Exploring Discourse Strategies in Social and Cognitive Interaction : Multimodal and cross-linguistic perspectives [1 ed.] 9789027267221, 9789027256676

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Exploring Discourse Strategies in Social and Cognitive Interaction edi t ed by Manuela Romano M. Dolores Porto

John Benjamins Publishing Company

Exploring Discourse Strategies in Social and Cognitive Interaction

Pragmatics & Beyond New Series (P&bns) issn 0922-842X Pragmatics & Beyond New Series is a continuation of Pragmatics & Beyond and its Companion Series. The New Series offers a selection of high quality work covering the full richness of Pragmatics as an interdisciplinary field, within language sciences. For an overview of all books published in this series, please see http://benjamins.com/catalog/pbns

Editor

Associate Editor

Anita Fetzer

Andreas H. Jucker

University of Augsburg

University of Zurich

Founding Editors Jacob L. Mey

Herman Parret

Jef Verschueren

Robyn Carston

Sachiko Ide

Deborah Schiffrin

Thorstein Fretheim

Kuniyoshi Kataoka

Paul Osamu Takahara

John C. Heritage

Miriam A. Locher

University of Southern Denmark

Belgian National Science Foundation, Universities of Louvain and Antwerp

Belgian National Science Foundation, University of Antwerp

Editorial Board University College London University of Trondheim University of California at Los Angeles

Susan C. Herring

Indiana University

Masako K. Hiraga

St. Paul’s (Rikkyo) University

Japan Women’s University Aichi University

Universität Basel

Georgetown University Kobe City University of Foreign Studies

Sandra A. Thompson

Sophia S.A. Marmaridou

University of California at Santa Barbara

Srikant Sarangi

Teun A. van Dijk

University of Athens Aalborg University

Marina Sbisà

University of Trieste

Universitat Pompeu Fabra, Barcelona

Yunxia Zhu

The University of Queensland

Volume 262 Exploring Discourse Strategies in Social and Cognitive Interaction Multimodal and cross-linguistic perspectives Edited by Manuela Romano and M. Dolores Porto

Exploring Discourse Strategies in Social and Cognitive Interaction Multimodal and cross-linguistic perspectives

Edited by

Manuela Romano Universidad Autónoma de Madrid

M. Dolores Porto Universidad de Alcalá

John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdam / Philadelphia

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

doi 10.1075/pbns.262 Cataloging-in-Publication Data available from Library of Congress. isbn 978 90 272 5667 6 (Hb) isbn 978 90 272 6722 1 (e-book)

© 2016 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Company · https://benjamins.com

Table of contents

Introduction Discourse, cognition and society Manuela Romano and María Dolores Porto

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Part I.  Socio-cognitive approach to discourse From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method: On language and cognition as supraindividual phenomena Enrique Bernárdez

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Individual differences and in situ identity marking: Colloquial Belgian Dutch in the reality TV show “Expeditie Robinson” Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

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The persuasive (and manipulative) power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse: A corpus-based analysis of embodied and moral metaphors of austerity in the Portuguese press Augusto Soares da Silva

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Part II.  Discourse strategies in multimodal communication The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse: A digital story as a case study Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

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Multimodal metaphor, narrativity and creativity in TV cosmetics ads Laura Hidalgo-Downing, M. Ángeles Martínez and Blanca Kraljevic-Mujic

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Multimodal discourses of collective memory Małgorzata Fabiszak

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Part III.  Cross-linguistic (English–Spanish) perspectives Exploring specific differences: A cross-linguistic study of English and Spanish civil engineering metaphors Ana Roldán-Riejos

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The use of metaphor and evaluation as discourse strategies in pre-electoral debates: Just about winning votes Mercedes Díez Prados

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A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies in Spanish and English Jane Lugea

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Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

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Index

297

Introduction

Discourse, cognition and society Manuela Romano and María Dolores Porto

University Autónoma de Madrid / University of Alcalá

1. The ‘new’ social turn in cognitive linguistics This volume explores the interaction between discourse, cognition and society.1 The chapters included all show the close, intrinsic relationship between cognitive linguistics and discourse studies, a relationship based mainly on a common approach to the study of language, that of language-in-use, and language as a dynamic, complex and interactive process in which discourse emerges online in real communicative contexts. The studies in this volume do not analyse discourse as a final product, but rather concentrate on discourse strategies, that is, how real discourse is built and interpreted in real interactions. One of the main defining features of the present collection of papers is, thus, the insistence on analysing real data in a wide variety of discourse types and socio-cultural situations, namely, TV reality shows, commercials, memorials, political debates, oral narratives, technical texts and digital stories. This is why the notions of strategy and socio-cognitive interaction are key to the volume, as well as multimodal and cross-linguistic, which are the perspectives chosen for the analysis of the different case studies. In addition, embodiment, metaphor, conceptual integration and creativity are central theoretical concepts in this work. The first keyword defining this volume is discourse strategy. Starting from a general definition of strategy as “plan of action designed to achieve a major or overall aim” (OED), the expression discourse strategy/strategies has been widely used within discourse studies, from discourse analysis (Gumperz 1982; Menéndez 2005), text linguistics (de Beaugrande & Dressler 1981; Bernárdez 1995), and critical discourse analysis (Fairclough 1992; Van Dijk 1993, 1997; Wodak & Meyer 2003), to interactional sociolinguistics (Schiffrin 1994), among others. In this volume, discourse strategy is used in its widest sense, as “all the resources (both verbal 1. This volume has been carried out under the funding of research project FFI2012-30790/ FILO, Spanish Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness. doi 10.1075/pbns.262.01rom © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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and non-verbal) that the speaker of a language consciously uses in order to build and interpret the discourses within the appropriate context, and in order to interact efficiently within communication”.2 This definition has been chosen because it emphasizes three crucial premises related to the usage-­based and dynamic view of discourse followed in this volume, namely the importance of: (i) the specific socio-­cultural context the discourse emerges in, (ii) the speaker’s intentionality or conscious use of language for specific purposes – search for attention or empathy, attempt to emotionally touch the listener, to persuade or influence his or her ideas or behaviour, etc. –, and (iii) the study of non-verbal or less prototypical discourses (pictorial, digital, gestural, etc.). The focus on how real socio-cultural interactions affect discourse is one major point shared by the chapters collected for the volume. Even though the interest in the social aspects of language is not new (see Van Dijk 1985; de Beaugrande 1996; Gontier 2009; and Morales-López 2011 for historical overviews), we can say that discourse studies have undergone a second revival with the recent development of socio-cognitive models of language.3 Since the birth of the field in the late 60s with the emergence of many different but related disciplines and in many different countries (classical rhetoric, French structuralism, functional models of language, pragmatics, anthropology, ethnolinguistics, text linguistics, sociolinguistics, conversational analysis, speech act theory, semiotics, among others) – all interested in meaning and function, rather than syntax and form – discourse studies have not stopped absorbing and blending theoretical models and methodologies, as well as developing new areas of research. But it has been in the last years that the study of discourse, cognition and society has finally become intertwined within cognitive linguistics through the development of a new epistemology and its empirical tools. Within cognitive linguistics, interest in social aspects of language can be traced back to the work of Langacker 1994, 2001; Geeraerts & Grondelaers 1995; Bernárdez 1995; Palmer 1996; Barlow 2000; Brandt & Brandt 2005; among others. Nevertheless, even though cognitive linguists have always advocated for usage-based foundation of language, it is not until the last decade that an increasing number of cognitive linguists – working both on the theoretical and empirical aspects of socio-cognitive approaches to language – have shown a renewed interest in the matter. This ‘new’ social turn within the field has had consequences for both the scope of study of the field and its methodology.

2. Authors’ translation from the Diccionario de Términos Claves de ELE (2008, in Sal-Paz & Maldonado 2009). 3. The origins of language-in-use proposals can be traced back to Aristotle’s Rhetorica.



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First, the new epistemology fostered by the first developments of cognitive linguistics, the idea that almost anything related to language is of interest for the field, has brought the progressive growth and blurring of disciplines and research areas, making the classification of recent work in the field – and in this volume – extremely difficult or even impossible. Metaphor studies, critical discourse analysis, pragmatics, semantic change, sociolinguistics, etc. all seem to overlap nowadays making the umbrella term ‘discourse studies’ extremely useful and convenient.4 In addition, the data analysed have also seen an enormous growth and expansion. New modes and genres are continuously being created, blended and redefined into multimodal semiotic systems, which also push the theoretical and methodological tools in new directions. As Frank (2008) states, the comprehensive, cross-disciplinary character of cognitive linguistics is continuously redefining the limits of linguistics as a discipline, and so, there exists a constant crossing of boundaries that has brought a continuous merging of theoretical and methodological tools. Second, the idea that an understanding of linguistic elements can only emerge in real socio-cognitive contexts has pushed the model a step forward towards the objectivist, realistic foundational premise supported by ‘first generation’ cognitivists (Lakoff & Johnson 1980; Lakoff 1987; Langacker 1987; Talmy 1988) by introducing social aspects of language as theoretical explanatory factors. Factors such as the real, specific linguistic and communicative situation, the socio-cultural and historical context, the intentions of participants, etc. are today at the centre of linguistic research. As Bernárdez (2009) points out, it is important to distinguish usage-based and use-based approaches. The first would coincide with the more abstract interest of cognitive linguists with social aspects of language, and the second, with the analysis of real contexts of use. Finally, but not less important, the social turn in the field has also triggered, in the last decade, the growing acceptance that interpretative readings should be avoided within cognitive linguistics, and that scholars should, instead, look for experimental and corpus-based evidence to establish a more realistic link between linguistic variables and social meaning. If we want to understand what discourse means for its specific users in specific contexts, we need to analyse data in a systematic way. Hypotheses have to be corroborated in real data-driven studies, statistically evaluated and relevant. This is what has been called the ‘empirical turn’ in cognitive linguistics (Kristiansen et al. 2006; Stefanowitsch & Gries 2007; Kristiansen & Dirven 2008; Glynn & Fischer 2010; Pütz, Robinson & Reif 2014). Studies concerned with how to check cognitive hypotheses within natural 4. See, for instance, the new disciplines continuously being created: Cultural Linguistics, Cognitive Sociolinguistics, etc.

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discourse data and corpora (Barlow & Kemmer 2000; Geeraerts, Kristiansen & Peirsman 2010; Speelman, Impe, Spruyt & Geeraerts 2013; Zenner, Kristiansen & Geeraerts, this volume, etc.) are developing fast these days. It is precisely to show the importance of empirically based work that case studies have been favoured in the compilation of chapters in this volume. Within such a broad approach to discourse, which can be summarized in Fasold’s (1990: 65) definition of discourse: “the study of any aspect of language use”, the work included in this volume can be understood in terms of a radial category, whose members share some, but not necessarily all, of the following theoretical concepts: embodiment, multimodality, conceptual integration, metaphor, and creativity – concepts that are still in a continuous process of change and expansion, as evidenced by their application to the different case studies presented in this volume. The notion of embodiment, crucial in cognitive linguistics from its very foundation (Lakoff & Johnson 1980; Langacker 1987) is still an elusive concept with multiple readings. Whereas the work of ‘first generation’ cognitive linguists mainly focused on the bodily, material basis of cognition and language, the concept has evolved towards a broader definition of embodiment that includes not only physical and cognitive, but also social embodiment as the ground for our conceptual and linguistic systems (Rohrer 2006, 2007).5 Thus, ‘second generation’ cognitivists rather focus on how an individual’s knowledge of language is embedded within collective cognition and culture (Ziemke et al. 2007; Frank et al. 2008). It is in this sense that the concept is applied in most of the studies included in the volume, even though the physical environment and bodily experience also play a crucial role in some of them (see Fabiszak’s chapter). As a consequence, new concepts have been integrated in the cognitive framework to account for the new experientialist, socio-cognitive approach to embodiment. A first notion coming from philosophy, psychology and AI is situatedness, one of today’s keywords within the field, as in situated embodiment (Zlatev 1997), social situatedness (Linblom & Ziemke 2002), situated cognition (Smith & Semin 2004) and sociocultural cognition (Sharifian 2008, 2011, 2015), among others.6 Also, coming from morph-dynamic models of language and sociology, are the 5. Rohrer (2007) distinguishes up to twelve different senses in which the term embodiment can be used, which he finally groups into two main clusters: “embodiment as broadly experiential” and “embodiment as the bodily substrate” (p. 31). 6. This shift in the meaning and use of the term ‘embodiment’ is very well summarized in the titles of the two-volume set Body, Language and the Mind. Volume I (by Ziemke et al. 2007), which includes the subtitle Embodiment; whereas the subtitle of Volume II (by Frank et al. 2008) is Sociocultural Situatedness.



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notions of synergetic cognition or active-cognitive approach to language, which considers that language is a product of a socially-conditioned, activity-­driven cognition, an essentially cultural and social object which is then incorporated in individuals (Bernárdez 2008b; Pishwa 2009). This approach, related to Bourdieu’s (1994) ‘habitus’, enables linguists and cognitive scientists to understand the role of social interaction (Bedny, Karwowski & Bedny 2001; Ghassemzadeh 2005) and such fundamental phenomena as linguistic interaction and communication (Müller & Carpendale 2001; Enfield 2009; Sharifian & Jamarani 2013), and the cognitive organisation of discourse and text (Garrod & Pickering 2004) among others. In short, these new concepts are providing socio-cognitive models of discourse or language-in-use with a set of tools that explain the ways in which individual minds and cognitive processes are shaped by their interaction with sociocultural structures and practices by being together with other embodied minds; that is, the relationship between discourse, cognition and society. Multimodality is another key concept in the chapters collected in this volume, partly as a consequence of the insistence on analysing real discourse events, since most discourse events are multimodal and “monomodality in comparison is not an actual quality of texts, but rather a way of thinking about individual semiotic resources once abstracted from the communicative ensembles in which they occur” (Page 2009: 4). Language studies have undergone a major shift to account fully for meaning-making practices (Kress 2010; O’Halloran 2004; Norris 2004) and have shown in the last two decades a renewed interest towards the integrated analysis of the multiple semiotic resources that contribute to the construction of meaning. Consequently, an accurate exploration of discourse strategies would not be complete without taking into account multimodality in order to understand how meaning emerges online by integrating multiple discourses, modes and data. Language is clearly not the only means of sense-making and communication; different non-verbal resources and modes carry different meanings, emotions and attitudes (Bednarek & Martin 2010). In this volume, multimodal discourse stra­ tegies are analysed in a great variety of situations to show how speakers/writers make use of different means – visual, acoustic, linguistic, gestural or even architectural – in order to make their discourse more expressive and persuasive, and how hearers or readers also use any kind of resources at hand to make sense of it. Closely related with the notion of integrating meanings in discourse, conceptual integration (Fauconnier 1985; Fauconnier & Turner 2002 among others) emerges as a powerful explanatory tool, fundamental to cognitive linguistics for the analysis of real multi-layered discourse and particularly for multimodality. In this volume, conceptual integration, or blending, is applied to oral narratives (Lugea, Rodríguez) and to digital stories (Molina & Alonso), not only to explore

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how discourse participants blend linguistic meaning with that from other modes (visual images and videos, gestures, etc.), but also how meaning is constructed online by integrating linguistic and contextual information. Metaphor has been predominant in cognitive linguistics since its very beginnings, but this is another concept that is being redefined within the new social-­ cognitive approaches. The social turn has also arrived for metaphor studies, which have moved or expanded their field of interest from considering metaphor (and metonymy) a creative thought-structuring device (Lakoff & Johnson 1980; Johnson 1987; Gibbs 1994; Kövecses 2002) to understanding it as a creative social-­cultural structuring device, as a need to create a new discourse for a new socio-­cultural and historical situation. Bernárdez (2008a) relates metaphorical creativity with Bourdieu’s (1994) habitus, a concept which helps to explain metaphor as a social and cultural product that is transmitted individually from one generation to another, and which is cognitively integrated in the community in an unconscious way; the principles and guidelines of a culture and community, rather than simple linguistic expressions. Metaphor is thus at the heart of research within the field of socio-cognitive, activity-driven approaches to discourse as real agents of social transformation and reconstruction (Romano 2013, 2015). Besides, and in line with the growing interest in multimodal discourse as stated above, metaphor studies are also focusing more and more on multimodal metaphors (Forceville 2010; Forceville & Urios Aparisi 2009), i.e. those whose target and source are “rendered exclusively or predominantly in two different modes/ modalities” (Forceville & Urios Aparisi 2009: 4) and in metaphor in discourse (Semino 2008; Mussolf & Zinken 2009). Díaz’s, Roldán’s, and Soares’ work in this volume show how recent metaphorical studies have to be conducted in real socio-­ cultural settings and discourses, as well as statistically proven. A last cross-disciplinary notion present in all the chapters in this volume and commonly used in present-day analysis of discourse strategies is that of creativity. In recent years (Carter 2004; Carter & McCarthy 2004; Maybin & Swann 2007; Pennycook 2007, among others) this concept has developed from a vague, romantic view into a more practical, sound theory that regards creativity as a basic process present in any communicative and discursive event, also understood as a collective, negotiated act. In Stenberg’s (1999: 47) words, creativity is “the ability to produce work that is both novel (i.e. original, unexpected) and appropriate (i.e. adaptive concerning task constraint)”. This view of creativity fits in perfectly with the socio-cognitive models, which understand language and discourse as an action-­based system, an adaptive system, which emerges from the interactions taking place in real communicative situations. Socio-cognitive models have provided thus a new notion of discursive creativity, which can be observed and analysed online by means of the immediacy of the new discourses or modes (Twitter,



Discourse, cognition and society

Facebook, etc.) and the enormous possibilities of their technological tools (Porto & Romano 2013; Romano 2013, 2015). The volume also comprises a group of studies with a cross-linguistic Spanish/ English approach. This work constitutes a conscious effort to show case studies in which more than one socio-cultural context is considered in order to demonstrate how discourse strategies differ not only across discourse types and modes, but particularly across languages and cultures. The fact that it is the same two languages/cultures which are compared in four different papers addressing diverse text types – technical, political, narrative – intends to demonstrate the significance of taking into account social, cultural and even historical matters when analysing real discourse events, since the results shown in these four papers are quite diverse depending on the focus of analysis – structural strategies, metaphorical mappings, ideological stance – and the speakers’ purposes – explanatory, persuasive, evaluative, search for empathy, etc. Finally, most authors have combined different functional and cognitive approaches in their analyses. Thus, it is possible to find applications of Conceptual Metaphor Theory, Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration Theory, Appraisal Theory, Multimodal Semiotics, Narratology and Narrative Theory, Text World Theory or Critical Discourse Analysis in different combinations, which all contribute to a thorough exploration of the diverse discourse strategies that come into work in real interactions. In short, even though the present volume presents only a small portion of the work being conducted today within socio-cognitive approaches to discourse, it reflects the still growing inter-disciplinary trend of the field, and provides a closer look at the relationship between the cognitive mechanisms of discourse processing. i.e. discourse strategies, and the discourse community, that is, the actual collective construction of meaning in specific discourse situations. A great variety of discourse types and discursive situations are shown, but still there is a set of common theoretical and analytical tools shared by these works, namely, the view of discourse as an active, dynamic process, the essential role of context – in the broadest sense of the term – in discourse analysis, the need for multilingual, cross-linguistic studies, the pervasiveness of multimodality and creativity in real discourse and the value of conceptual integration and metaphor as tools to explain the process of meaning construction, the need for an ‘action-­based’ approach to language and discourse, as well as the general acceptance that cognitive approaches to discourse need to be corroborated empirically and statistically. The main goal of this volume is thus to further contribute to the cross-­ disciplinary dialogue initiated between cognitive linguistics and discourse analysis; that is, to bridge the gap between the more mental and social approaches to language and discourse from a socio-cognitive perspective. The usage-­based

