has to interpret the situation differently in his system.

4. Register variation is itself an atemporal dimension; but it intersects with potentiality and we can locate registers on the continuum between the general potential and the instance. I will return to this point below in Section 6.

5. In this work, Martin was influenced by Gregory's important work and genre grew out of Gregory's notion of functional tenor, which he had abstracted out of the field, mode and tenor parameters of context of situation (see e.g. Gregory and Carroll 1978).

6. This is similar to the situation with speech function: this interpersonal resource has been experientalized within verbal transitivity and projection, but we take dialogic exchanges rather than the ideational grammar of verbal clauses as the point of departure when we develop an account of speech function (contrast speech act theory, which has relied heavily on the ideational grammar's theory of the interpersonal: cf. Edmonson 1981).

7. This is the idealization noted above - setting up registers, dialects etc. 8. Contrast the limiting case of dialectal variation, ,which is a different language. 9. We should not, of course, take context of culture for granted: we can simply

ask how to relate 'context of situation' to other aspects of the social system we need to identify in a social interpretation of language - social role systems, hierarchic organization, type of 'world view', and so on.

10. However, it seems to me the situation is less problematic if on the one hand one takes as one's social theory a theory such as Bernstein's which is designed to integrate language into the account and on the other hand one is prepared to shunt back and forth between the micro and the macro without treating either as fixed.

11. An obvious example from lexis would be the conflict between 'folk taxonomy' and 'scientific taxonomy': see e.g. Wignell et al. (1987).

12. Note that since the content system is stratified, what is lexicogrammatically common may be semantically uncommon: the same lexicogrammatical resources may be deployed in semantically different ways across registers. An obvious example is the grammatical system of MOOD where the semantic significance of choices may depend on the contextual variable tenor: the semantics of different registers (cf. position (iii) below) may deploy interpersonal metaphor to varying degrees and in different ways to control the semiotic distance between speaker and addressee within tenor.

13. In this particular example, the registerial specification is additive; but it is also perfectly possible that it constitutes an 'abbreviation' of the general system as the examples with PRIMARY TENSE under (i) above where the 0 probabilities 'turn off' particular systemic options - cf. further Section 4.2 below on abbreviated lexicogrammatical systems.

14. Apart from any other considerations, this makes good systemic sense: more delicate systems are more local relative to the system as a whole and delicate variation across registers does thus not entail a global re-organization of the system.

15. This would imply that registers are primary rather than register variation. 16. In fact, it is in any case not yet possible in practice to describe the semantic


system of English as a fully integrated system in the same way as we can describe its grammar (Halliday 1985). However, for certain purposes and limited regions of grammar, we can set up general semantic systems, such as Halliday's (1984) speech functional system (see further Hasan, 1988) and Martin's (in press) discourse semantic systems.

17. Although there- have been attempts outside systemic linguistics, e.g. Longacre's, 1976, generalized grammatical rank scale that extends above sentence to discourse. This is, however, probably more like the kind of internal nesting we fmd with univariate complexes and with Rhetorical Structure Theory (cf. Matthiessen and Thompson 1989) than multivariately organized units on a rank scale.

18. But at the same time, there is a loss of ideational information: for example, while textual information is gained with the opening up of nominal deicticity (this departure - it ... ), ideational information is lost with the loss of verbal deicticity - tense (thus De Klerk's departure is not located in time). Similarly, participant roles may be harder to identify. Thus in De Klerk's move, is De Klerk Medium or Agent? In general, there is a gain in textual information:

. process configurations metaphorically realized as nominal groups (as in De Klerk's departure) can be given textual statuses within the clause and have nominal deixis, so they can be established and tracked as discourse referents.

19. Interpersonal metaphor is not included in Goatly's study. Metaphors of modality are quite common in the corpus, e.g . .I think, I believe, I suppose for probability (cf. Halliday 1985a: Section 10.4).

20. Or rather grammatical systems - the general extension of grammar in delicacy into lexis is still a long way off.

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Name index

Albee 2, 50 An Advancement of Learning 140, 142-3 Anglia Building Society 137-8 Antony and Cleopatra 127 Austin 150, 173

Babel197 Bacon 143 Bakhtin 2, 35, 44-5, 225 Barcan 77, 79, 82, 84, 86, 89, 94, 97,

101, 106 Barnes 274 Barthalomae 71 Barthes 13 Bateman 200,203,229,246,261,275,

283 Bazerman 61, 66, 269 Beckett 2, 47 Benson 281 Benveniste 44 Berg 223 Berger 45, 251 Bernstein 9, 242, 253, 284 Betrayal 46, 51 Birch 2, 26, 35, 39, 44, 46, 241, 251 Black 164 Bloomfield 7, 11-12 Borland's Sprint 183 Borland's Turbo Lightning 186 Boyd 124 Brecht 55 Brook-Rose 116 Burton 152 Butler 71 Byrd 198

Caffarel 244, 249, 256 Calzorlari 201 Candide 133 Carl von Linne 269 Carroll 29, 31-2, 37, 234, 284

Carter 248, 274 Causley 126 Cerri 65 Chiu 30 Chomsky 12-14, 283 Christie 31, 35, 274 CLOC 279, 281 Clyne 172 COBUILD 279, 281 Cohen 127 Collins 66-7 COMMUNAL Project 196, 201, 280-1 Cooper 51-2 Coulthard 152, 231, 238, 256, 274 Crismore 71 Cross 5, 201, 203, 228, 230, 252, 261,

273, 283 Cumming 196

Dahlgren 201, 203 Dante 126 De Beaugrande 1-2, 6, 11-12, 15, 221,

223-4, 248, 268 Derrida 44 Doughty 12 DressIer 12, 16, 18 Dudley Evans 167

Edmondson 284 Eggins 3, 110, 203, 262, 264, 268, 274,

276, 278 Elam 43 Electronic Discourse Analyzer (EDA)

266, 280-1 Ellis 9, 28-9, 31-2, 223 Empson 118-9, 123 Endgame 47 Engelmore 188 Essex 27, 35

Fairclough 36, 57

Documents

Ghadessy Register Analysis