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foundation of cognitive linguistics has clearly become use-based, as the social and interactional issues have gained ground within the field with the intention of understanding not only language and cognition, but also real social structures and behaviour, and with the intention of making explanations empirically relevant. Discourse studies are still growing hand in hand with the socio-cognitive models and still have much to say about the new emergent discourses, and the relationships between discourse structures, cognitive or mental structures and society, as this volume shows. 2. The chapters in this volume As pointed out above, all the studies collected in this volume share a choice of the concepts presented in the previous section and so constitute a radial category, with a different emphasis on one or another of the key notions (embodiment, multimodality and creativity, and cross-linguistic analysis). It is this difference with respect to the focus of research which we have considered in order to present them in three main sections. It goes without saying, though, that most of them overlap and could also be included in any of the three sections distinguished. The first section includes the chapters by Bernárdez, by Zenner et al. and by Soares. The three of them strongly emphasize the role of situatedness in discourse, that is, the need for analysing real case-studies in context. Bernardez’s work gives a first detailed analysis of an allegedly metaphorical expression – this surgeon is a butcher –, which has been a favourite for cognitive linguists for decades, and has been largely discussed and analysed as a novel metaphor. The author reviews the two more influential articles on the blend, those by Grady et al. (1999) and by Brandt & Brandt (2005) and concludes that both of them have missed an important point: the historical, cultural and social context that has created a stable link between butchers and surgeons for over two thousand years. Consequently, Bernárdez warns of some common methodological mistakes in Cognitive Linguistics and of the dangers of studying language “in a solipsistic way”, i.e. without considering the historical and socio-cultural context in which discourse is produced. He also looks back on similar warnings as provided by linguists, as much as by philosophers and psychologists, that had already claimed long ago that language does not work in isolation and always depends on the interaction with others. His conclusions are in fact a checklist that all cognitive linguists should take into account in their studies. In very much the same vein, the paper by Zenner, Kristiansen and Geeraerts insists on the importance of contextualization and of considering the actual complexity of a linguistic community. They warn cognitive linguists against the



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“monolectal fallacy” that ignores socio-lectal variation and tends to pay attention only to written standard varieties. Moreover, the authors call attention to the value of quantitative analysis in order to reach reliable results as for inter- and intra-­speaker variation. Following these guidelines, the chapter presents a detailed analysis of individual speakers’ variation as a strategy for identifying with a group in the frame of a gamedoc.7 The research focuses on two specific linguistic features: a phonemic one, below the level of awareness, and a morphological one that speakers are usually more aware of. Also, the study includes interactional and personal variables that are frequently neglected, such as the speakers’ profiles in the game as strategist or non-strategist players, depending on their “competitive spirit”, as well as situational features where speakers may decide to use “accommodation strategies” for the making up of the group. In a number of detailed tables, analyses show that the register shifts in the strategist speakers’ speech constitute a deliberate strategy to win the game. Once again, the notions of embodiment and situatedness become most relevant in the research as the authors claim an “extension of interactional sociolinguistics” towards a “higher-order” interaction between situation- and speaker- related features in sociolinguistics. Situatedness is also central in Soares’s work on austerity metaphors in Portugal. Following a corpus-based approach to the analysis of the metaphors in the press over two separated time periods in 2011 and 2013, the author provides empirical evidence that mental representations are constructed in discursive social interaction and also, that those mental representations serve a persuasive, manipulative purpose. The difference between the metaphors used in these two periods reveal a significant change in the way in which austerity policies were conceptualised by Portuguese people. Thus, in the first period, the metaphors identified are grounded in moral cultural models (good student, sacrifice, diet for an obese body) in order to give austerity and drastic cuts a positive moral connotation. On the contrary, the metaphors in the second period present austerity in a more negative sense: as a heavy burden, a painful therapy and even as war or death. This change reflects the perception of the Portuguese that austerity policies were wrong and so protests against them increased notably. The combination of Conceptual Metaphor Theory and Critical Discourse Analysis provides evidence that the austerity metaphors in Portugal are socially embodied, grounded in cultural, ideological and moral values, which make them an instrument for manipulation. The second group of chapters all share a major concern with the analysis of multimodal discourse. Digital stories, TV commercials and architectural 7. A TV reality game where different participants compete in physical, intellectual and social challenges.

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memorials are the notably disparate kinds of discourse selected as case study in the three articles presented in this section. However, their results seem to converge in similar conclusions about the leading role of social interaction for the construction of meaning. Molina and Alonso examine the “micro and macro strategies” used by both producers and interpreters of a digital story in order to construct meaning. By combining a multimodal functional analysis and a cognitive oriented one, the authors first analyse the three modes separately – the verbal representation, the visual-­spatial representation and the audio representation. Next, they unravel the cognitive processes by which these representations or mental spaces are integrated in order to construct a “global, emergent meaning” that goes far beyond the mere addition of the information provided by the three modes. According to Molina and Alonso, the same strategies come to work at a micro level, when every image is displayed accompanied by words and music, and at a macro level contributing to the general structure and coherence of the story. Naturally, a special section is devoted to the study of multimodal metaphors, which also operate at both levels, so evidencing their “dynamic and highly contextualized character”. Finally, the combination of the multimodal functional approach and the Conceptual Integration Theory reveals how close both frameworks are, since they both describe similar processes of meaning construction. Similarly, Hidalgo-Downing, Kraljevic and Martínez present TV commercials as an instance of multimodal narratives. As in the previous paper, the authors also choose to combine two different frameworks of analysis, examining cosmetics ads through the interaction of a multimodal analysis and a narrative approach. The authors point out that “the TV ads in this study seem to present the advertised product as the external event causing changes of state in the multimodally projected storyworld”. Thus, several features of images – colour, brightness, angles, shots… and sound – loudness, pitch, rhythm… are considered and matched with textual features and narrative organization. Multimodal metaphors also play a leading role in their study, as a device to summarize the main point of the ad and its potential evaluation. The results demonstrate consistent differences in the multimodal resources employed by those ads that start their narratives with the end-point of the story and those which maintain the chronological order of events. Persuasive strategies are further disclosed in the more detailed analysis of four of these commercials that expose the way in which the audience is “pushed” into the acceptance of the product. The chapter by Fabiszak introduces an unusual multimodal discourse analysis, as her case studies are architectural Holocaust memorials. Fabiszak explores not only the interaction between verbal and visual modes, but also how “the change in the dominant discourse strategies affected the design of the memorials”, that is,



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the way in which the socio-cultural context influences the design and interpretation of these memorials. Once more, the author combines a cognitive framework of analysis, namely Conceptual Metaphor Theory and Image Schemata, with a functional one, that of Critical Discourse Analysis. Unsurprisingly, the notions of embodiment and situatedness are recurrent in this analysis as the meaning construction is only possible when the audience physically enters and moves around the memorials, which are both culturally and geographically situated in extermination sites. The physical experiences of narrowness, roughness, light, coldness, etc. are the source domains of metaphorical projections that allow the visitors to form an empathetic bond with the victims of the Holocaust. Besides, the different dates of design and construction of the monuments evidence the way in which those meanings interact with the socio-cultural contexts. The last group of chapters is formed by those which have chosen a cross-­ linguistic perspective (English-Spanish) in their exploration of discourse strategies. Oral narratives, political debates and technical texts are the data for these studies. The fact that they all examine the same two languages is also enlightening, as it is possible to observe how the same cultural contexts can influence discourse in different ways. The first two papers in this section focus on metaphors and the two last on the narrative structure of oral narratives. Roldán analyses zoomorphic metaphorical mappings in Civil Engineering terminology; more specifically she deals with the fact that visual images, i.e. external appearance that resembles animals or parts of animals, prompt the metaphorical projections reflected in the technical terminology. In spite of the apparent universality of such an approach, the results of her contrastive analyses suggest that the correspondence between terms in both languages is not systematic. In her research, the author considers the special features of the Civil Engineering discourse community, as well as some socio-cognitive aspects of this specific discourse common to English and Spanish, such as the overarching metaphor an engineering structure is a living being, which obviously leads to the more specific animal-based mappings, both metaphorical and metonymical, considered in the analysis – cracked pavement is an alligator’ skin or an excavating machine is a mole. Interestingly, the author concludes from her study that names of animals for machines and tools are more common in English, whereas in Spanish it is the names of parts of animals – paws, nails, feathers, wings – which are more frequent. However, this has not always been the case and she refers to previous studies that claim that more animal names were used in Spanish in the 16th century that have now become obsolete. Thus, she suggests that cultural and historical reasons could account for the terminological variation between English and Spanish.

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For her contrastive analysis of metaphors in political discourse, Díez draws on a combination of Conceptual Metaphor Theory, Critical Discourse Analysis and Appraisal Theory. The author analyses in detail, both quantitatively and qualitatively, the metaphorical expressions of economy and government used by the two main opponents for the 2011 General Election in Spain. Next, she compares the results with similar metaphors in an American pre-electoral debate between Barack Obama and John McCain in 2008. It is noteworthy that her results on two real discourse events contradict the classical view first posed by Lakoff (1996/2002) that right-wing parties favour the strict parent metaphor against the nurturant parent usually associated with the left-wing. Moreover, similarities and differences can be found in both debates, as a consequence of similarities and differences in their contexts. Both Spain and USA were suffering a profound economic crisis, but American society was particularly concerned at the time by the war in Iraq and this circumstance influenced the topic of discourse and its metaphors. Curiously enough, similarities between the metaphorical expressions used by the candidates seem to depend more on their actual position, i.e. in Government or in opposition, than on their ideological traits. In this work, metaphors reveal a powerful evaluative device in political discourse in order to present themselves as the best solution, but, as Díez points out, it is their purpose, and not their political agenda that points the way. In the next chapter, Lugea compares temporal world building strategies in English and Spanish oral narratives. She combines Text World Theory and Mental Spaces Theory in order to account for the mental representations of temporal events in discourse. These representations are influenced by context, including all the experiential and cultural knowledge that participants in discourse bring for the joint construction of the meaning. Her comprehensive analysis takes into account different varieties of both languages, namely British and American English on one side and Peninsular and Latin American Spanish on the other. Among the differences that Lugea observes in her analysis, it is particularly interesting the way in which English speakers use a more subjective point of view in their narratives, often featuring themselves in the narration to include their perspective on it, whereas Spanish speakers show a more extensive access to the character’s mental states and thought processes, which makes them more involved in the story to the point of predicting future events. In addition, the American English and Peninsular Spanish preference for the present as anchor tense illustrates their tendency to use tenses in “creative and empathetic ways” rather than purely temporally deictic ones. Such results suggest that the differences between varieties have more to do with historical, socio-cultural features than with merely linguistic ones. Gestures are the object of analysis of the last chapter in this volume, by Rodríguez, particularly the way in which gestures structure two oral narratives,



Discourse, cognition and society

one by a British speaker and one by a Spanish one. Mental Spaces Theory, both as applied to narratives and also for the analysis of gestures, becomes a useful analytical tool to examine the way in which speakers use gestures to guide their listeners through the fragmented unfolding of the oral narratives. First, the different fragments or narrative spaces that compose each narrative are distinguished. Next, those fragments are matched with the gestures employed by the speakers to signal shifts between those fragments or segments. Finally, the comparison of both narratives shows that the Spanish speaker tends to use gestures in order to mark the structure of the narrative, whereas the British one is more concerned with highlighting the most relevant ideas or events in the story, using gestures as attentional devices. Rather than drawing general conclusions from her analysis, the author intends to suggest a fruitful field of research and to present some useful analytical tools for this kind of comparative studies. All in all, this volume intends to contribute to a more comprehensive understanding of discourse studies through a detailed analysis of the specific strategies that participants bring into play. For this purpose, a multidisciplinary approach is proposed that combines theories and methodologies from Conceptual Metaphor Theory, Critical Discourse Analysis, Multimodality, Narratology, Appraisal Theory, Sociolinguistics, etc. Furthermore, the emphasis made by the authors on analysing real data in specific socio-cultural interactions, as well as the cognitive perspective shared by all the studies, match the requirements of the new trends in Discourse Analysis, as put forward by Van Dijk (2014), by considering the three dimensions of discourse: discursive, cognitive and social (political, cultural and historical). Socio-cognitive approaches to language and discourse provide the flexible framework required to integrate these three dimensions, as well as to break down the theoretical and methodological frontiers still present in the field.

References Barlow, Michael. 2000. “Usage, Blends, and Grammar.” In Usage-Based Models of Language, ed by Michael Barlow and Suzanne Kemmer, 315–345. Stanford: CSLI Publications. Barlow, Michael and Suzanne Kemmer (eds). 2000. Usage-Based Models of Language. Stanford: CSLI Publications. Bednarek, Monika and James R. Martin (eds). 2010. New Discourse on Language: Functional Perspectives on Multimodality, Identity, and Affiliation. London: Continuum. Bedny, George, Karwowski Waldemar, and Marina Bedny. 2001. “The Principle of Unity of Cognition and Behavior: Implications of Activity Theory for the Study of Human Work.” International Journal of Cognitive Ergonomics 5 (4): 401–420. doi: 10.1207/S15327566IJCE0504_3 Bernárdez, Enrique. 1995. Teoría y Eepistemología del Texto. Madrid: Cátedra.

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Bernárdez, Enrique. 2008a. El Lenguaje como Cultura: Una Crítica del Discurso sobre el Lenguaje [Language as Culture: A Critical Approach to the Discourse of Language]. Madrid: Alianza Editorial. Bernárdez, Enrique. 2008b. “Collective Cognition and Individual Activity: Variation, Language and Culture.” In Body, Language and Mind. Vol. 2: Sociocultural Situatedness, ed. by Roslyn M. Frank, René Dirven, Tom Ziemke and Enrique Bernárdez, 137–166. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Bernárdez, Enrique. 2009. “Algunas consideraciones contra el individualismo esencialista en las lingüísticas cognitivas [Some considerations against essentialist individualism in cognitive linguistics].” In La Lingüística como reto Epistemológico y como Acción Social [Language as an Epistemological Challenge and as Social Action], ed. by Montserrat Veyrat, and Enrique Serra, 1–10. Madrid: Arco. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1994. Raisons pratiques. Sur la théorie de l’action [Practical reason. On the Theory of Action]. Paris. Éditions de Seuil. Brandt, Line and Per A. Brandt. 2005. “Making Sense of a Blend. A Cognitive-Semiotic Approach to Metaphor.” Annual Review of Cognitive Linguistics 3: 216–249.  doi:  10.1075/arcl.3.12bra

Carter, Ronald. 2004. Language and Creativity. The Art of Common Talk. London: Routledge. Carter, Ronald A. and Michael J. McCarthy. 2004. “Talking Creating: Interactional language, Creativity and Context.” Applied Linguistics 25 (1): 62–88. doi: 10.1093/applin/25.1.62 De Beaugrande, Robert. A. and Wolfgang U. Dressler. 1981. Introduction to Text Linguisitics. London: Longman. De Beaugrande, Robert. 1996. “The Story of Discourse Analysis”. In Introduction to Discourse Analysis, ed. by Teun A. Van Dijk, 35–62. London: Sage. Enfield, Nick. J. 2009. “Relationship of Thinking and Human Pragmatics.” Journal of Pragmatics 41: 60–78. doi: 10.1016/j.pragma.2008.09.007 Fairclough, Norman. 1992. Discourse and Social Change. Cambridge: Polity Press. Fasold, Ralph. 1990. The Sociolinguistics of Language. Oxford: Blackwell. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1994/1985. Mental Spaces: Aspects of Meaning Construction in Natural Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi: 10.1017/CBO9780511624582 Fauconnier, Gilles and Mark Turner. 2002. The Way We Think: Conceptual Blending and the Mind’s Hidden Complexities. New York: Basic Books. Forceville, Charles and Eduardo Urios-Aparisi (eds). 2009. Multimodal Metaphor. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. doi: 10.1515/9783110215366 Forceville, Charles. 2010. “Why and How Study Metaphor, Metonymy, and other Tropes in Multimodal Discourse?” In Comunicação, Cognição e Media Vol. I, ed. by Augusto Soares da Silva, José C. Martins, Luísa Magalhães, and Miguel Gonçalves, 41–60. Braga: Aletheia/ Associação Científica e Cultural, Faculdade de Filosofia, Universade Católica Portuguesa. Frank, Roslyn M., René Dirven, Ton Ziemke and Enrique Bernárdez (eds.). 2008. Body, Language and Mind. Vol. 2: Sociocultural Situatedness. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Garrod, Simon and Martin J. Pickering. 2004. “Why is Conversation so Easy?” TRENDS in Cognitive Sciences 8 (1): 8–11. doi: 10.1016/j.tics.2003.10.016 Geeraerts, Dirk and Stefan Grondelaers. 1995. “Looking back at Anger: Cultural traditions and metaphorical patterns.” In Language and the Cognitive Construal of the World, ed. by John R. Taylor and Robert E. MacLaury, 153‐179. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.



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Geeraerts, Dirk, Gitte Kristiansen and Yves Peirsman (eds). 2010. Advances in Cognitive Sociolinguistics. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. doi: 10.1515/9783110226461 Ghassemzadeh, Habibollah. 2005. “Vygotsky’s Mediational Psychology: A New Conceptualization of Culture, Signification and Metaphor.” Language Sciences 27 (3): 281–300.  doi:  10.1016/j.langsci.2004.04.003

Gibbs, Raymond. 1994. The Poetics of the Mind: Figurative Thought, Language and Understanding. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Glynn, Dylan and Kerstin Fischer (eds). 2010. Quantitative Methods in Cognitive Semantics: Corpus-driven approaches. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.  doi:  10.1515/9783110226423

Gontier, Nathalie. 2009. “The Origin of the Social Approach in Language and Cognitive Research Exemplified by Studies in the Origin of Language.” In Language and Social Cognition. Expression of the Social Mind, ed by Hanna Pishwa, 25–46. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Grady, Joseph E., Todd Oakley and Seana Coulson. 1999. “Blending and Metaphor.” In Metaphor in Cognitive Linguistics, ed. by Gerard Steen and Raymond Gibbs, 101–124. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. doi: 10.1075/cilt.175.07gra Gumperz, John J. 1982. Discourse Strategies. Cambridge (MA): Cambridge University Press.  doi:  10.1017/CBO9780511611834

Johnson, Mark. 1987. The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination and Reason. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Kövecses, Zoltan. 2002. Metaphor: A practical Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kress, Gunther. 2010. Multimodality. A Social Semiotic Approach to Contemporary Communication. London: Routledge. Kristiansen, Gitte, Dirven, René and Francisco Ruiz de Mendoza (eds). 2006. Applications of Cognitive Linguistics: Foundations and Fields of Application. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Kristiansen, Gitte and René Dirven (eds). 2008. Cognitive Sociolinguistics: Language Variation, Cultural Models, Social Systems. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.  doi:  10.1515/9783110199154

Lakoff, George. 1987. Women, Fire and Dangerous Things. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.  doi:  10.7208/chicago/9780226471013.001.0001

Lakoff, George. 1996. Moral Politics. How Liberals and Conservatives Think. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lakoff, George and Mark Johnson. 1980. Metaphors we Live By. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Langacker, Ronald. 1987. Foundations of Cognitive Grammar, Vol.1: Theoretical Prerequisites. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Langacker, Ronald. 1994. “Culture, Cognition, and Grammar.” In Language Contact and Language Conflict, ed. by Martin Pütz, 25–53. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. doi: 10.1075/z.71.02lan Langacker, Ronald. 2001. “Discourse in Cognitive Grammar.” Cognitive Linguisitics 12 (2): 143–188. Lindblom, Jessica and Tom Ziemke. 2002. “Social Situatedness of Natural and Artificial Intelligence: Vigotsky and Beyond.” Adaptive Behaviour 11 (2): 79–96.  doi:  10.1177/10597123030112002

Maybin, Janet and Joan Swann (eds). 2006. The Art of English. Everyday Creativity. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave MacMillan.

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Menéndez, Salvio M. 2005. “¿Qué es una estrategia discursiva? [What is a discourse strategy?].” In Teorías Críticas de la Literatura y la Lingüística. Debates Actuales [Critical Theories of Literature and Linguistics. Current Debates], ed. by Susana Santos and Jorge Panesi. Buenos Aires: Facultad de Filosofía y Letras [CD-ROM]. Morales-López, Esperanza. 2011. “Hacia dónde va el análisis del discurso [Where is discourse analysis heading to?].” Revista Elctrónica de Estudios Filológicos 21. https://www.um.es/ tonosdigital/znum21/secciones/estudios-21-discurso.htm (April 22, 2015). Müller, Ulrich and Jeremy I. M. Carpendale. 2001. “The Role of Social Interaction in Piaget’s Theory: Language for Social Cooperation and Social Cooperation for Language.” New Ideas in Psychology 18 (2–3): 139–156. doi: 10.1016/S0732-118X(00)00004-0 Musolff, Andreas and Joerg Zinken (eds). 2009. Metaphor and Discourse. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. doi: 10.1057/9780230594647 Norris, Sigrid. 2004. Analyzing Multimodal Interaction: A Methodological Framework. London: Routledge. O’Halloran, Kay L. 2004. Multimodal Discourse Analysis: Systemic Functional Perspectives. London: Continuum. Palmer, Gary B. 1996. Towards a Theory of Cultural Linguistics. Austin: University of Texas. Page, Ruth (ed). 2009. New Perspectives on Narrative and Multimodality. London: Routledge. Pennycook, Alastair. 2007. “The Rotation gets Thick. The Constraints get Thin’: Creativity, Recontextualization, and Difference.” Journal of Applied Linguistics 28 (4): 579–596.  doi:  10.1093/applin/amm043

Pishwa, Hanna. 2009. Language and Social Cognition. Expression of the Social Mind. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. doi: 10.1515/9783110216080 Porto, M. Dolores and Manuela Romano. 2013. “Newspaper Metaphors: Re-using Metaphors for New Purposes.” Metaphor & Symbol 28 (1): 60–73. doi: 10.1080/10926488.2013.744572 Pütz, Martin, Robinson, Justyna A. and Monika Reif (eds). 2014. Cognitive Sociolinguistics: Social and Cultural Variation in Cognition and Language Use. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  doi:  10.1075/bct.59

Rohrer, Tim. 2006. “Three Dogmas of Embodiment: Cognitive Linguistics as a Cognitive Science.” In Cognitive Linguistics: Current Applications and Future Perpectives, ed. by Gitte Kristiansen, Michel Achard, René Dirven and Francisco Ruiz de Mendoza, 119–146. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Rohrer, Tim. 2007. “The Body in Space: Dimensions of Embodiment.” In Body, Language and Mind, Vol 1: Embodiment, ed. by Tom Ziemke, Jordan Zlatev, and Roslyn M. Frank, 339– 377. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Romano, Manuela. 2013. “Situated-Instant Metaphors: Creativity in 15M Slogans.” Metaphor and the Social World (Special Issue: Metaphorical Creativity across Modes) 3 (2): 241–260. Romano, Manuela. 2015. “La protesta social como ‘laboratorio’ de creatividad metafórica [Social protest as a ‘laboratory’ of metaphorical creativity].” Discourso y Sociedad 9 (1–2): 41–65. Sal-Paz, Julio C. and Silvia D. Maldonado. 2009. “Estrategias discursivas: un abordaje terminológico [Discourse strategies: A terminological approach].” Espéculo: Revista de Estudios Literarios 43: 1–16. Schiffrin, Deborah. 1994. Approaches to Discourse. Oxford: Blackwell. Semino, Elena. 2008. Metaphor in Discourse. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.



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Sharifian, Farzad. 2008. “Distributed, Emergent Cultural Cognition, Conceptualization and Language.” In Body, Language and Mind. Vol. 2: Sociocultural Situatedness. ed. by Roslyn M. Frank, René Dirven, Tom Ziemke, and Enrique Bernárdez, 109–136. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Sharifian, Farzad. 2011. Cultural Conceptualizations and Language: Theoretical Framework and Applications. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. doi: 10.1075/clscc.1 Sharifian, Farzad. 2015. “Cultural Linguistcs.” In The Routledge Handbook of Language and Culture, ed. by Farzad Sharifian, 473–492. London: Routledge. Sharifian, Farzad and Maryam Jamarani. 2013. Language and Intercultural Communication in the New Era. London: Routledge. Smith, Eliot R. and Gün R. Semin. 2004. “Socially Situated Cognition: Cognition in its Social Context.” Advances in Experimental Social Psychology 36: 53–117.  doi:  10.1016/S0065-2601(04)36002-8

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Van Dijk, Teun A. (ed). 1985. Handbook of Discourse Analysis. Vol. I: Disciplines of Discourse. London: Academic Press. Van Dijk, Teun A. 1993. Elite Discourse and Racism. London: Sage. doi: 10.4135/9781483326184 Van Dijk, Teun A. (ed). 1997. Discourse Studies. A Multidisciplinary Introduction. London: Sage. Van Dijk, Teun A. 2014. “Cincuenta años de estudios del discurso [Fifty years of Discourse studies].” Discurso & Sociedad 9 (1–2): 15–32. Wodak, Ruth and Michael Meyer (eds). 2001. Methods of Critical Analysis. London: Sage. Ziemke, Tom, Jordan Zlatev and Roslyn M. Frank (eds). 2007 Body, Language and Mind, Vol. 1: Embodiment. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Zlatev, Jordan. 1997. Situated Embodiment: Studies in the Emergence of Spatial Meaning. Stockholm: Gotab.

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Part I

Socio-cognitive approach to discourse

From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method On language and cognition as supraindividual phenomena Enrique Bernárdez

University Complutense de Madrid

The study of metaphors and blends deals frequently with isolated, acontextualised examples from the English language. Through them certain cognitive processes are said to be identified and such processes are allegedly of universal value and characteristic of the human mind at large. This chapter first examines a well-known metaphor or blend, This surgeon is a butcher! and argues that the analyses based on “solipsistic” individual cases are principally incorrect. A brief review of the need to take into account the aspects left out in mainstream Cognitive Linguistics leads to the identification of a number of methodological flaws in the standard procedures and to the necessary changes to be made. Keywords: cognitive linguistics, socio-historic cognition, abyssal thinking, metaphor, blending, linguistic method

1. This surgeon is a butcher! Let us begin with the brief analysis of a method of study much used in Cognitive Linguistics (CL) when dealing with metaphors. In the words of the Estonian floklorist Krikmann, In cognitive metaphor theory the amount of analyzable empirical material is reduced to a quite small number of favourite examples, reiterating tens or hundreds of times and wandering from works to works again and again. There are the favourite examples of blends as well.  (2007: 54)

Whereas Krikmann’s essay deals primarily with the expression diggin’s one’s grave, I shall devote the first section of this chapter to the much repeated metaphoric expression This surgeon is a butcher!. doi 10.1075/pbns.262.02ber © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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I shall not enter into the “technical” details of the discussion, which are sufficiently well known, and shall limit my comments to a few basic features found in two papers devoted to it, with the purpose of highlighting some traits of this type of analysis which I consider to be inadequate. 1.1

Grady et al.’s analysis

The two analyses are fairly different, although they share some significant theoretical viewpoints as well. The first one (Grady et al. 1999) can be considered to represent the standard, mainstream interpretation and the most frequent method used in the analysis of metaphors and blends until recently: a method which studies the meaning of the words involved (butcher, surgeon) in isolation, refers to their “primary”, “objective” meaning and tries to find a way of putting both meanings together. The interpretation Grady et al. base their analysis on is the semantic intepretation of the expression put forward in an unpublished paper by T. Veale (1996), according to which this sentence is a statement about an incompetent surgeon. They claim that the analysis in terms of Conceptual Metaphor Theory fails to provide a reason for the equation “incompetent surgeon = butcher”, as butchers are usually competent at what they do. They introduce the main concepts of Blending Theory and posit a much more complex explanation using four spaces instead of CMT’s two domains: a first input space including information on the role, identity, tools, goals and means of a surgeon; a second input space with the equivalent information on butchers; a generic space with the abstract elements included in both input spaces, and a blended space with the concrete details of both inputs. A mismatch occurs: the surgeon’s goal is healing but the means used belong to the butcher’s space: butchery. Therefore, the surgeon is incompetent because he acts as a butcher, not as a surgeon. Note that at no point in their analysis do Grady et al. include any reference to other possible meanings of both words, or to the possibility that the expression may be understood differently; they write: “Since the blend is probably novel at the time it is uttered, this example illustrates the conception of blending as an on-­line, real-­time process that creates new meaning through the juxtaposition of familiar material.” The alleged novelty of the blend will be at the centre of my discussion. 1.2

Brandt & Brandt’s analysis

Our second example of analysis is the cognitive semiotic interpretation by Line Brandt and Per Aage Brandt (2005) which follows a fairly different path, that I summarise as follows using the authors’ own words in the abstract (p. 216):



From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method

We attempt to reconstruct the meaning of the butcher-surgeon metaphor by giving a step-by-step description of the cognition involved in understanding an occurrence of the metaphoric expression […]. It is argued that examples of expressive blends, such as metaphor, need to be accounted for in semiotic terms, since they occur in – intersubjective as well as private – communication, which is essentially semiotic in nature.

Instead of the three spaces mapped into the blended space, Brandt & Brandt (p.  239) use a more complex format: a presentation space with the butcher, the activity to cut and the object of cutting, i.e., meat; a reference space, with the surgeon, the activity to cut, the patient and the result of the surgeon’s activity on the patient: a scar. These two spaces blend or merge into a virtual space with “surgery on patient virtually performed by a butcher.” An additional – and fairly complex − semiotic space is then combined with the two initial spaces and the virtual space leading to the metaphor, whereby the “surgeon is criticized for butchering the patient.” The semiotic space, essential in this approach, includes the situation in which communication takes place, the participants, the speaker’s intentions, etc. That is, they see this expression as an utterance, as the result of intersubjective communication, as part of a discourse, not as an isolated, autonomous “mental state” in the mind of the speaker. On the other hand, remember that for Grady et al. (in the quote above), the speaker utters the expression, but neither the fact of uttering nor the necessary presence of some interlocutor(s) in a certain situation seems to play any role whatsoever. In Brandt & Brandt’s approach not one single speaker is involved, but a number of them in interaction, and the fact that interaction exists has necessarily to be taken into account if we want to understand the meaning of This surgeon is a butcher! and why it can be used in certain conditions with the particular meaning of accusing the surgeon to be, in one way or another, a bad professional. The same is found in another approach to metaphor from the standpoint of language in use, i.e., discourse or text (Steen 2004, 2008), where context, participants, goals of communication, cooperation, etc., are seen as essential to the production and interpretation of metaphors. Musolff (2012: 301) explicitly claims that “discursive-­ pragmatic factors as well as sociolinguistic variation have to be taken into account in order to make cognitive analyses more empirically and socially relevant.” Also in Fusaroli, Gangopadhyay and Tylén’s (2014: 34) view, the standard forms of approaching language in terms of an individual’s activity neglect the fact of “language as something we do together, as an intersubjective dialogical activity.” Brandt & Brandt’s analysis shares with many linguists and cognitive scientists the view of language as embedded in a situation, as a form of interaction. A view that does not seem to be endorsed by mainstream metaphor and blend analysis. However, in both analyses another element is left out of consideration.

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1.3

Is the blend/metaphor really “novel”?

The metaphor is seen as a creation of the speaker, as something novel, and its interpretation is based on the first meaning of the words as found in any dictionary. For instance, The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, defines butcher thus: “1. a. One whose trade is to slaughter large tame animals and sell their flesh.” This definition of butcher does not include anything that might be useful when we want to disqualify a surgeon, thence the problem these papers tried to solve. The speaker (perhaps an ideal speaker-listener in the Chomskyan sense) builds the metaphor or blends the concepts involved and uses the result with a certain goal in mind. But is the metaphor or blend new?, are things just as simple as both analyses show? Remember the quote above, according to which “this example illustrates the conception of blending as an on-line, real-time process that creates new meaning through the juxtaposition of familiar material.” 1.3.1 Butcher in the dictionaries of English and other languages A central point of Blending Theory is dealt with in this type of analysis, according to Grady and colleagues. It allegedly exemplifies some important features of the model: blending is an on-line, real-time process that creates new meaning. But the claim that the blend is novel should be proved, not taken for granted; similarly, it is necessary to prove that the speaker in fact creates new meaning in an on-line, real-time process. If we do not stop at the first meaning of butcher in the dictionary, what do we find? The Shorter Oxford includes the following: “b. fig. A ‘man of blood’; a brutal murderer 1528. †2. An executioner… 1494.” The same “figured” meaning appears as points 2 and 4 in the Collins Cobuild: “2. If you call a man a butcher, you mean that he has committed a lot of cruel murders. 4. If someone butchers people, they kill them cruelly.” Further back in time, Samuel Johnson’s dictionary (1843 edition) includes the following definition: “Butcher. One that kills animals to sell their flesh. Sidney. One delighted with blood. Locke.” As for the Webster’s Dictionary, butcher has as the second sense “2. A bloody or cruel murderer.” 1 As butcher is a French loanword, it may be interesting to see that the same meanings exist in French (Larousse Dictionnaire du Français Contemporain; the meaning in point is in italics): “Boucher. 2º Homme cruel et sanguinaire.” The same happens in Italian; according to the Garzanti Dictionary, the verb macellare also means: “2. uccidere, massacrare un gran numero di persone [to kill,

1. The New International Webster’s Comprehensive Dictionary of the English Language. Naples (USA), Trident Press, 1999.



From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method

to massacre a large number of people]”; as for the noun macellaio, “butcher” an interesting detail is added: “2. (fig.) chirurgo incapace” (incompetent surgeon).2 The noun macellaio and the verb macellare are derived from a Latin word that is itself a loanword from the Greek; it is a fairly obvious metonymy: the place where the activity is carried out, viz. the market (μάκελλος, also Neuter, μάκελλον) for the person carrying out the activity (It. macello is the slaughterhouse). Latin abandoned its older term based on the word for meat, carnifex, because it had come to mean “executioner”; a fate also shared by another word, lanius (from the verb lanio), meaning “he who tears, pulls to pieces”, that came to mean butcher and cook. Instead of carnifex “he who tears pieces of meat”, macellarius was used. Moreover, Metzger “butcher” was already used in Middle High German with the meaning Henkerknecht (executioner). The Wahrig Deutsches Wörterbuch, includes the following figured meaning (here in italics) of Schlägter/Schlagter, another word for “butcher” (my italics again): “Fleischer, Metzger; (fig.) Massenmörder” (mass murderer). As for the word Fleischerei, built on Fleisch “meat/ flesh”, it means “carnage” since its first occurrences in the language, just like the corresponding English word (again a borrowing from French), or for that matter Spanish carnicería, which in addition to its meaning ‘butcher’s shop’ means ‘carnage’. If we move further north, here is the word in Danish (slagter; a borrowing from German); first, for the contemporary language (from 1955), in Den Danske Ordbog, in italics the figured (overført) sense: “2.a OVERFØRT person, virksomhed el.lign. der behandler nogen eller noget hårdhændet, brutalt eller hensynsløst” (person, activity or similar that deals with someone or something violently, brutally or recklessly); and in the many-volume Ordbog over det danske sprog (I summarise): “2) overf.; person, der hensynsløst udgyder blod; menneskeslagter; især om hærfører ell. kirurg” (fig.; person that recklessly spills blood; man-killer; especially applied to military leaders or surgeons). In short, if we look at the whole series of related words instead of their “objective” meanings in absolute isolation, things look quite different than in the proposals under discussion. 1.3.2 The figured meaning of “butcher” and its long history in Western culture In his analysis of another of the set-examples of metaphor theory, digging one’s own grave, Krikmann (2007) claims that it is unnecessary to use Blending Theory

2. All translations are by E.B.

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to understand the sentence, as the elements of the comparison have been around and alive for a long time. It seems in fact that the same happens for This surgeon is a butcher!: the very negative meaning of the word butcher – and a negative view of butchers in certain respects − has been around − in Western Europe at least − for a couple of millennia, and the comparison itself is so well established that it is included in some dictionaries. When English borrowed the word from French it was already charged with the meaning “brutality, bloodshed” which was never lost. In fact, butchers cut off pieces of blood, which implies destruction of bodies, lots of blood, etc. This is common knowledge, i.e., people know perfectly well what butchers do, and have known it for hundreds of years: butchery is not simply a profession, as is associated to rather, say, upsetting actions. Spanish hacer una carnicería can have different senses according to the situation, but the central sense of more or less bloody, always distasteful destruction is always present. For instance, if I am trying to cut some pieces of dry skin on someone’s (or my own) feet or hands but I do it clumsily and blood is shed, he hecho una carnicería, literally ‘I’ve made a carnage’; remember that also the French word which is at the origin of the English one is related to Latin caro (Gen. sg. carnis) meaning both ‘meat’ and ‘flesh’, as this English lexical distinction is not common in Latin or the Romance languages. The distance from bloodily cutting pieces of animal meat to bloodily cutting pieces of human flesh is not too big. It can be interpreted in the sense that going from a reference to animals to a reference to humans, or from butchers to surgeons, is not as complicated as we could feel inclined to think. As executions in the Ancient world and later – and in many places nowadays − were a rather brutal, bloody affair, the similarity between a butcher’s and an executioner’s activities was fairly clear, and this explains the change in meaning of Latin carnifex. But the notion and its evaluation itself became familiar – common knowledge − throughout Europe, also when different words were used, viz. Schlagter, Metzger, slagter, macellaio, boucher, butcher, carnicero… 1.3.3 The view of surgeons in earlier times and its persistence in folk culture In addition to this, physicians and very especially surgeons were looked at with suspicion – and this for millennia.3 One cannot forget that earlier-times surgeons were not the highly scientifically trained professionals they are now. For centuries, it was the barbers who were in charge of most surgery, and surgery itself was associated with terrible pain, lots of blood, cutting off limbs and, in many cases, death. Serious and popular literature, but also proverbs, sayings, and the like, witness

3. Our earliest examples are in Hammurabi’s legal code (1772 bce).



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the negative values associated with surgeons and physicians, an association that partly still holds in the early 21st c. in popular culture. “Synonyms” of physician or doctor in several languages, as Spanish matasanos ‘killer of healthy people’, have kept this very negative sense up to now, and in 77 ce, Pliny the Elder wrote in his Naturalis historia: Medicis solum licet, impune homines occidere suos errores tegente terra, that is, “only physicians are allowed to kill unpunished because their errors are covered by earth.” See for exmple the following German sayings: Ärzte wollen den Menschen flicken, reissen ihn aber oft in Stücken (physicians want to heal people but they frequently cut them in pieces); Schlechte Ärzte machen aus kleinen Wunden grosse (bad doctors change small wounds into large ones); Ein junger Arzt muss drei Kirchhöfe haben (a young physician needs three graveyards); Wenn du den Arzt rufst, so rufe auch den Richter, dass er dein Testament aufsetze (if you call the doctor, call the judge too, to prepare your last will).4 Thus, both the figurative sense of butcher in relation with brutality, bloodshed etc., and the negative evaluation of physicians, have been well-established in the Western European languages for many centuries. This has to be assumed to be common knowledge unless proof of the contrary is offered. It thus seems that there is nothing new in the blend or metaphor, contra Grady et al. The speakers are probably using a comparison, equation or metaphor stored as part of their lexical knowledge. Steen (2007: 8) points out that in the corpus studies carried out by his Pragglejazz group, the vast majority of the metaphors are frozen: “voor 99 procent gewoon in het woordenboek te vinden zijn” [99% can be found in the dictionary]. 1.3.4 Other languages see no relation between surgeons and butchers This relation does not seem to exist in other languages. A revision of some recent and complete dictionaries of some Amerindian languages, including Quechua (both Ayacuchan and Bolivian), Navajo,Yucatec Mayan, Cha’palaa,5 and also some non-Amerindian ones, like Chinese and Basque,6 fails to show any relation between the terms for meat – butcher – and killing; and in most of these languages, surgeons stand in no established relation to butchery. Contrary to what 4. http://woerterbuchnetz.de/Wander/?sigle=Wander&mode=Vernetzung&lemid= WA01161; accessed 8th Aug. 2014. This short catalogue includes 157 Sprichwörter, old and new, and their correspondences in other languages. 5. With the exception of Cha’palaa, spoken by only ca. 5,000 people in NW Ecuador, the other languages have a sizeable number of speakers, more than seven million in the case of Quechua. Laime Ajacopa (2007); Soto Ruiz (no date); Young & Morgan (1987); Gómez Navarrete (2009); Pianchiche (2009). 6. Mateos et al. (1977); Trask (2008).

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we have just seen for a few Western European languages, the dictionary entries for butcher include no negative implications. In these cultures, with the exception of China, professional butchers, if they existed as such, were just members of the community with a certain professional activity. Also physicians or surgeons in our modern sense did not exist and their equivalents might be feared – if they were – for their spiritual, magic powers but not for their bloody activities. In these languages, a butcher is simply “the one who sells meat / kills animals”, and a doctor is “the one who heals.” There were thus no cultural and historic bases for metaphors like the one we are considering in these pages and, as Sharifian writes (2010: 3375), “Language acts as a carrier and repository of cultural conceptualisations.” It is against this type of languages that hypotheses like Grady et al.’s should be tested, as the cultural-historical influences pervading the Western European languages are not to be expected. 1.4

What do analyses of this type really do?

We cannot assume that speakers have to construct and interpret a sentence like This surgeon is a butcher! from scratch, resorting only to the first, objectivist, vericonditional meaning of both words. In Cognitive Linguistics we are supposed to work with the speakers’ knowledge of words and their corresponding concepts, not with the “real objects” as in objectivist semantics (Lakoff 1987 argued quite convincingly in this sense). However, the kind of analysis exemplified in Grady et al. (1999) seems to work precisely on those particular assumptions; as if the speakers would only know the “official” meaning of butcher and the contemporary positive, science-laden meaning of surgeon. If things are like this, then the allegedly cognitive analysis of metaphors like This surgeon is a butcher! is simply the review of a well-established feature of ancient Latin culture which was expressed first in Latin and finally in English by means of two French words which from the very beginning (even before they were borrowed) held the old figurative meanings. Associating butcher and surgeon in the way it is done in the example is extremely simple and no cognitive aerobatics are needed. It is neither novel nor problematic and just shows a stable link created over two thousand years ago. This means that the analysis exclusively in present-day terms is not valid for such an old association. What present-day speakers do is simply use an element in their lexicon, which includes not only isolated words, but also a large quantity of established idioms, set expressions, and collocations. But then, the problem with this type of analyses is that they still analyse concepts and their associations in the way it was done by traditional philology, but



From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method

without being conscious of the cultural and historical import of those concepts and associations of concepts. In Linguistics, also in CL, including Metaphor and Blending theories, we are supposed to be doing something (a) related to linguistics, and (b) not limited to an extremely narrow cultural area. CL is supposed to be an attempt at getting to human cognition through language. But in a case like this, language is almost absent and the interlinguistic and intercultural validity of the metaphor and the blend is, to say the least, doubtful. It is thus necessary to study how the proposed blend works in different languages, also in those that are not part of the Latin-­ based Western European cultural area, in order to draw some conclusions on the possible generality or universality of the processes involved. Unfortunately, this type of methodology is of frequent use. A single, isolated word or expression in English referring to some present-day concept is studied in order to show that the cognitive process allegedly discovered is universal, valid for all human beings even from the origins of modern humans and language. As Steen (2007: 14) writes, “Ondanks de boude uitspraken van diverse taalkundigen weten we nog steeds niet precies wanneer we metaforisch denken, en zelfs niet wat dat precies inhoudt” [In spite of the bold assertions by several linguists, we still do not know exactly when we are thinking in a metaphoric way, or even what that exactly means]. 2. Some possible methodological mistakes in Cognitive Linguistics Our analysis points to the possible existence of a number of methodological flaws in Cognitive Linguists (a group I consider myself a member of) in studies on metaphor and blending:7 1. The import and goals of many a study are not clearly delineated from the beginning. We do “as if ” any linguistic form (e.g. of metaphoric character) in English were enough for anything and no justification were needed to get to some universally valid conclusion on human cognitive processing; or are we only trying to describe some phenomenon of the language involved? What kind of cognitive process are we trying to understand and why have we chosen that particular example? Are there any possible counterexamples? Do any previous analyses of similar data exist? 7. But possibly also elsewhere. For instance, Croft (2001) is a reaction against similar methodological problems in Goldberg (1995), as the total absence of any reference to any language other than English, whereas the proposed constructions are viewed as universal.

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2. A single language, in most cases only English, can be used to ‘prove’ anything in universal terms. No detailed linguistic analysis is carried out, as one single example seems to be enough for such non-linguistic purposes (This surgeon is a butcher! is taken to be enough to understand certain types of blend; The ham sandwich has left without paying is seen as sufficient evidence for the identification of a certain type of metonymy, etc.). Only very seldom are the relations with other words and concepts pointed out. No corpus of data is normally used, a single example being taken to be enough, irrespective of its original language, its cultural and historic character, etc. 3. Cultural contents are excluded from consideration. We tend to take whatever is expressed in English as representing human cognition in an achronic, immutable, universal way – but we are the “weirdest” (i.e., Western European, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic) people, as Henrich, Heine and Norenzayan (2010) exhaustively show: Sampling from a thin slice of humanity would be less problematic if researchers confined their interpretations to the populations from which they sampled. However, despite their narrow samples, behavioral scientists often are interested in drawing inferences about the human mind and human behavior. This inferential step is rarely challenged or defended – with important exceptions (…) – despite the lack of any general effort to assess how well results from WEIRD samples generalize to the species. This lack of epistemic vigilance underscores the prevalent, though implicit, assumption that the findings one derives from a particular sample will generalize broadly; one adult human sample is pretty much the same as the next. (…). Leading scientific journals and university textbooks routinely publish research findings claiming to generalize to “humans” or “people” based on research done entirely with WEIRD undergraduates. In top journals such as Nature and Science, researchers frequently extend their findings from undergraduates to the species – often declaring this generalization in their titles. These contributions typically lack even a cautionary footnote about these inferential extensions.  (2010: 63)



Something similar has been said about the languages of the “WEIRD” people: The grammatical systems of European languages can only be properly understood if looked at in a larger typological perspective. At the same time, stressing the “exotic” features of the European or West European languages may have a positive effect on the development of linguistic theory in general in at least two ways: first, it is a necessary antidote to the pervasive European bias in all branches of linguistic research, second, it may contribute to our understanding of the ways in which “marked” grammatical eonstructions develop.  (Dahl 1990: 7)



From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method



The situation in CL is some times even worse, as it is not even “Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic (WEIRD) societies”, or the Standard Average European languages which are assumed to be universally, achronically representative, but in many cases only English, quite frequently only English as spoken in the USA. It has been claimed that this exclusivity may lead to irrelevant, useless and wrong results when dealing with grammar and meaning in other languages, and therefore with cognition too (Bernárdez 2008, 2013; Sinha & Bernárdez 2015). 4. Linguistic data are studied without any reference to any kind of context, just as if they were the immediate result of some kind of cognitive process. In fact this repeats one of the main tenets of Chomskyan linguistics, albeit in a much stronger way than was ever used in Generative Grammar (GG). In many cases, and against some of the supposedly essential principles of CL, the analysis of metaphors and blends seems to adopt a strictly objectivist stance, as in the example considered in the first part of this chapter. Brandt (2005) insists on a similar point: the vericonditional character of much of cognitive semantics, including Blending Theory. This view seems to pervade much of the CL research that finds its way to publication in some of the most prestigious journals. Brandt writes in the section of conclusions: In this text, I wished to stress a major methodological problem in current MST, namely its historically inherited vericonditional habits and the negative effects they have on the semantic sensibility of the analytic work – especially if they stay undetected and unacknowledged – and the confusion they cause on the level of critical debate in cognitive semantics.  (Brandt 2005: 1593–1594)



I fully endorse this criticism. In fact, much too frequently, cognitive linguistic studies do not seem to be Cognitive, but simply cognitivist (we could also say mentalistic in the Chomskyan sense); as Brandt (2005) argues: The main difference between a cognitivistic and a truly cognitive approach is thus that the former only intends to logically justify the semantic paradoxes, metaphors, counterfactual conditionals, and so on – by showing that they are still in principle possible, and virtually meaningful – whereas the latter intends to obtain a full-scale study of their reality, including discussions of the structural and functional grounding of cognitive and affective productions in the architecture of the socially and culturally committed human mind and of its pragmatic and semiotic dispositions.  (2005: 1585)

5. Linguistic objects are seen in isolation. One important reason is the limitation to the isolated individual when thinking on language and cognition and the view of language as related only to isolated individuals. This strictly individualist stance excludes interaction and the possible participants in the discourse

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where utterances like This surgeon is a butcher! are or may be used. Brandt & Brandt’s approach is much richer in this respect and much closer to reality, as the participants, the situation etc. are duly taken into account. It considers language in terms of communication (and semiosis), and communication is always intersubjective, as emphasised above. As Steen (2007) writes, We willen niet alleen naar veronderstelde cognitieve processen kijken, zoals de meeste mainstream taalkundigen doen, maar ook naar hun daadwerkelijke en observeerbare psychologische realisatie bij taalgebruikers in actie. [We do not just want to look at supposed cognitive processes, as most mainstream linguists do, but also to their real and observable psychological realisation by language users in action].  (2007: 11)

3. The need to consider interaction and culture in the cognitive study of language The view that human cognition is a phenomenon related only to the individual’s brain, open to its surrounding through that individual’s body (embodied cognition), a phenomenon that somehow “takes place” within the brain with some relevant participation of the central nervous system and the sensorimotor system, seems to be the prevalent view in mainstream CL. 3.1

Abyssal thinking in CL

The situation of mainstream CL in this respect, especially when dealing with metaphor and blending, can be fairly well characterised in terms of De Sousa Santos’s (2010) notion of abyssal thinking (pensamento abissal). He writes: O pensamento moderno ocidental é um pensamento abissal. Consiste num sistema de distinções visíveis e invisíveis, sendo que as invisíveis fundamentam as visíveis. As distinções invisíveis são estabelecidas através de linhas radicais que dividem a realidade social em dois universos distintos: o universo ‘deste lado da linha’ e o universo ‘do outro lado da linha’. A divisão é tal que ‘o outro lado da linha’ desaparece enquanto realidade, torna-se inexistente, e é mesmo produzido como inexistente. Inexistência significa não existir sob qualquer forma de ser relevante ou compreensível. (…). A característica fundamental do pensamento abissal é a impossibilidade da co-presença dos dois lados da linha.  (23/24) [Modern Western thinking [in our field: Mainstream CL] is abyssal thinking. It consists of a number of visible and invisible distinctions, the invisible ones serving as the foundation for the visible. The invisible distinctions are fixed by some radical lines that divide social [also linguistic eb] reality in two different



From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method

universes: the universe “this side of the line” and the universe “the other side of the line.” The division is such that “the other side of the line” disappears as a reality, becomes inexistent, and is even construed as inexistent. (…). The main characteristic of abyssal thinking is the impossibility of co-presence on both sides of the line. This side of the line will only prevail if it exhausts the field of relevant reality.]  (2010: 23–24)

The principle of the strict individuality of human cognition and its processes is one of those “invisible” foundations, and it is justified nowhere. As we have seen in Grady et al.’s analysis, no need seems to be felt that the essential tenet should be justified in any way. This is somehowe similar to Chomsky’s view that GG does not need to be justified. As Werry (2007: 73) wrote: The emergence of Chomskyan linguistics is represented as the natural unfolding of human reason, thus displacing consideration of how knowledge is produced, the conditions of its production, dissemination and reception. Like the linguistic cognitive development of the ideal speaker-hearer, the idealized theorist is described as naturally acquiring a theory that is generative.

Geoffrey Pullum (2010: 252) reviewed the “myths” created to explain and justify the birth of Generative Grammar. His conclusions coincide fairly well with the criticism advanced in this chapter; according to him, The truth about science is that discoveries and innovations develop over time and build on earlier developments in the field or in adjacent fields, and myths of monogenesis and individual glorification damage contemporary theorizing in at least two ways. First, they encourage scientists in the complacent maintenance of false assumptions: if almost every linguist is convinced that SS showed transformations to be necessary back in 1957, non-transformational research will be underdeveloped or ignored (and indeed I think in general it has been over the past fifty years). Second, they promote biased and lazy citation practices − the same old references passed from paper to paper without anyone checking the sources. Both consequences are worth guarding against. (p. 252)

The dividing line then excludes any possible attempts at showing that things are or may be otherwise, i.e., that “the other side of the line” exists. 3.2

Studying language in a non-solipsistic way

On the one hand, the need to see metaphor, blending, and language in general, as the product of human activity in interaction is well established and has been proved once and again – for instance in the development of Textlinguistics since the 1960’s, then in Pragmatics, Discourse Studies, many models of grammar, etc.;

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unfortunately, these studies often remain unacknowledged, as non-transformational studies for mainstream GG in Pullum’s quote above. That is one of the invisible lines (language is an individual phenomenon, and context, interaction, culture, history play no role) that separate that area of mainstream CL from the rest of language studies, even those with clear cognitive interests. Also the supraindividual reality of cognitive processes has been accepted in the cognitive sciences for decades, even if, as a direct result of abyssal thinking, such studies are rarely mentioned within mainstream CL. At times, a significant development in the intersubjective direction seems to be acknowledged, but not without introducing a dramatic adjustment in order to “accomodate” it to the principles on “this side” of the line, i.e., the absolute primacy of the individual. For instance, the discovery of mirror neurons by a team of Italian scholars led by Giacomo Rizzolatti in the late 1990’s provided the physical means for learning and also, and most importantly, for the establishment of intersubjective relations in social groups, and for the development of empathy.8 This means we dispose of neurophysiological tools whose primary function is to overcome the limits of the individual. But an attempt at an isolationist, “solipsistic” version was advanced within Lakoff ’s neural theory of language (Gallese & Lakoff 2005) which, as far as I know, was never continued.9 As for the state of things in 2014, mirror neurons are still understood as a mechanism for intersubjective, i.e. interactionist relations. This is also the most widespread view of language and cognition in language studies throughout the world and the specific schools from the beginnings of the 20th century to the present day. In the words of Liddicoat (2009: 116), The communicative reality of language lies in language as social process not in language as system, or as Vološinov states, this reality is “not the abstract system of language forms and not the isolated monologic utterance and not the psycho-physiological act of its existence, but the social event of verbal interaction, achieved through an utterance and utterances”.  (Vološinov 1929, author’s translation)

Lurija (Luria), one of the leading members of Vygotsky’s school, also wrote (Lurija, no date):

8. See for instance Rizzolatti, & Craighero (2004), Garbarini & Adenzato (2004); Gallese, Keysers & Rizzolatti (2004), Rizzolatti & Sinigaglia (2006), etc. to mention only a few essential publications. 9. No reference to this paper is made in a review of the field like Grimaldi (2012).



From butchers and surgeons to the linguistic method

Поведение человека определяется той информацией, которую он получает от других людей. Усваивая общечеловеческий опыт, человек получает возможность использовать знания и средства уже в готовом виде. (…). Человек не вынужден заново изобретать каждый раз те вещи, которые были изобретены и применялись в процессе истории. [The behaviour of human beings is governed by the information received from other people. On appropriating themselves of the common human experience, human beings get the possibility of using knowledge and means in a ready-to-be used state. (…) Human beings need not create anew, on every occasion, whatever had been created before and transmitted through history.]

In a very similar vein, Enfield (2010) points out some methodological problems posed by the intersubjective, collective character of language (and cognition, cf. Wilson 2004) for those trying to consider only the individual in isolation: For researchers who focus on the isolated individual, a socio-cultural environment can be daunting because of its diffuse and enormous ontology. Society and culture are constructed above and beyond the lifetime and mind of any individual, and so to participate in cultural activities – (…) we can’t act alone. None of us invented these activities. We’ve inherited them from a long historical line of cultural transmission and development. Social conventions are not only distributed over time in this way, they also need to be cognitively distributed in social space, if joint activity is to be realized at all. This is true for a wide range of activities from organizing a wedding to running a space station. Each is a product of the human mind. Each operates by the human hand. But neither springs from a single mind or runs by a single hand.  (2010: 6)

4. Conclusions The following tentative conclusions can be drawn from my brief analysis: 1. The isolationist, acontextual, ahistorical, individualist view of language and cognition leads to unreal explanations of unreal facts, as in Grady et al.’s analysis of This surgeon is a butcher!. In my opinion, cases like this, which can still be found in mainstream Cognitive Linguistics, especially when dealing with metaphors and blends, fail to explain much about the human mind, which is seen in Chomskyan terms, as achronic, identical in all human beings, not influenced by culture, etc. Moreover, examples are chosen in an apparently haphazard manner, they are studied in isolation and in most of the cases are taken from the English Language. Some problems derived from the wrong assumption that Western and especially US American culture and language represent human cognition at large are pointed out in this chapter.

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2. Opposite or alternative views and analyses of the facts studied are rarely considered or discussed; they remain unacknowledged, simply as non-existent. This feature, which was analysed here using Santos’ notion of abyssal thinking, is probably inherited from similar ways of doing in Chomskyan linguistics. Some of its dangers from a methodologically adequate study of linguistic phenomena are mentioned. 3. Intersubjective views of language and cognition have a long and rich history, within linguistics, the social and the cognitive sciences; in virtue, so it seems, as much as it happens with those views in point (2), they are simply ignored. That this might be dangerous in the long term for mainstream CL is apparent. 4. CL would gain if it followed paths in the direction of the old and rich tradition of viewing language in terms of interaction, an approch that is gaining ground among many non-mainstream scholars within CL, and also outside the field, the most recent example being LaPolla (2015). 5. Language, and particularly metaphor and blending, have to be seen in ‘real’ terms, i.e., as part of interaction and communication and as part of discourse and text, never in isolation. According to recent research done within CL, the main tenet is that metaphor, metonymy, blending, etc., have to be analysed within discourse and that culture and history have to be a significant component of such analyses.

References Bernárdez, Enrique. 2008. “Collective Cognition and Individual Activity: Variation, Language and Culture.” In Body, Language and Mind. Vol II: Sociocultural situatedness, ed. by Roslyn M. Frank, René Dirven, Tom Ziemke, and Enrique Bernárdez, 137–168. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Bernárdez, Enrique. 2013. “On the Cultural Character of Metaphor. Some Reflections on Universality and Culture-Specificity in the Language and Cognition of Time, Especially in Amerindian Languages.” Review of Cognitive Linguistics 11(1): 1–35.  doi:  10.1075/rcl.11.1.01ber

Brandt, Line, and Per Aage Brandt. 2005. “Making Sense of a Blend. A Cognitive-Semiotic Approach to Metaphor.” Annual Review of Cognitive Linguistics 3: 216–249.  doi:  10.1075/arcl.3.12bra

Croft, William. 2001. Radical Construction Grammar. Oxford (UK): Oxford University Press.  doi:  10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198299554.001.0001

Dahl, Östen. 1990. “Standard Average European as an Exotic Language.” In Toward a Typology of European Languages, ed. by J. Bechert, J. Bernini, and C. Buridant, 3–8. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. doi: 10.1515/9783110863178.3 Enfield, Nick J. 2010. “Human Sociality at the Heart of Language.” Radboud Universiteit Nijmegen, (Netherlands). http://www.mpi.nl/publications/escidoc-388895/@@popup.



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Fusaroli, Riccardo, Nivedita Gangopadhyay, and Kristian Tylén. 2014. “The Dialogically Extended Mind: Language as Skilful Intersubjective Engagement.” Cognitive Systems Research 29–30: 31–39. doi: 10.1016/j.cogsys.2013.06.002 Gallese, Vittorio, and George Lakoff. 2005. “The Brain’s Concepts: The Role of the Sensory-Motor System in Conceptual Knowledge.” Cognitive Neuropsychology 22(3–4): 455–479.  doi:  10.1080/02643290442000310

Gallese, Vittorio, Christian Keysers, and Giacomo Rizzolatti. 2004: “A Unifying View of the Basis of Social Cognition,” TRENDS in Cognitive Sciences 8/9: 396–403.  doi:  10.1016/j.tics.2004.07.002

Garbarini, Francesa, and Mauro Adenzato. 2004: “At the Root of Embodied Cognition: Cognitive Science Meets Neurophysiology.” Brain and Cognition 56: 100–106.  doi:  10.1016/j.bandc.2004.06.003

Goldberg, Adele E. 1995. Constructions: A Construction Grammar Approach to Argument Structure. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gómez Navarrete, Javier A. 2009. Diccionario Introductorio Español-Maya, Maya-Español [Introductory Spanish-Maya, Maya-Spanish Dictionary]. Chetumal (Mexico): Quintana Roo. Grady, Joseph E., Todd Oakley, and Seana Coulson. 1999. “Blending and Metaphor.” In Metaphor in Cognitive Linguistics, ed. by G. Steen & R. Gibbs (eds.). Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. [http://cogweb.ucla.edu/CogSci/Grady_99.html. Accessed Aug. 8th, 2014.]   doi:  10.1075/cilt.175.07gra

Grimaldi, Mirko. 2012. “Toward a Neural Theory of Language: Old Issues and New Perspectives.” Journal of Neurolinguistics 25: 304–327. doi: 10.1016/j.jneuroling.2011.12.002 Henrich, Joseph, Steven J. Heine, and Ara Norenzayan. 2010. “The Weirdest People in the World?” Behavioral and Brain Sciences 33: 61–135. doi: 10.1017/S0140525X0999152X Johnson’s Dictionary. Edited by Alexander Chalmers, 1843. Studio Editions, London, 1994. Krikmann, Arvo. 2007. “Digging one’s own Grave.” Folklore 35: 53–60. [http://haldjas.folklore. ee/folklore/vol35/krikmann.pdf. Accessed 8th Feb. 2012.] Laime Ajacopa, Teófilo. 2007. Diccionario Bilingüe Quechua – Castellano, Castellano – Quechua [Bilingual Dictionary Quechua-Castilian, Castilian-Quechua]. La Paz. Lakoff, George. 1987. Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things. Chicago: Chicago University Press.  doi:  10.7208/chicago/9780226471013.001.0001

LaPolla, Randy J. 2015. “On the Logical Necessity of a Cultural and Cognitive Connection for the Origin of all Aspects of Linguistic Structure.” In Language Structure and Environment. Social, cultural, and natural factors, ed. by Rik De Busser and Randy J. La Polla, 31–44. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. doi: 10.1075/clscc.6.02lap Liddicoat, Anthony J. 2009. “Communication as Culturally Contexted Practice: A View from Intercultural Communication.” Australian Journal of Linguistics 29(1): 115–133.  doi:  10.1080/07268600802516400

Lurija, A. R. (no date) Lekcii po obščej psihologii. Evoljuconnoe vvdenie v psihologiju (po materialam lekcij, pročitannyh na Fakultete Psihologii M.G.U.) [Lessons in general psychology. Evolutionist introduction to psychology (on the basis of materials for classes and lectures at the Psychology Faculty, State University of Moscow]. [www.psychology.ru/library/Alexander_Luria/Lectures/. Accessed June 2005.] Mateos, Fernando, Miguel Otegui, and Ignacio Arrizabalaga. 1977. Diccionario Español de la Lengua China [Spanish Dictionary of Chinese]. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe. Musolff, Andreas. 2012. “The Study of Metaphor as Part of Critical Discourse Analysis.” Critical Discourse Studies 9(3): 301–310. doi: 10.1080/17405904.2012.688300

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Pullum, Geoffrey K. 2010. “Creation Myths of Generative Grammar and the Mathematics underlying Syntactic Structures.” In The Mathematics of Language, ed. by Christian Ebert, Gerhard Jäger, and Jens Michaelis, 238–254. Berlin: Springer Verlag.  doi:  10.1007/978-3-642-14322-9_18

Rizzolatti, Giacomo, and Corrado Sinigaglia. 2006. Las Neuronas Espejo. Los Mecanismos de la Empatía Emocional [Mirror Neurons. The Mechanisms of Emotional Empathy]. Barcelona: Paidós. Rizzolatti, Giacomo, and Laila Craighero. 2004. “The Mirror Neuron System.” Annual Review of Neuroscience 27: 169–192. doi: 10.1146/annurev.neuro.27.070203.144230 Santos, Boaventura de Sousa. 2010. “Para além do pensamento abissal: Das linhas globais a uma ecologia de saberes [Beyond abyssal thinking: From global lines to an ecology of forms of knowledge].” In Epistemologias do Sul, ed. by Boaventura de Sousa Santos, and Maria Paula Meneses, 23–71. Coimbra: Almedina. Sharifian, Farzad. 2010. “Cultural conceptualisations in intercultural communication: A study of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australians.” Journal of Pragmatics 42: 3367–3376.  doi:  10.1016/j.pragma.2010.05.006

Sinha, Chris, and Enrique Bernárdez. 2015. “Metaphors, maps, and fusions.” In The Routledge Handbook of Cultural Linguistics, ed. by Farzad Sharifian, Chapter 21. London: Routledge. Soto Ruiz, Clodoaldo. (no date). Runasimi-Kastillanu-Inlis Llamkaymanaq Qullqa. Ayakuchu-­ Chanka [Quechua – Spanish – English Dictionary]. CSR-Parwa (Peru). Steen, Gerard. 2004. “Can discourse properties of metaphor affect metaphor recognition?” Journal of Pragmatics 36: 1295–1313. doi: 10.1016/j.pragma.2003.10.014 Steen, Gerard. 2007. Wanneer denken wij in metaforen? Over de relatie tussen taalgebruik en cognitie. (Rede uitgesproken bij de aanvaarding van het ambt van bijzonder hoogleraar Taalgebruik en Cognitie bij de Faculteit der Letteren van de Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam op 29 juni 2007) [When do we think in metaphors? On the relationship between language use and cognition (Lecture held at the inauguration of the Position as Special Professor on Language use and cognition at the Faculty of Letters of the Free University of Amsterdam)]. Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit. Steen, Gerard. 2008. “The paradox of metaphor: Why we need a three-dimensional model of metaphor.” Metaphor and Symbol 23: 213–241. doi: 10.1080/10926480802426753 Tiapuyo, Pianchiche. 2009. Cha’palaachi dape pilla [Cha’palaalachi Vocabulary]. Quito: Ministerio de Educación. Trask, Robert L. 2008. Etymological Dictionary of Basque. (Edited for web publication by Max W. Wheeler). University of Sussex. Vološinov, Valentin N. 1929. Marksizm i Filosofija Jazyka [Marxism and the Philosophy of Language]. Leningrad: Priboj. Werry, Chris. 2007. “Reflections on language: Chomsky, linguistic discourse and the value of rhetorical self-consciousness.” Language Sciences 29: 66–87.  doi:  10.1016/j.langsci.2006.01.001

Wilson, Robert A. 2004: Boundaries of the Mind. The individual in the fragile sciences. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Young, Robert W., and William Morgan. 1987. The Navajo Language. A grammar and colloquial dictionary. Albuquerque: New Mexico University Press.

Individual differences and in situ identity marking Colloquial Belgian Dutch in the reality TV show “Expeditie Robinson” Eline Zenner,* Gitte Kristiansen** and Dirk Geeraerts* * University of Leuven / ** University Complutense de Madrid

Over the past decades, sociolinguists and Cognitive Linguists have shifted their attention to individual differences and intra-speaker variation (Hernández-­ Campoy & Cutillas-Espinosa 2013; Barlow 2013). This chapter aims to add to this trend by conducting a bottom-up analysis of the speech of participants in the Dutch reality TV show “Expeditie Robinson”. We build quantitative profiles tracking participants’ use of two features of Colloquial Belgian Dutch (CBD): the personal pronoun gij ‘jou’ (vs. standard jij) and word-final t-deletion. We compare participants’ style-shifts in these profiles, focusing on register differences (contrasting informal and formal speech) and differences in group makeup (i.c. the absence/presence of Netherlandic Dutch participants – who typically do not use CBD). The most outspoken differences between the participants are found for group accommodation in the use of gij. Interestingly, the different levels of accommodation can be linked to the degree of strategic planning and voting of individual participants. Keywords: Colloquial Belgian Dutch, individual language use, word-final t-deletion, personal pronouns, reality TV

1. Introduction This paper aims to add to an emerging trend in sociolinguistic and Cognitive (Socio)­Linguistic research that emphasizes individual differences and intra-­speaker variation, by conducting a bottom-up analysis of the speech of twelve participants in the Dutch reality TV show “Expeditie Robinson” (known as “Survivor” in the Anglo-Saxon world). In the remainder of this introduction, we pay more attention to the way this study fits in with these recent developments in sociolinguistics and doi 10.1075/pbns.262.03zen © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

40 Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

Cognitive (Socio)Linguistics. In Section 2, the format of “Expeditie Robinson” is presented, more details are provided on the participants whose speech we monitored and the transcription methods are described. Section 3 proceeds to a discussion of our speaker profiles: after briefly sketching the socio-­cultural background of Colloquial Belgian Dutch, the method behind the construction of the speaker profiles is summarized and the different discourse situations in which the participants are tracked are presented. The results of our study are discussed in Section 4, linking similarities and differences between the speakers’ profiles to their in situ identity. The final section provides a conclusion, summarizing our main findings and outlining some perspectives for future research. Traditionally, the main concern of variational sociolinguistics has been to discern systemic and systematic correlations between social macro-categories and linguistic variables: what hierarchical structures of linguistic variation and change can be found when correlating linguistic (primarily phonetic) variation between standard and non-standard forms with categories like age, gender or social class (Labov 1966, 1972; Trudgill 1974; Chambers 2003)? One drawback of looking for such correlations is the loss of granularity that results from the aggregation. Clustering speakers solely on grounds of their macro-social background risks obscuring more fine-grained social differences, most notably concerning the way speakers actively use linguistic resources to create and re-create social meaning in discourse (Tannen 2005; and see seminal work by Gumperz & Hymes 1972; Gumperz 1982; Le Page & Tabouret-Keller 1985). Increased attention for this process of style-shifting and meaning-creation is precisely what third-wave sociolinguistics aims to achieve: it has shifted the focus from structure to use, and from speech to speaking (Coupland 2007: 7; Auer 2007; Duranti & Goodwin 1992; Rampton 1999; de Fina, Schiffrin & Bamberg 2006; Agha 2007; Auer & Roberts 2011; Erickson 2011 and see Verschueren 2010 for a succinct introduction). Resulting from the third wave’s assumption that such stylistic practice is most visible in moment-to-moment adjustments (both to context and interlocutors), the survey-based quantitative analyses from the Labovian tradition have made way for ethnographic discourse-analytic analyses of intra-speaker variation (Eckert 2011: 21; Hernández-Campoy & Cutillas-Espinosa 2013). Such fine-grained analyses also help to attenuate the uniform picture painted by the traditional aggregative analyses, revealing how different linguistic variables can have different social meaning to different speakers in different contexts. This evolution from stratification to styling and from the aggregate to the individual can also be witnessed in Cognitive (Socio)Linguistics. First, it fits in with the recontextualization tendency of Cognitive Sociolinguistics. Despite its usage-­based hypothesis, which claims that substantial importance should be given to “actual use of the linguistic system and a speaker’s knowledge of this use”



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

(Langacker 1999: 91), Cognitive Linguistics has long suffered from the monolectal phallacy: alleged usage-based research has nearly exclusively studied written standard varieties (typically English) without paying attention to socio-­lectal variation. Over the past decades, researchers have however come to appreciate that – as Weinreich already noted, “a linguistic community is never homogeneous and hardly ever self-contained” (1970: vii); it is impossible to take the usage-based claim seriously and simultaneously neglect social variation. This belief forms the cornerstone of Cognitive Sociolinguistics, a subfield of Cognitive Linguistics that embeds the study of sociolinguistic variation in the Cognitive Linguistic framework (see Geeraerts 2001: 53; Kristiansen & Dirven 2008; Geeraerts, Kristiansen & Peirsman 2010; Kristiansen & Geeraerts 2013a). The most pertinent example is Kristiansen (2008), who describes the cognitive process underlying style-­shifting: based on the Cognitive Linguistic principles of prototypicality, conceptual metaphors and cultural models, it is explained how accents and allophonic variation can come to index social identity. Second, studies on idiolects and individual differences are also gaining ground in Cognitive Linguistics (e.g. Street & Dabrowska 2010; Dabrowska 2012). A notable example is Barlow (2013), who examines the speech of six White House press secretaries. Even when only analyzing rather rudimentary linguistic features such as bi-grams and n-grams, it becomes apparent that each press secretary has his or her own individual style: keeping the social context stable (in this case to press statements), an interesting contrast shows up between intra-­speaker stability and inter-speaker variation. Moreover, Barlow’s analyses illustrate the loss of information that comes from aggregating over different speakers, showing strong divergence of the language of individuals compared to mixed-­speaker averages. One important difference between these Cognitive Linguistic approaches and third wave sociolinguistics concerns methodology: where quantitative analyses are typically reviled more than praised by the latter (e.g. Rampton 2011), the former embrace the value of quantitative analyses as an invaluable tool in disentangling the complexity of stylistic and lectal variation (e.g. Zenner, Geeraerts & Speelman 2012; Janda 2013): quantification is not the essence of empirical research, but simply follows in a natural way of what an empirical methodology tries to achieve: quantification in empirical research is not about quantification, but about data management and hypothesis testing. (Geeraerts 2010: 72)

To arrive at a reliable and fully comprehensive view of complex patterns of intraand inter-speaker variation, it is best to rely on inferential statistical analyses of empirical data (Kristiansen & Geeraerts 2013b).

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Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

In outlining the design for our study on the use of Colloquial Belgian Dutch by twelve participants in the Dutch reality TV show “Expeditie Robinson”, we combine these re-focusing trends of third-wave sociolinguistics and Cognitive Sociolinguistics. First, we are primarily interested in the participants’ moment-­ to-­moment adjustments, both to changes in context (focusing in on formality) and to changes in group make-up (focusing in on accommodation strategies). Second, we pay specific attention to individual differences in the degree of these style-­shifts by creating separate speaker profiles for each participant. Third, the degree of speaker agentivity and the level of conscious construal is taken into consideration by comparing the use of two distinct features of Colloquial Belgian Dutch: one stereotype variable (a feature known to Belgian Dutch speakers for being regionally and socially marked), and one indicator variable (a feature that is regionally marked but discussed less in public discourse) (see below, and see Labov 1972; and Johnstone, Andrus & Danielson 2006). Next, we rely on inferential statistics in analyzing intra- and inter-speaker variation in the strength and direction of the style-shifts noted for these two linguistic features. Finally, we zoom in on the way the attested shifts are used for in situ identity creation by factoring in the different types of personae we find within the structure of the game show. Below, the methodological steps we have taken in creating a design according to these lines are described in more detail. 2. “Expeditie Robinson”: Introducing the game and the speakers To ensure a correct understanding of what follows, this section provides some crucial information on the data we work with. First, we briefly summarize the format of “Expeditie Robinson” and discuss some benefits and drawbacks of working with this type of data. Second, we present the data we gathered and the twelve participants whose speech we monitored closely. 2.1

Game format

Within the broader genre of reality TV, “Expeditie Robinson” is part of the subclass of the gamedoc: it is a social game where different participants compete in physical, intellectual and social challenges (Couldry 2004). In the course of forty to fifty days, approximately eighteen contestants try to survive on a (supposedly) desert island and strive to be awarded with the title of Robinson of the Year. Crucial in this respect is the principle of progressive elimination: at regular intervals



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

(shown at the end of every episode), participants gather in the so-called Tribal Council, where they have to vote one participant home:1 (1) BJO: ik vind Esther (h)ier op (h)et eiland niet passen # ze kost mij aan energie ze kost mij aan krediet euh@fp ik hoop voor de groep da(t) ze der vantussen is morgen of liever euh@fp na de eilandraad ja. ‘In my opinion Esther doesn’t fit in on the island. She takes up my energy, she makes me lose all credit; I hope for the group she has to leave tomorrow or rather after the Tribal Council.’

The final participant to survive these Tribal Councils wins a sizeable amount of money and is awarded with the title of Robinson of the Year. The events on the island are broadcast in fourteen episodes, which can be grouped in four different sections. At the start of the show, the different participants are divided in two tribes. Every couple of days, the tribes compete against each other, alternately in a reward challenge and an elimination challenge. In the reward challenge, participants have to prove they are worthy survivors who master a variety of skills, such as swimming deep, running fast, building fire. The winning tribe is rewarded with food, a phone call home, a spa treatment, or other luxury products. At the elimination challenges, the stakes are raised: the loosing team is sent to the Tribal Council. Naturally (and quite importantly for our current perspective), the elimination process causes social stress, intrigues, counting and strategic alliances between candidates: (2) *CAR: dus ja (h)et is ook logisch da(t) Esther op (h)em gaa(t) stemme(n) en euh@fp één van de twee jongere(n) ook zeker ja da(t) zijn vier stemme(n) dan ist [: is het] gedaan eh@fp. ‘So yes, it’s only logical that Esther votes for him and one of the younger kids too for sure, yes, that’s four votes, then it’s done.’

The second part of the show starts after approximately three episodes: the tribes are shuffled, and a handful of participants have to swap teams. Because the participants have started to connect with their tribe members by this time, identification with the ingroup is maximal, and reactions to the social shuffle are highly emotional. At the start of the third part of the show, the two tribes merge, and participants are reunited. This merge is accompanied by some drastic changes to the game structure: as of this point, participants compete individually in the challenges instead of per tribe. The elimination challenges become immunity

1. Elements between brackets are not pronounced, @fp is used for filled pauses and # indicates silent pauses.

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44 Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

challenges; the competitor winning the challenge cannot be voted home in the following Tribal Council: (3) *JUT: moest ik echt me(t) mijn gevoel moete(n) stemme(n) dan zou ik euh@fp op de persoon stemme(n) die vandaag immuniteit (h)eeft. ‘If I were to vote following my emotional instinct, then I would vote for the person who has immunity today.’

In the reward challenges, the special treats are now rewarded to the winning participant, who can sometimes share the treat with one or two other participants of his or her choice. This way, participants are forced to openly acknowledge their social networks. The final part of the show consists of electing the winner of the season: first, there is the legendary balance challenge, where the three or four remaining contestants have to keep their balance on a thin wooden beam as long as possible. Then, there is the final Tribal Council in which the Robinson of the Year is elected. These four parts form the main outline of the show, which is subject to tweaks and fixes in different seasons. In all, three different discourse settings can be found in the broadcasts of these events. First, there are the video diary fragments, which are ‘like secret correspondence with the viewer, providing information about the game that the other castaways may not have’ (Haralovich & Trosset 2004: 88) (example (1)). Second, we find the informal dialogues between the participants during their day-to-day activities and conversations on the island (example (2)). Finally, we find dialogues at the more formal Tribal Council (example (3)). Three main benefits can be noted for working with this type of data for studying social meaning creation and style-shifting. First, social identity is crucial on the island: if people do not like you, they will cast a vote for you at the Tribal Council and you will end up going home. Consequently, we expect participants to be more aware of their social position and their social networks than in regular settings, and hence be more inclined to modify their identity (or at least the perception thereof) to alter or maintain that social position. Second, the tribes form isolated communities functioning as micro-societies where participants live together twenty-four hours a day, following their own norms and regulations. As such, life on the island forms a prototypical instance of a community of practice, which is principally a model of social learning and development, an account of how people progressively acculturate to new social environments. The concept is particularly suggestive when we are dealing with social settings (…) where social and linguistic change, and identity change, are in the air.  (Coupland 2007: 50 on Lave & Wenger 1991 and Wenger 1999)



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

What makes this data specifically unique is that we can follow the participants from the very start of their social experiences in a new group of people throughout the social changes (e.g. in the form of the tribe shuffles), conflicts and friendships they encounter on the island. Finally, reality TV shows provide us with rather accessible material: they enable researchers to study local construction of social meaning through language use, without necessarily having to emerge in ethnographic methods of data collection. One important drawback, though, is that we do not have any control of the amount of editing, cutting and pasting that has been conducted prior to broadcasting. This leads to two important shortcomings. First, what we see in the episodes is unrepresentatively ‘exciting’: the fragments that are shown always contain some sort of social conflict or extreme happiness. Second, because of the amount of cutting and pasting, there is less sequentiality in the broadcasted fragments than in self-recorded naturally occurring data: when looking across scenes, there is not much guarantee that one event took place prior to another. A solution to these issues would be to work with the uncut tapes instead of the edited broadcasts, but the broadcasting company was not willing to grant our request for the uncut data. Hence, we need to take the limitations of our data into account in the analysis. In this case, this was done in two different ways. First, sequence-by-sequence analyses only focus on utterances within fragments consisting of an uninterrupted dialogue, filmed in one shot. Second, in interpreting the results, we are careful not to forget that what we see is what got selected as interesting enough to be broadcast on television. However, it is crucial to underline here that comments from participants during a live studio episode some months after the recordings indicate that they never feel that the broadcasts are unrepresentative of their behavior and activities on the island (although they are sometimes shocked by their own words and actions): (4) *MER: ja ik was gewoon verschote(n) en ik begreep ook nie(t) goe(d) hoe op sommige momente(n) da(t) (i)k zoiets (h)ad van allez Meredith waarom ebde [: hebt ge] der nu niks op gezegd ma(ar) op da(t) moment voelde ik da(t) ook echt zo en da(t) geef ik ook toe en da(t) heb ik (h)aar ook gezegd ik zeg ik zat fout en ik had gewoon moete(n) zegge(n) van wa(t) rustiger aan. ‘yes I just startled and I didn’t really understand at some points that… I was like come on Meredith why didn’t you say anything about this but at that point I really felt that way and I admit that now and I also said that to her, I say I was wrong and I just should have said like take it easy.’

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46 Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

Additionally, the benefits of this type of data for linguistic analysis clearly outwin the drawbacks, making this an intriguing dataset to monitor individual speakers’ style-shifts in different social contexts. 2.2

Corpus and speakers

For this paper, we work with three seasons of the show: we collected seasons 4, 5 and 6 of Expeditie Robinson (broadcast in 2003, 2004 and 2005 respectively). Each season contains fourteen episodes of approximately fifty minutes. In season  4, sixteen participants compete for the title of Robinson of the year. In the other two seasons, eighteen participants are living on the island. In total, our corpus amounts to 35 hours of recordings for 52 different speakers, 26 from the Netherlands and 26 from Belgium. Except for voice-overs, comments by the presenters and flashbacks, the first author of this paper manually transcribed all data, providing morpho-phonological details (Zenner, Geeraerts & Speelman 2009). The resulting database contains 10,000 utterances. The transcriptions rely on the chat conventions of the childes project (MacWhinney 2000). The analyses presented here zoom in on the Belgian Dutch participants: we are primarily interested in variation in the use of Colloquial Belgian Dutch, a substandard but supraregional variety of Dutch that is typical of Flanders (the Northern part of Belgium), but that is hardly used in The Netherlands (see Section 3 for more details on the history of Colloquial Belgian Dutch). In order to avoid data sparseness, we further restrict the data to the language use of speakers with more than 175 utterances on the show. As such, our data are pooled from a group of twelve Belgian Dutch participants, five from season 4 (Jutta, Geert, Robin, Giovanni and Bjorn), three from season 5 (Frank, Matthias and Mick) and four from season 6 (Emma, Carl, Meredith and Marnix). In the results section, these speakers are presented in some more detail, paying special attention to the way they play the game. For now, the information provided on the participants in Table 1 can suffice: we list the unique speaker code we use in the transcriptions and the profiles. Furthermore, we indicate the season the speaker participates in. The age of the participants and their occupation is also provided. Next, we present some more specific information concerning the speaker’s performance on the island, indicating the way and the episode in which he/she left the island, the number of times the participant won immunity in one of the challenges, and any additional information on their career on the island. In the next section, we describe how we created speaker profiles for these twelve participants’ use of two features of Colloquial Belgian Dutch.

Individual differences and in situ identity marking

47

Table 1. Overview speakers Speaker

Code

Season

Utterances

Age Profession

Exit in episode

Immunity Special info … times

Bjorn

BJO

4

465

34

truck driver

first exit: ep9 (voted home) 3 second exit: ep11 (lost challenge)

Starts as leader of the girls tribe. Gets a second chance as castaway after his first exit.

Jutta

JUT

4

244

30

doctor

winner

0

/

Geert

GEE

4

281

39

survival expert

first exit: ep9 (voluntarily) second exit: ep10 (voluntarily)

1

Leaves because he feels homesick and doesn’t like the game anymore.

Robin

ROB

4

387

28

psychologist

finalist

3

Leaves after losing the balance challenge.

Giovanni

GIO

4

354

27

cook

finalist

2

Leaves after losing the balance challenge.

Frank

FRA

5

507

37

roof worker

winner

1

/

Matthias

MAT

5

295

23

primary school finalist teacher

0

Loses from Frank in the final Tribal Council.

Mick

MIC

5

423

39

fireman

first exit: ep3 (voted home) second exit: ep10 (voted home)

1

Gets a second chance as castaway after his first exit. Is reunited with the group in ep9, together with the other castaways.

Emma

EMM 6

321

20

student political science

finalist

1

Is sent to a special winners’ island (without Tribal Councils but with lots of food) in ep9, after winning immunity. Stays there until the finals. Loses from Marnix in the final Tribal Council.

Carl

CAR

6

341

42

houseman

ep11

3

Spends ep8 and ep10 on the special winners’ island.

Meredith

MER

6

302

18

student communication

ep12

1

Spends ep11 on the special winner’s island.

Marnix

MAR

6

387

37

police insepctor

winner

2

Starts the show as castaway. Becomes leader (with immunity) of one of the tribes after the shuffle. Spends ep8, ep9 and ep11 on the winners’ island.

48 Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

3. Colloquial Belgian Dutch in “Expeditie Robinson”: Speaker profiles For our analyses of style-shifting on “Expeditie Robinson”, we focus on the twelve Belgian Dutch participants’ use of two features of Colloquial Belgian Dutch. In this section, we first briefly sketch the socio-cultural background of Colloquial Belgian Dutch and we present the two features of the variety that we will study. Then, we present the method behind our individual speaker profiles. 3.1

Colloquial Belgian Dutch

With its two national varieties, Dutch can be considered to be a pluricentric language (Clyne 1992): it is one of the official languages of Flanders (the Northern part of Belgium) and the Netherlands. Like in the majority of Western-Europe, the standardization of Dutch in the Netherlands started during the Renaissance as a result of the focal position that was awarded to the vernaculars by the Reformation, and was completed during the Enlightenment (see Willemyns 2013 for a general history of the Dutch language). For Flanders, the situation was more complex. During the wave of standardization in Europe in the 17th century, Flanders was under foreign rule and the majority of public life was conducted in French (which was the preferred language of the social elite at the time). As the use of Dutch was restricted to local community life, there were no issues of mutual intelligibility and hence no immediate need for standardization. When, resulting from increased emancipation, the standardization process was eventually speeded up in the course of the twentieth century, a choice had to be made between an exonormative orientation (following the long-established Netherlandic Dutch norm) or an endonormative orientation (creating an individual Belgian Dutch norm). Aiming for a uniform Standard Dutch, the choice was eventually made for convergence with the Netherlandic Dutch norm. An immediate result of this language policy was a big divide in Flanders between the exogenous standard variety and the endogenous colloquial variety. In part because Standard Dutch always kept its foreign character to the Flemish, its use was in practice restricted to highly formal registers (such as news reading) – a phenomenon that has been referred to as the “tuxedo mentality”: a tuxedo is something you definitely need and something you want to look smart in, but you never really feel completely right when wearing it (Geeraerts 2001). For informal contacts, an increasingly uniform colloquial variety developed quite naturally based on the Brabantic dialects (see also De Caluwé 2002; Goossens 2000). This supraregional but substandard, uncodified variety of Dutch, which has been called tussentaal (‘inter-language’), Verkavelingsvlaams (‘allotment Dutch’) and Colloquial Belgian Dutch (see Geeraerts 2011), has over

Individual differences and in situ identity marking



the past decades been subject to heated debate (Van Istendael 2005), but also to empirical variationist research (e.g. Van Gijsel, Geeraerts & Speelman 2004) (see Geeraerts & Van de Velde 2013 for an overview of CBD research). 3.2

CBD features

Besides a number of lexical variants (such as Belgian Dutch microgolf for Netherlandic Dutch magnetron ‘microwave’) and syntactic markers (e.g. word order in complex verb phrases), the most important features of Colloquial Belgian Dutch (henceforward CBD) are morphological and phonological (see Geeraerts & De Sutter 2003). These features are listed in Table 2. For our present purposes, we zoom in on the use of two of these features. The first can be considered as a stereotype variable (in Labov’s 1972 terminology): as the feature is an “overt topic of social comment” (Johnstone, Andrus & Danielson 2006: 82), people are generally highly aware of the fact that the feature is non-­standard and that it indexes social and regional characteristics of its user Table 2.  Phonological and morphological CBD features Group

Feature

Standard variant

CBD

Pronunciation

word-initial h-deletion

huis ‘house’

uis

word-final t-deletion

dat ‘that’

da

indefinite article

een stoel ‘a chair’

ne stoel

negative article

geen stoel ‘geen stoel’

gene stoel

definite determiner

de appel ‘the apple’

den appel

proximal

deze appel ‘this apple’

dezen appel

distal

die stoel ‘this chair’

dieje stoel

posessives

mijn stoel ‘my chair’

mijne stoel

Nominal flexion

diminutives

een stoeltje ‘a little chair’

een stoeleke

Personal pronouns

nominative

je gaat ‘you go’

gij gaat

oblique

ik vermoord je ‘I’ll kill you’

ik vermoord u

reflexive

hij wast zich ‘he washes himself ’

hij wast hem hij wast zijn eigen

1 person singular, simple present

ik ga ‘I go’

ik gaan

imperative

loop! ‘run!’

loopt!

Adnominal flexion

Verbal features

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Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

(see Johnstone, Andrus & Danielson 2006: 79 on Silverstein 1998). In contrast, the second feature is an indicator variable: it is also regionally restricted in use, but people are less aware of the feature and its indexicality. Being a prerequisite for more active uses of linguistic features, this awareness of a feature’s indexicality forms a crucial parameter for our analyses of style-shifting and identity marking (see Kristiansen 2008: 73). More specifically, we want to verify whether we find more outspoken style-shifts for the stereotype than for the indicator variable. The most focal non-lexical feature of CBD for Dutch language users concerns the singular second person pronoun. This feature has been subject to quite some metapragmatic discussion. Together with the strong propaganda for the standard forms in the Belgian Dutch education system, this has led Belgian Dutch speakers to be quite aware of the nonstandard nature of the CBD-forms (see Deprez & Geerts 1975; Vandekerckhove 2004). (5) u kan daar plaatsnemen ‘You can have a seat there’ ik kan u helpen ‘I can help you’ (6) je/jij kan daar plaatsnemen ‘You can have a seat there’ ik kan je/jou helpen ‘I can help you’ (7) ge/gij kunt daar plaatsnemen ‘You can have a seat there’ ik kan u helpen ‘I can help you’

For polite speech in highly formal situations, there is no variation between CBD and Standard Dutch: both use u in the nominal and oblique form (example (5)). However, in informal contexts (such as “Expeditie Robinson”), there is variation between the pronominal system of CBD and that of Standard Dutch. In Standard Dutch, the informal nominal forms are je/jij and the informal oblique forms are je/jou (example (6)).2 For CBD, ge/gij is used nominally, u is used for the oblique.3 Table 3 provides a summary of these forms (and see Vermaas 2002 and Berteloot 2003 for an overview of the historical evolution of the forms). Interestingly, research shows that the polite speech forms are losing ground: they are more and more reserved as a way to express social distance to an addressee with higher status in very formal contexts (Grezel 2003). For Netherlandic Dutch, this means a nearly exclusive use of je/jij/jou (Plevoets, Speelman & Geeraerts 2008: 193). For the Flemish, who are well aware of the fact that their address pronouns are different and less standard than those of Netherlandic Dutch speakers, this means alternation between the CBD-forms ge/gij/u and the more 2. The full forms are typically used to add emphasis. 3. In case of subject-verb inversion, the clitical variants -de (a relic from Middle-Dutch du) and -degij (a double form combining de and gij) also occur (e.g. hebdegij ‘do you have’).

Individual differences and in situ identity marking



Table 3.  Second person pronoun singular Register

Case

Standard Dutch

CBD

polite speech 

nominal

U

u

oblique

U

u

nominal

je/jij

ge/gij

oblique

je/jou

u

informal speech

standard forms je/jij/jou, depending on the discourse situation. More specifically, in higher registers and in the presence of Netherlandic Dutch speakers, a higher use of je/jij/jou can be expected (see Van den Toorn 1977; Grezel 2003). Our second feature, word-final t-deletion, is not awarded with any special attention in first language teaching. Additionally, a recent experimental study has revealed that there are no perceptual differences between neutral Dutch speech and Dutch speech containing word-final t-deletion (Grondelaers & Speelman 2013). Generally, Belgian Dutch speakers are less aware of the regional markedness of t-deletion than of the indexicality of the second person pronoun. This is further corroborated by analyses of sociolinguistic interviews with young Belgian Dutch parents concerning child-directed speech: parents typically reflect on their use of second person pronouns, but not on word-final t-deletion (see Van de Mieroop, Zenner & Marzo forthcoming for a first analysis). Word-final t-deletion primarily occurs in highly frequent function words such as dat ‘that’, wat ‘what’ or niet ‘not’ (see example (8) and (9)). (8) dat was niet echt de bedoeling ‘that was not really the idea’ (9) da was nie echt de bedoeling ‘that was not really the idea’

In the next section, more attention is paid to the way we measured the use of these two features by our twelve participants. 3.3

Individual speaker profiles

Despite the fact that the analyses we present below follow the third-wave sociolinguistic focus on style-shifting and identity creation in discourse, we adhere to first-wave sociolinguistics in treating the two CBD-features under scrutiny as quantifiable sociolinguistic variables. This means that the CBD-form and the standard variant are considered as formal variants that express the same linguistic

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function (see Labov 1972; and see the profile-based method of formal onomasiological variation as designed by Speelman, Grondelaers & Geeraerts 2003; Geeraerts, Grondelaers & Bakema 1994). Specifically, we count the amount of CBD-variants and standard variants of the two features under scrutiny in order to measure the relative preference for the CBD-variant. Three comments on this calculation need to be made. First, the standard variants are only counted in case the CBD-variant is a valid alternative for the standard form in the given context. Most importantly, word-final /t/’s are only counted when the /t/ can effectively be dropped in the given lexeme. For example, for words such as hand ‘hand’, tijd ‘tijd’ or uit ‘out’, /t/ is never dropped in our corpus. Hence, hand, tijd and uit are not considered for the counts of the standard realization of CBD t-deletion. Second, for the second person pronouns, the nominal and the oblique forms are conflated. Third, features occurring in reported speech have not been included in the calculations (example (10)). (10) *JUT: ondanks zijn rijkdom euh@fp (h)eeft (h)em ook een enorme innerlijke rijkdom vin(d) ik # de echte gentlemen eh@fp een heer die echt zo ja die voor de vrouwe(n) echt euh@fp dinge(n) doet en en dat (h) ij zegt “kom ik zal da(t) wel doen of dit is te zwaar voor jou ik doe da(t) wel” dus das [: dat is] wel echt (h)eel lief.. ‘Despite his wealth he also has an immense inner wealth I believe; the true gentleman that does things for women, and that he says “come here, I’ll do that, or that’s too heavy for you I’ll do it”, so yeah, that’s really nice’.

Table 4 provides an example of the calculation, demonstrating the relative preference for t-deletion by Meredith when aggregating over all Meredith’s utterances. Given our focus on style-shifting, such an aggregative count is of course not very revealing: we want to compare the relative preference for the CBD-variant across a number of different discourse situations. The substandard and typically Belgian nature of CBD leads us to focus on differences in register and group make-up. As concerns register, we contrast informal dialogues between the participants in their day-to-day activities on the island with the more formal dialogues at the Tribal Councils and the monological video diary fragments (see above), expecting to find a lower use of the CBD-variants in the latter situations. Table 4.  Relative preference for CBD-variant for Meredith (t-deletion) Speaker

t-del

Word-final t

%t-del

MER

335

55

335 / (335 + 55) = 85.9%

Individual differences and in situ identity marking



In the context of “Expeditie Robinson”, and more particularly taking the pressure to be liked by other participants into account, it is secondly very interesting to verify the impact of differences in group make-up on CBD-use. Focusing in on the informal dialogues, we contrast homogeneous Belgian conversations (example  (11)) with conversations where Netherlandic Dutch participants are also involved in the discourse (example (12)). In the latter situation, we might expect participants to converge their language use to the Netherlandic Dutch participants, aiming to come across as a likable person – the logic behind such accommodation strategies being that “linguistic distance eventually equals social distance” (Kristiansen 2008: 78; and see Giles’s Speech Accommodation Theory; e.g. Giles 2001). (11)



*GEE: (i)k ben der uitgestapt. *KAR: (h)oe gij zijt er uitgestapt? *GEE: wa(t) ne rollercoaster! *KAR: voor wa(t) da(t)? *GEE: ik moet u da(t) int [: in het] lang en int [: in het] breed uitlegge(n) # (i) k (h)eb mij late(n) wegstemme(n) # (i)k (h)eb u(w) record gebroke(n) # acht stemme(n). *KAR: gij kunt daar mee lache(n)! ‘*GEE: I quit. *KAR: what do you mean you quit? *GEE: what a rollercoaster! *KAR: why? *GEE: I have to explain you at length – I asked to be voted home, I broke your record: eight votes. *KAR: you think that’s funny?’

(12) *GEE: ik begrijp jou nou heel goed ik euh@fp ik kan met mijn beste vriende(n) een haat-liefdever(h)ouding (h)ebbe(n). *RYA: ja. *GEE: dus euh@fp in die zin a(l)s ik dat a(l)s ik jou dat zo zeg is dat echt niet bedoeld van euh@fp ik hoef jou niet # ik hoef jou niet. *RYA: maar ik snap (h)et ook helemaal # ja. ‘*GEE: at this point I really understand you quite well; even with my best friends I can have a love-hate relationship. *RYA: yes. *GEE: so in that sense if I say this to you this way, I don’t mean that I don’t like you. *RYA: yeah I totally get it, yes.’

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The classification of utterances in the different discursive situations is usually straightforward. Two exceptions can be noted. First, Jutta, who is a doctor, is asked for medical advice twice on the island. In these contexts, she shifts to very formal language use. Given that this shift is instigated by other factors than those we are interested in here, these utterances have been discarded from the analyses. Second, there is one instance of a formal dialogue that does not take place at the Tribal Council: in episode 12, Robin’s reward for winning a challenge is a private conversation with Bjorn (who had already been voted home), where he can convince Bjorn of his winner qualities. This conversation takes place in a formal setting (two high chairs are placed opposite each other) and Bjorn turns it into a severe cross examination concerning Robin’s vote against Franca. The utterances pertaining to this conversation are classified as formal discourse. Previous aggregational analyses of the use of CBD in “Expeditie Robinson” have revealed that both register and group make-up play an important role in explaining variation in the use of CBD on the island (Zenner, Geeraerts & Speelman 2009). When incorporated in a multifactorial regression analyses that also includes macro-­social parameters (such as age and gender of the participant) and other micro-­social parameters (such as emotional load of the conversation), register and group explain most of the attested variation in CBD-use. The impact of the two features is highly comparable, with a marginally stronger effect of register. When we cross-classify the two discourse situations and the two CBD features, we end up with four possible style-shifts per speaker: (1) adaptation to register for t-deletion; (2) adaptation to register for the addressee pronoun; (3) adaptation to group make-up for t-deletion; (4) adaptation to group make-up for the addressee pronoun. Instead of aggregating over the speakers in assessing the extent of these style-­shifts, we measure them for each speaker individually. An example of the resulting speaker profiles can be found in Table 5 (“S pron” stands for “standard pronoun”). All twelve speaker profiles are included in Appendix A. Table 5.  Speaker profile Meredith Discourse situation

t-del Word-­ %t-del Stats final t

CBD pron

S % CBD Stats pron PP

informal contexts

140

16

89.7%

p-value: NS

33

 6

84.6%

p-value: NS

formal context

195

39

83.3%

CV: NA

32

16

66.7%

CV: NA

homogeneous group

 88

 6

93.6%

p-value: NS

12

 2

85.7%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

 52

10

83.9%

CV: NA

21

 4

84.0%

CV: NA



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

The table not only lists the absolute counts and relative preference for the CBD-­variant, it also provides the output of two inferential statistical tests. The first is a Chi-square test, which verifies whether the association between the discursive context and the use of the linguistic marker reaches statistical significance, with p-values under 0.05 indicating significance. (In case of low expected cell values, a Fisher exact test – which can be interpreted in the same way – is used instead.) The second parameter, Cramer’s V, captures the strength of the association between the two variables, expressed in a value between zero and one that can be interpreted similar to Pearson’s correlation for numerical data: zero means no association, one means complete association. As Cramer’s V is only relevant for statistically significant associations, it is not calculated in case the Chi-square test reveals a p-value larger than 0.05. In those cases, “NA” is listed in the table. The main value of including these statistical tests is that it allows us to straightforwardly compare the strength of the style-shifts between the twelve participants. This comparison will be discussed at length in the following section. 4. Analyses and results: Comparing the speakers’ discourse strategies The speaker profiles show some individual differences in the average percentage of CBD-use for each feature. These differences are amongst others influenced by the regional background of the speaker. As most CBD-features find their origin in the Brabantic dialects, speakers from the provinces Vlaams-Brabant and Antwerp (such as Robin or Meredith) typically have a higher average for the CBD-­ features than speakers from other provinces (such as West-Flemish Marnix or East-­Flemish Emma). Moreover, a generally higher use of je/jij/jou can be found for the West-Flemish speakers (e.g. Bjorn and Matthias), as the je-system of address is part of most West-Flemish dialects. Also, we find a higher average use of CBD for the younger participants (such as Meredith or Giovanni) than for the older participants (such as Frank or Marnix), revealing a diachronic increase in the use of CBD. These macro-social differences in the use of CBD-features are however not our prime focus (see Plevoets 2008 and Zenner, Geeraerts & Speelman 2009 for research on the topic): we are mainly interested in micro-social patterns, most notably concerning the extent to which the speakers adapt their use of CBD to the discursive situation and what this reveals about their in situ identity on the island. In order to address this question, we compare the four patterns of style-shifting of the twelve speakers based on the Cramer’s V statistic.

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4.1

Style-shifting patterns for the twelve participants

The behavior of the twelve participants is compared in Table 6 and Table 7. Table 6 ranks the speakers from more to less evidence for register-shifts for both CBD features, Table 7 provides a similar ranking for style-shifts triggered by differences in group make-up. For both tables, the left-hand side shows the extent of the shifts for t-deletion (the feature below the level of awareness), and the right-hand side reveals the patterns for the addressee pronouns (located above the level of awareness). As noted above, the higher the Cramer’s V, the more the speaker adapts his/ her use of the CBD-feature to the situation. All significant shifts happen in the Table 6.  Overview strength of register-shifts per speaker Speaker Register shift T-DEL

Speaker Register shift PRON

CAR GEE EMM MAR BJO GIO MAT FRA ROB MIC JUT MER

EMM CAR FRA JUT GEE ROB MAT MIC MAR GIO MER BJO

0.431 0.420 0.281 0.225 0.185 0.134 0.119 0.114 NA NA NA NA

0.863 0.449 0.375 0.350 0.342 0.272 0.245 0.203 NA NA NA NA

Table 7.  Overview strength of shifts to group make-up in informal dialogues per speaker Speaker Group shift T-DEL

Speaker Group shift PRON

GEE EMM CAR MAR BJO GIO MAT FRA ROB MIC JUT MER

GEE CAR MAT FRA ROB MIC EMM JUT MAR GIO MER BJO

0.276 0.264 0.224 NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA

0.726 0.651 0.351 0.341 0.277 0.203 NA NA NA NA NA NA



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

same direction: from higher to lower use of CBD when shifting from less to more formal situations; and from higher to lower use of CBD when shifting from conversations without to conversations with Netherlandic Dutch participants (see Appendix A). The tables reveal a number of patterns. First, Table 6 shows that the results for register are generally rather comparable for the two features. The majority of the speakers show at least mild register-shifting: both for the stereotype and the indicator variable, there is a tendency to use less CBD in formal contexts. For Emma, we even notice a near-complete register shift in her use of the personal pronoun. This results from her consistent use of je/jij/jou as indefinite pronoun in her video diaries (example (13)), where the other participants mostly stick to ge/gij/u for generic reference (example (14)): (13) *EMM: aan de ene kant is vriendschap sluiten in dit spel iets heel moois eh@fp tis [: het is] prachtig # maar aan de andere kant maakt (h)et je wel juist moeilijk en en zwak.. ‘on the one hand making friends in this game is so amazing it’s beautiful, but on the other it makes it hard for you and it makes you weak’ (14) *ROB: ge wilt echt nog ete(n) ete(n) ma(ar) u(w) lijf kan gewoon nie(t) meer mee (h)et is een ongelooflijk maffe contradictie. ‘you really still want to eat but your body can’t take it anymore it’s a really weird contradiction’

Although some additional patterns can be found in Table 6, we turn our attention to Table 7, where the most outspoken differences between the participants and the variables can be found. First, comparing the variables, we see a clear impact of people’s awareness of a feature’s indexicality. For t-deletion, the norm appears to be no adaptation: only Geert, Carl and Emma show significant (but mild) style-­shifting. Moreover, the standard forms in Emma’s heterogeneous conversations seem to be motivated linguistically more than stylistically. Of the 16 cases of pronounced word-final /t/’s in her heterogeneous conversations, 8 are found in the bi-gram dat (h)ij ‘that he’. This could reveal a construction-specific preference for external sandhi (which needs to be validated by future research). In contrast, some very strong style-shifts are seen in the use of the personal pronoun. For Carl and Geert, we find near-complete shifts (a drop of 72% in the use of CBD for Geert, and a drop of 65% for Carl). For Matthias, Frank and Robin, we see differences of more than 25% between the two discursive situations. This contrast between both features indicates that adaptation to the Netherlandic Dutch speakers happens relatively consciously: we only find strong adaptation for the feature that is subject to meta-pragmatic discourse. Crucially, not all speakers appear to make this shift to the Netherlandic Dutch participants. Table 7 reveals two equally-­sized groups of speakers. On the

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one hand, we find speakers like Geert, Carl and Robin, who significantly adapt their addressee pronouns to the Netherlandic Dutch participants. On the other hand, speakers like Emma and Giovanni make no such significant change. The main question we would like to focus on for the remainder of this paper is what common features we can find for the participants in each of these two groups. 4.2

Participation is more important than winning – is it?

When scrutinizing the trajectories and behavior of the twelve participants during the game show, it turns out that there is one feature that neatly divides the speakers in the two groups shown on the right-hand side of Table 7, and that is their degree of strategic planning in the game. Overall, there are two classes of players in “Expeditie Robinson”: those that participate for the experience (e.g. in order to get to know more about themselves, to prove what they are worth or to get to know other people; example (15)) and those that come to win (example (16)). (15) *MER: maar das [: dat is] voor mij ook wel een extra motivatie denk ik om euh@fp om dervoor te gaan en euh@fp te late(n) bewijze(n) da(t) een achtienjarige da(t) ook kan doen en ook kan vechte(n). ‘but for me it’s an extra motivation, I think, to go for it and to prove that an eighteen-year-old can also do that, can also fight.’ (16) *CAR: je speelt mee om te winne(n) # je gaat nie(t) een spel meedoen om te zegge(n) a(l)s ik er na drie weke(n) uitlig is (h)et okay ja da(t) vind ik nie(t). ‘you play to win, you’re not gonna play a game to say it’s okay if I have to go home after three weeks, no, I don’t think so.’

The former category is mainly out to build relationships on the island and to enjoy nature. These participants also want to get as far in the game as they possibly can, but winning is not a prerequisite to make the Robinson experience worthwhile. This is reflected in their voting behavior. These participants disapprove of strategic voting, and instead vote for people they dislike or distrust, people they are disappointed in or people they feel would be better off going home (example (17)). (17) *JUT: ik ga stemme(n) op Eric omdat (h)ij mij zo toch een beetje te kenne(n) gegeven (h)eeft dat (h)ij tnogal [: het nogal] fysiek zwaar (h)eeft. ‘I’m going to vote for Eric because he sort of let me know that he’s physically having a hard time’

The latter group of people is only interested in one thing: making it to the next Tribal Council. These participants are typically occupied with counting votes,



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

making up voting schemes, changing alliances and setting up all sorts of constructs to safe-guard their position on the island (example (18)). (18) *GEE: mijn strategie momenteel is euh@fp Ryan mee te krijge(n) om op Giovanni te stemme(n) # ik maak met Ryan gewoon een deal # zo simpel is (h)et. ‘my strategy for the moment is to convince Ryan to vote for Giovanni, I’m just going to make a deal with Ryan – it’s as simple as that’

Based on what participants say about themselves and each other, it is possible to classify them in one of these two groups. Here, we present one case-study per group of speakers. In Appendix B, some quotes can be found that illustrate the behavior of the other participants. 4.2.1 Matthias We start off with a brief discussion of Matthias, who is one of the key strategists of season 5. At the start of the show, this 23-year old primary school teacher is part of the Belgian tribe. Initially, all members of the Belgian team are trapped in a cage without food; they are only allowed to move to their island once one of the participants decides to quit and leave the game. Matthias immediately makes his position clear: (19) *MAT: niemand gaa(t) voor de groep kieze(n) nu # waarom zou je # iedereen wil naar dat eiland. ‘no one is going to choose for the group at this stage, why would you – everyone wants to go to that island.’

Eventually, Sarah throws in the towel. After this first challenge, the atmosphere in the tribe is excellent, as the Belgian team is winning nearly all challenges. Quite early on, though, there are some conflicts between Mick and the other participants, up to the point where the others deliberately loose a challenge to be able to send Mick home at a Tribal Council. Matthias (Matt) actively takes part in this scheme, but stays friendly to Mick. Later, during the final Tribal Council, he explains that this behavior was part of his general tactic: (20) *MAT: één van men belangrijkste dinge(n) was en wat ik int [: in het] dagelijkse leven helemaal nie(t) zou doen dat is bijvoorbeeld a(l)s er iemand een verkeerd gedrag opstelt ja dan was (h)et nie(t) aa(n) mij om euh@ fp hen daar op te wijzen en dan liet ik (h)en gewoon lekker doen. ‘one of my most important tricks was – and I definitely wouldn’t do this in real life – is that if someone misbehaved then it wasn’t my job to point that out to them and then I’d just let them do their thing.’

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What the participants of the Belgian tribe do not know is that Mick is given a second chance as a castaway in a mangrove nearby, together with other participants that have been voted home at the Tribal Council. These castaways are reunited with the ‘originals’ during episode nine. Of course, this second merge entails a drastic re-organization of the power relations on the island. Darline and Mick describe Matt’s reaction to this unforeseen change as follows: (21) *DAR: Matt die zen mond stond ope(n) want Matt is constant aant [: aan het] rekene(n) en dieje zag eige(n)lijk zijn planning die is da(t) was zo dieje was in de war want da(t) ware(n) der ineens vijf en dan euh@fp op ee(n) moment da(t) zer [: ze er] geen vijf nie(t) meer verwachte(n) # (i)k kan begrijpe(n) dat (h)et mentaal heel moeilijk is. ‘Matt’s mouth was open because Matt is always counting and he basically – so his planning – he was confused – there were suddenly five at a time he didn’t expect another five; I can understand that it was mentally very hard.’ (22) *MIC: dieje zijn oogskes die ware(n) # zo echt schrikkeoogskes ken je da(t) a(l)s ge gaa(t) ne slag op u(w) muil krijge(n) dan (h)ebd(e) [: hebt ge] ook zo van die oogskes diejen (h)ad zo echt schrikoogskes oei oei de Mick is (h)ier tis [: het is] nie(t) waar # ja Matt is euh@fp ik denk dat (h)em euh@fp ne morele ne slag op zijne kop. ‘his little eyes were all – you know, little scaredy-pants eyes, the type you see when you’re going to get hit in the face, truly scaredy-pants eyes; “oh my, Mick is here oh no” – Matt is, I think he had a moral blow to the head.’

Another illustration of Matt’s strategic thinking happens right before this second merge. Up to that point, Matthias has been very close to Peter and Mohammed, two other members of the Belgian team. Both Peter and Mohammed have started suffering from the lack of food on the island and are now very weak. When Matthias wins a luxury treatment accompanied by a full three-course meal in one of the challenges and is asked to invite two friends, he asks Frank (a member of the Belgian tribe, but not really part of Matthias’s posse) and Marjolein (a former member of the Dutch tribe) along instead of his own, weakened, friends. In a video diary fragment, he explains his reasoning as follows: (23) *MAT: Mohammed is euh@fp heel zwak momenteel # (h)ij zou er zeker deugd aan (h)ebben om om dit te krijgen # Peter euh@fp ook # ja die voelt zich ook wa(t) verzwakt maar aan de andere kant # het zou dom zijn a(l)s ik euh@fp de zwakke nu euh@fp een een opkikker geef en dan later eige(n)lijk men graf zelf ga delven.



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

‘Mohammed is very weak for the moment, he’d definitely benefit from this award, Peter too yeah, he’s also feeling pretty weak, but on the other hand, it would be stupid if I gave the weaker participants some help, I’d just be digging my own grave that way.’

In the final tribal council, Mitchell summarizes Matthias’s gaming strategy quite well: (24) *MIT: euh@fp # ik denk da(t) da(t) voor hem dat (h)ij dat (h)ij gewoon Matthias (h)eeft ee(n) spel gespeeld (h)ij is altijd strategisch bezig geweest. ‘I think that for him, I think that Matthias has played a game, and has always played strategically.’

This combination of doing things differently than he would do them at home, choosing safe wins over helping his friends and of continuously keeping the progress of the game in mind is what makes Matthias a prime example of a strategic player. 4.2.2 Giovanni Giovanni (season 4) is a very different type of player. He does get himself involved in quite a lot of conflicts during his time on the island, but these are instigated by his rather inflammatory personality rather than by tactical considerations. A good example of this is his row with his best friend Judge over losing a battle. Giovanni is generally a bad loser, and in this specific instance takes out his frustration on Judge, who – in Gio’s opinion – is to blame for the loss of the team challenge. Moreover, as Judge is generally physically a bit weaker than Giovanni and has been complaining about being hungry, he has been given some extra meat at mealtime. Giovanni holds it against Judge that even with this special treatment he was not strong enough to win the challenge: (25) *GIO: dit is geen kleine misinschatting # webbe(n) [: we hebben] voorgelege(n) tot tot tot bij Judge we lage(n) nog voor we lage(n) nog nog één één handlengte voor dus da(t) moest zeker genoeg geweest zijn # tis [: het is] duidelijk gebleke(n) dat (h)em er nie(t) klaar voor was (h) ij kon nie(t) vooruit en euh@fp ja ik vind dit heel erg # ik ben (h)eel ontgoocheld # (i)k neem (h)et (h)em kwalijk # ja. ‘this is not a small misjudgment, we had a lead until Judge, we had a big lead so it had to be enough – it’s obvious that he wasn’t ready, he couldn’t move forward and yeah, I mind, I terribly mind and I’m disappointed, I blame him, yes.’

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At the following Tribal Council, he makes it clear that this was nothing but a little argument between good friends, that being able to speak your mind is nothing but proof of the fact that true friendship is possible within the context of “Expeditie Robinson”: (26) *GIO: ja en zoa(l)s da(t) (i)k kan ondervinde(n) dat [: dat het] normaal is da(t) ge af en toe eens een strubbeling (h)ebt en en (i)k denk da(t) ge dan ook wel euh@fp merkt of er echt vriendschap is of nie(t) en euh@fp ik denk da(t) da(t) nu zeker wel gebleken is # we zitte(n) hier nog altijd goed en da(t) is euh@fp # das [: dat is] tbelangrijkste [: het belangrijkste]. ‘yes and I think it’s normal to have a row every now and again and I think you notice whether there’s true friendship or not and I think there obviously is now, we’re still good here, and that’s what’s most important.’

All in all, Giovanni is a very genuine person: he is just as genuine in his anger and frustration as he is in his happiness for other participants. At the legendary balance challenge, Giovanni and Robin lose from Judge and Jutta; they do not get a place in the final Tribal Council and have to leave the island right before the finals. Despite his frustration over his own loss, he is truly impressed by Jutta’s performance and he is – in contrast with Robin – very happy for her: (27) *JUT: Gio zijnen blik da(t) vergeet ik nooit # da(t) was zo gemeend # echt # (ge)lijk me(t) Robin die (h)eeft mij ook vastgenome(n) ma(ar) da(t) was da(t) was anders. *JUD: ja ma(ar) die was nog euh@fp. *JUT: die was (h)eel erg teleurgesteld # ik voelde da(t) ook. *JUT: ma(ar) Gio die was zo # ja # die meende da(t) zo erg a(l)s die mij vastpakte van waauw # da(t) gaf zon goe(d) gevoel # echt zo zo oprecht. ‘*JUT: I’ll never forget the way Gio looked at me; it was so sincere, really, compared to Robin – he also gave me a hug, but it was so different. *JUD: yes but he was still. *JUT: he was very disappointed, I felt that. *JUT: but Gio was so, yeah, he meant it so badly when he held me, waauw, it gave me such a great feeling, really so so sincere.’

This genuine behavior is finally also reflected in Gio’s voting. When, during a private conversation, Robin tries to convince him to cast a strategic vote on Franca, he refuses:

Individual differences and in situ identity marking



(28) *ROB: Franca is gewoon # is verlies # punt dus ofwel voor u voor Judge a(l)s voor mij # Franca is voor meer a(l)s den (h)elft van de mense(n) a(l)s die moete(n) kiezen is gewoon Robinson # ja ik durf mijne kop daarop legge(n) allez of mij(n) gevoel zegt da(t) toch. *ROB: wij zijn echt op een punt gekome(n) dat (h)et echt nie(t) meer om emoties om gevoelens draait dus dit is puur op dit moment een spel da(t) tactisch wordt gespeeld. *GIO: (i)k (h)eb nog nooit probleme(n) g(eh)ad met Franca # Franca is gewoon ee(n) lieve warme vrouw en euh@fp ja zeer aangenaam gezelschap. *GIO: ma(ar) ik zou nie(t) op Franca stemme(n) # sorry # omda(t) ik u(w) redenatie nie(t) volg en ik (h)eb altij(d) gezegd # ik (h)eb (h)ier tot nu toe altijd gestemd op mij(n) gevoel en ik ga da(t) nie(t) verandere(n). ‘*ROB: Franca is just, is loss for us, period – either for you, for Judge or for me; Franca is for more than half of the people, if they have to choose, Robinson, yes, I bet my head on it – or at least that’s what my gut tells me. *ROB: we have reached a point where it’s no longer about emotions or feelings but purely, at this moment it’s purely a game that needs to be played tactically. *GIO: I have never had any problems with Franca, Franca is just a really nice warm lady and very nice company. *GIO: I wouldn’t vote for Franca, sorry, because I don’t follow your reasoning, and I’ve always said, I’ve so far always voted with my heart and I’m not going to change that.’

Although Giovanni eventually caves under Robin’s pressure and does vote for Franca at the next Tribal Council, his focus on sincere friendship combined with his generally emotional voting strategies and genuine and extraverted personality, Giovanni can be considered a prime example of a non-strategic player. 4.3

Style-shifting patterns for strategists and non-strategists

To summarize the results, we contrast the style-shifts of the strategists and the non-­strategists. Besides Matthias, other strategists are Frank, Carl, Robin and Geert. Besides Giovanni, other non-strategists are Emma, Marnix, Meredith and Jutta. Appendix B provides some quotes for each of these participants to illustrate their level of strategic involvement. The two remaining speakers, Bjorn and Mick, have been excluded from these aggregative analyses as they need to be considered as special cases. First, Mick is not included in the analyses because he spends several episodes in the mangrove with only two other participants, Klaar and

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64 Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

Ernestine. These three participants live together in a very small cabin in the middle of scrubland: (29) *MIC: (i)k zeg da(t) meende [: meent ge] nie(t) dat er (h)ier een kamp gaat in gemaakt worde(n) (h)ier in in dees slijk in in die drek # tstinkt [: het stinkt] (h)ier naar den bere(n)put ik zeg ‘I’m like, you’ve got to be kidding me, they made a camp-site here, in this mud, in this dung – I’m telling you, it smells of cesspool here.’

Given that the living conditions in the mangrove are rather extreme, a good social atmosphere is crucial. Adding that Klaar and Ernestine are both Netherlandic Dutch, the pressure to accommodate is significantly higher for Mick than for the other participants listed in Table 7. This makes it hard to conduct reliable comparisons. Second, we also excluded Bjorn from the aggregative analyses. Overall, Bjorn portrays a very low use of the CBD-features, specifically for the addressee pronoun. In his specific case, we might be more interested in looking for accommodation towards his Belgian Dutch colleagues (in the form of a higher use of ge/gij) than in finding shifts towards the Netherlandic Dutch participants. No such shifts are found. Interestingly, this lack of shift might be causally connected to Bjorn’s outcast identity on the island. This outcast identity has been discussed at length in Zenner & Van de Mieroop (forthcoming), but can be illustrated by means of two very telling corpus extracts: (30) *ILO: ja dat blijkt ook weer wat een achterbakse uit de klauwe(n) gegroeide tuinkabouter euh@fp Bjorn is met die vieze ranzige rode stipjes # maar euh@fp nee hij is euh@fp tis [: het is] een oneerlijke persoon ik (h)eb me echt int [: in het] begin echt in hem vergist en euh@fp ik kan (h)em nu helemaal nie(t) meer luchte(n) (i)k hoef (h)em (i)k kan (h) em nie(t) eens meer aankijke(n) # hoe echt wat voor gemene dinge(n) die gewoon over ons heeft gezegd dat vin(d) dat vin(d) ik gewoon niet kunne(n). ‘yes this shows once again what a sneaky grown-from-the-claws garden gnome Bjorn is with those dirty, rancid red dots but no he is, it is a dishonest person, I have really in the beginning really misjudged him and I can’t stand him at all anymore I should, I can’t look at him anymore now.’ (31) *GEE: Bjorn heef(t) vandaag al een heel duidelijk signaal gekrege(n) van Karen # en een aantal draaiende oge(n) van de andere meisjes dus ik vrees voor hem dat zijn manier van doen nog steeds binne(n) de groep hem niet ten goede zal kome(n) nee.

Individual differences and in situ identity marking



‘today, Bjorn got a very clear signal from Karen, and a number of rolling eyes from the other girls so I’m afraid for him that his way of being within the group will still not pay off no.’

To ensure a pure comparison of strategists and non-strategists, Bjorn is not included in the aggregative analyses. The comparison of the extent of style-shifting for the five strategists with the five non-strategists is shown in Figure 1 and Figure 2. Figure 1 shows the extent of register shifts for both groups, Figure 2 shows the extent of accommodation to the Netherlandic Dutch participants. In both figures, the upper pane shows the shifts in the average use of the personal pronoun, the lower pane shows shifts in t-deletion. The dark-blue colored bars show the relative preference for the CBDform, the light-blue bars show the relative preference for the standard form. The plots reveal that for three of the four situations, the extent of the shifts made by the strategists and the non-strategists is highly similar. Both groups of speakers show significant but mild accommodation to register in their use of both linguistic features, and both groups show significant but mild adaptation to Netherlandic Dutch participants in their use of t-deletion in informal contexts. Additionally, previous findings from multifactorial regression analyses on the relative impact of the features are supported for t-deletion: the relative impact of register 1

PersPron Strategists

1

0.8

0.8

0.6

0.6

0.4

0.4

0.2

0.2

0

1

inform

form

T-Del Strategists

0

1

0.8

0.8

0.6

0.6

0.4

0.4

0.2

0.2

0

inform

form

0

PersPron Non-Strategists

inform

form

T-Del Non-Strategists

inform

Figure 1.  Register shifts for strategists and non-strategists

form

65

66 Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

PersPron Strategists

1

1

0.8

0.8

0.6

0.6

0.4

0.4

0.2

0.2

0

inf.heterog

inf.homo

T-Del Strategists

1

0

1

0.8

0.8

0.6

0.6

0.4

0.4

0.2

0.2

0

inf.heterog

inf.homo

0

PersPron Non-Strategists

inf.heterog

inf.homo

T-Del Non-Strategists

inf.heterog

inf.homo

Figure 2.  Shifts to group make-up in informal dialogues for strategists and non-strategists

and group make-up on CBD use is highly comparable, both for the strategists and for the non-strategists. However, some important differences can be noted concerning the way the strategists’ and the non-strategists’ use je/jij, our stereotype variable. For the strategists, we see a significant shift with a Cramer’s V of 0.42: in their informal conversations with Netherlandic Dutch participants, the strategists (deliberately) increase their use of the Netherlandic Dutch address forms je/jij/jou, presumably as a means to come across as more alike and hence more likeable. Such active PRwork is not found in the language use of the non-strategists (where no significant shift can be found): they stay true to their Belgian Dutch address forms ge/gij/u. 5. Conclusion The specific design of the game show we studied has helped us to reveal how social identity work can be conducted through linguistic markers. More specifically, as participants become quite aware of their own social position within the context of the “Expeditie Robinson” contest, this seems to cause some participants to become actively involved in molding their social position: in order to stay on the island as long as possible, participants do what they can to avoid being voted



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

home in the next Tribal Council. One crucial factor in that respect is to be liked by other participants: when consciously trying to extend one’s stay on the island, some PR-effort is almost unavoidable. As our data reveal, language provides one important tool to conduct such PR-work. More specifically, we have shown how the degree of accommodation from the speakers of Belgian Dutch to a Netherlandic Dutch audience in informal contexts correlates with the level of strategic involvement of the players. Interestingly, this association between the level of conscious gaming and style-shifting was found for the use of the addressee pronouns ge/gij/u, which forms a very focal feature of CBD, but not for t-deletion, a feature that according to a recent experimental study does not impact perception (Grondelaers & Speelman 2003). For register shifts, by contrast, we see very similar results for the two groups and the two features. We attribute this to the fact that changes between formal and informal registers are primarily triggered by situational features of the island context, and as such, are less tied to social profiling. The general pattern we found seems to be that the more involved with the game a player is, the more he/she uses the pronouns of address as a discourse strategy. The strategic speakers flex their identities – or the targeted perception thereof – as an attempt to fall in the grace of the participants they interact with, hoping to buy themselves a ticket to the next round of the game (see Kristiansen 2008: 67 on cause-effect metonymies and style-shifting). Interestingly, these speakers usually do not make it to the finals, so it might be that if style-shifting and accommodation are too consciously used to influence social perception, the intended social effect of convergence is reversed. In those cases, bridging linguistic distance does not necessarily help to bridge social distance. Future research will have to verify this claim by disentangling the complex interplay of production, perception and attitudes on style-shifting. From a slightly broader perspective, the methodological and theoretical consequences of our findings may be spelled out. Methodologically speaking, it is important to emphasize that we were only able to reveal the difference in the use of the linguistic markers by conducting a bottom-up analysis of the individual speaker’s use of two linguistic features across different discursive contexts, supported by inferential statistical analyses to assess the strength of the associations. As such, this paper illustrates how combining Cognitive Sociolinguistics, variationist sociolinguistics and interactional sociolinguistics can lead to promising new insights in the strategic use of linguistic markers. Theoretically speaking, our results suggest an extension of interactional sociolinguistics. The interactional perspective was introduced in sociolinguistic research to counteract the static nature of classical Labovian sociolinguistics, in which the emphasis lies on relatively stable social characteristics of speakers. Interactional sociolinguistics calls attention

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to the flexibility of speakers in linguistically building their social identity, but in the present study we see that that flexibility itself is variable: the manner and the degree in which speakers exhibit interactional flexibility depends on situational and speaker-related features, including less traditional characteristics like the competitive spirit of the “Expeditie Robinson” contestants. We would like to suggest that this higher-order interaction between situation- and speaker-­related features and interactional flexibility constitutes a major new perspective for contemporary sociolinguistics.

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Appendix A: Speaker profiles Discourse situation

t-del

Word-final t

%t-del

Stats

CBD pron

S pron

% CBD pron

Stats

BJO informal contexts

149

96

60.8%

p-value < 0.0001

9

65

12.2%

formal context

107

146

42.3%

CV: 0.185

1

33

2.9%

p-value: NS

homogeneous group

34

19

64.2%

p-value: NS

3

22

12.0%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

115

77

59.9%

CV: NA

6

43

12.2%

CV: NA

informal contexts

111

27

80.4%

p-value: NS

25

2

92.6%

p-value: 0.02

formal context

108

34

76.1%

CV: NA

16

9

64.0%

CV: 0.350

homogeneous group

28

3

90.3%

p-value: NS

10

1

90.9%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

83

24

77.6%

CV: NA

15

1

93.8%

CV: NA

40

30

57.1%

p-value < 0.001

6

24

20.0%

CV: 0.342

32

2

94.1%

p-value < 0.0001

8

28

22.2%

CV: 0.726

CV: NA

JUT

GEE informal contexts

101

56

64.3%

p-value < 0.0001

formal context

32

110

22.5%

CV: 0.420

homogeneous group

56

15

78.9%

p-value < 0.001

heterogeneous group

45

41

52.3%

CV: 0.276

informal contexts

171

66

72.2%

p-value: NS

50

19

72.5%

p-value: 0.002

formal context

189

79

70.5%

CV: NA

32

38

45.7%

CV: 0.272

homogeneous group

44

11

80.0%

p-value: NS

16

1

94.1%

p-value: 0.03

heterogeneous group

127

55

69.8%

CV: NA

34

18

65.4%

CV: 0.277

ROB

Individual differences and in situ identity marking

Discourse situation

t-del

Word-final t

%t-del

Stats

CBD pron

S pron

% CBD pron

73

Stats

GIO informal contexts

171

69

71.3%

p-value: 0.002

70

2

97.2%

p-value: NS

formal context

172

123

58.3%

CV: 0.134

32

1

97.0%

CV: NA

homogeneous group

64

25

71.9%

p-value: NS

26

1

96.3%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

107

44

70.9%

CV: NA

44

1

97.8%

CV: NA

informal contexts

204

62

76.7%

p-value: 0.009

94

15

86.2%

p-value < 0.0001

formal context

174

88

66.4%

CV: 0.114

38

35

52.1%

CV: 0.375

homogeneous group

63

24

72.4%

p-value: NS

46

0

100.0%

heterogeneous group

141

38

78.8%

CV: NA

48

15

76.2%

CV: 0.341

informal contexts

118

26

81.9%

p-value: 0.02

9

25

26.5%

p-value: 0.03

formal context

153

61

71.5%

CV: 0.119

4

44

8.3%

homogeneous group

55

13

80.9%

p-value: NS

6

7

46.2%

p-value: 0.05

heterogeneous group

63

13

82.9%

CV: NA

3

18

14.3%

CV: 0.351

informal contexts

259

81

76.2%

p-value: NS

109

15

87.9%

p-value: 0.02

formal context

134

57

70.2%

CV: NA

23

10

69.7%

CV: 0.203

homogeneous group

77

16

82.8%

p-value: NS

39

1

97.5%

p-value: 0.04

heterogeneous group

182

65

73.7%

CV: NA

70

14

83.3%

CV: 0.203

FRA

p-value < 0.001

MAT CV: 0.245

MIC

74

Eline Zenner, Gitte Kristiansen and Dirk Geeraerts

Discourse situation

t-del

Word-final t

%t-del

Stats

CBD pron

S pron

% CBD pron

Stats

EMM informal contexts

155

34

82.0%

p-value < 0.0001

48

3

94.1%

formal context

121

96

55.8%

CV: 0.281

4

47

7.8%

p-value < 0.0001

homogeneous group

127

18

87.6%

p-value < 0.001

40

1

97.6%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

28

16

63.6%

CV: 0.264

8

2

80.0%

CV: NA

217

69

75.9%

p-value < 0.0001

64

40

61.5%

p-value < 0.0001

59

123

32.4%

CV: 0.431

8

47

14.5%

CV: 0.449

homogeneous group

135

25

84.4%

p-value < 0.001

42

0

100.0%

heterogeneous group

82

44

65.1%

CV: 0.224

22

40

35.5%

CV: 0.651

informal contexts

140

16

89.7%

p-value: NS

33

6

84.6%

p-value: NS

formal context

195

39

83.3%

CV: NA

32

16

66.7%

CV: NA

homogeneous group

88

6

93.6%

p-value: NS

12

2

85.7%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

52

10

83.9%

CV: NA

21

4

84.0%

CV: NA

CV: 0.863

CAR informal contexts formal context

p-value < 0.0001

MER

MAR informal contexts

80

40

66.7%

p-value < 0.0001

16

3

84.2%

p-value: NS

formal context

98

130

43.0%

CV: 0.225

68

5

93.2%

CV: NA

homogeneous group

45

21

68.2%

p-value: NS

11

3

78.6%

p-value: NS

heterogeneous group

35

19

64.8%

CV: NA

5

0

100.0%

CV: NA



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

Appendix B: Quotes per speaker Strategists Geert Geert created a strategic voting alliance with Eric against Ryan. When Eric has to leave home due to physical complaints, Geert goes for a complete change of strategy, and now tries to get Ryan on board for his voting schemes (see example (11) above). This is only one of his many different strategic moves on the island. *GEE: de stem van Eric tege(n) Ryan is weggevalle(n) dus ik ben euh@fp in die zin de pionne(n) aan (h)et herschikke(n). ‘Eric’s vote against Ryan is now gone and in that sense I’m not re-arranging the pawns in the playing field’. Carl In season 6, a special extra is that – as of the merge of the two tribes – participants are allowed to cast more than one vote at each Tribal Council. They each receive six votes, and it is up to them to decide when they want to use how many votes. Carl, who was already quite involved with voting schemes at the start of the game (see example (2) above, drawn from episode 5), is now completely obsessed with counting votes. He even believes that staying on the Winner’s Island (a special retreat in season 5 where participants do not have to take part in the challenges, get to keep their votes and have all the food they want) is a drawback more than a benefit: *CAR: ge kunt (h)ier zo wel efkes u(w) stemme(n) behouden en zo maar gebt [: ge hebt] geen idee (h)oe dat [: dat het] spel evolueert # ge weet nie(t) euh@fp # ja zijn der irritaties euh@fp. ‘you can keep your votes here for a while but you have no idea how the game is evolving; you don’t know about any irritations and stuff ’ Frank In season 5, Frank quickly attains a de facto leader status: the other participants look up to him and he often has a mediating function in arguments. He is a far less outspoken strategic player than the other strategists in the three season, but it is nevertheless obvious that he is on the island to win. Occasionally, there is a slip of the tongue that reveals his strong desire to win, no matter what. For example, in the fragment below, Frank is showing Marjolein, who is part of Frank’s posse at the time of reference, how to fillet a fish. This turns into a bit of an argument. Despite the promise within Frank’s posse (consisting of Frank, Marjolein and Matthias) to not vote for each other, Frank makes it clear that he has enough power on the island to send Marjo­ lein home, if she doesn’t change her behavior: *FRA: ge moet (h)em schrape(n) # pakt (h)em (h)ier op de graat en doe da(t) naar daar dan (h)ebd(e) [: hebt ge] alles. *MAJ: ja ja ja ja ja. *FRA: da(t) kunde [: kunt ge] nie(t) verdragen eh@fp # da(t) (i)k (h)et beter weet. *MAJ: nee ma(ar) dan mag jet [: je het] zelf doen a(l)s jet [: je het] beter weet # sprima [: is prima]. *FRA: ey nie(t) chagrijnig worden eh@fp poepeke of (i)k gaan u verzuipe(n) ze.

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‘*FRA: you have to scarpe it; don’t take it up on the bone and put that down there and then you have it all. *MAT: yeah yeah. *FRA: you can’t take that can you, that I know better. *MAJ: no but just do it yourself then if you know better –fine by me. *FRA: hey don’t get all cranky on me, doll-face, or I’ll drown you.’ Robin For Robin, we have one video diary fragment (from episode 8) where he explicitly comments on his own gaming strategy:

*ROB: de vraag is (h)ier regelmatig gesteld van ben je hier volledig jezelf # ja # maar # me(t)

heel wa(t) tactische overweginge(n) # natuurlijk # mijn tactische overweginge(n) die weet niemand of hoort niemand die spele(n) alleen maar in mijn hoofd af # één basisregel is da(t) je dit spel maar kan bekijken eige(n)lijk van eilandraad tot eilandraad # regel twee is en dit is een heel belangrijke basisregel in (h)et spel is da(t) je moet zien da(t) je me(t) iedereen de dag kan doorkome(n) op een toffe manier # a(l)s dat niet (h)et geval is is de kans groot da(t) je daardoor wordt afgestraft en drie # vermijdt achterklap # dat zijn drie basisregels die ik in acht houd ## mense(n) # (i)k ben mijn best aant [: aan het] doen en tis [: het is] nog altijd de bedoeling da(t) (e)kik me(t) vijftigduizend euro thuiskom. ‘the question has been asked repeatedly: “are you being yourself here”; yes, but – of course – with quite a lot of tactical considerations, my tactical considerations that no one knows or hears that are only present in my head; one basic rule is that you can only evaluate the game from Tribal Council to Tribal Council; rule two – and this is a very important basic rule – is that you have to make sure that you can get through the day in a pleasant way with everyone, if not, the odds are pretty big that you’ll be punished for that; and rule three: avoid gossiping; those are the ground rules I keep in mind – people, I’m doing my very best and it’s still the idea that I come home with fifty thousand euro.’

Non-strategists Meredith From the very start of the show, Meredith makes it perfectly clear that she is not interested in voting schemes. When in episode 5, Esther suggests Meredith, Wim and herself could form a group against the elder participants on the island, she is so appalled by the proposal that she casts a vote on Esther at the next Tribal Council. Moreover, when she is voted home in episode 12, she emphasizes that she does not feel too bad, because in the end, Robinson is nothing but a game: *MER: gulle staat allemaal te janke(n) en ik sta ik sta (h)ier # komaan zeg # verdomme # eh@ fp # das [: dat is] nie(t) teinden [: het einde] eh@fp seg # tis [: het is] ee(n) spel # eh@ fp. ‘you’re all crying and I’m here like, come on, damn, it’s not the end of the world – it’s just a game you know!’



Individual differences and in situ identity marking

Emma As explained above, season 6 is characterized by a special rule for the Tribal Councils: as of the tribe merge, participants are free to choose how many of their six votes they want to use each Tribal Council. This means a whole new level of strategic playing, that makes Emma very unhappy, as she believes that her way of playing will backfire. Most telling, however, is her opinion of Carl, whom she spends some days with on the Winner’s Island: *EMM: hier word je vier dage(n) gedwonge(n) om met die persoon same(n) te leve(n) te luistere(n) naar die man euh@fp ik kan (h)ier moeilijk weglopen en in men eentje gaan zitte(n) want dat is gewoon kinderachtig # (h)et is een man die mij niet echt ligt euh@ fp qua karakter en zeker niet euh@fp qua manier van spele(n) # hij wil kost wat kost winne(n) euh@fp ja ik heb er eige(n)lijk drie woorde(n) voor # zelfvoldaan # hyperkinetisch en euh@fp ontzettend berekend # hij probeert mense(n) te beschuldige(n) hij probeert Meredith zwart te maken # insinueert ontzettend veel dinge(n) # ja hij is zichzelf helemaal gek aan (h)et make(n) hier. ‘here, you’re forced to spend four days with this person, to listen to this guy, I can’t run away here and go sit by myself because that’s just childish; he’s a man that really doesn’t suit me, personality-wise but certainly not in his way of playing the game; he’s purely here to win – I’ve got three words to describe him: self-satisfied, hyperkinetic and very very calculated, he tries to accuse people, he tries to incriminate Meredith, he is constantly making insinuations, yeah he’s making himself crazy here.’ Jutta Jutta is the winner of season 4. When she is asked about her motivations at the final Tribal Council, she summarizes her position on the island quite well: *JUTT: mijn doel in dees Expeditie was eige(n)lijk vooral rust vinde(n) en ook eige(n)lijk meer geconfronteerd worde(n) me(t) mezelf dus echt nog nog meer aspecte(n) van mijzelf lere(n) kenne(n) en # (i)k (h)eb da(t) zeker bereikt ja. ‘my goal during this Expedition was mainly to find peace and to be confronted with myself, getting to know even more about myself, and yes, I have definitely attained that goal.’ Marnix After an initial stay on a special castaway island, Marnix is awarded with the role of leader of one of the two tribes on the island. In this task, he mainly focuses on team spirit, and on ensuring a pleasant atmosphere on the island. As his main motivation to take part in Robinson was to prove that he had completely overcome cancer, enjoying life on the island is by far more important than strategic playing. This is most obvious in his reaction on Carl’s way of playing: *MAR: ikzelf ik ben me(t) met (h)et spel nog nie(t) bezig zelfs ik ik (h)eb nog geen enkele tactische zet moeten doen # voor mij was da(t) contrast tussen euh@fp (h)et berekende gedrag van Carl euh@fp heel moeilijk en ja. ‘I didn’t really get involved with playing the game yet – I haven’t made one tactical move so far; for me, the contrast with Carl’s highly calculated behavior was very hard to deal with.’

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The persuasive (and manipulative) power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse A corpus-based analysis of embodied and moral metaphors of austerity in the Portuguese press Augusto Soares da Silva

Catholic University of Portugal

This chapter analyses the persuasive power of metaphors used in the Portuguese press to justify the implementation of harsh austerity policies. The analysis relies on a corpus of news and opinion articles published in June-July 2011, after the entry of the Troika, and May 2013, when protests against the austerity policies intensified. The study adopts a socio-cognitive view of language following the promising convergence between Cognitive Linguistics and Critical Discourse Analysis, and the corpus-based and critical discourse-based approach to conceptual metaphor. Using the target-domain method for corpus-based metaphor identification, 1,151 austerity-related metaphorical expressions associated with eight target lexemes were gathered, which include great chain of being, image schemas, and event/action metaphors. The analysis reveals the persuasive and manipulative force of certain specific metaphors, such as obesity/ diet, indebted family, good student, and sacrifice. These socially-embodied metaphors are grounding in moral cultural models and serve ideological, emotional and moral purposes. Keywords: conceptual metaphor, Cognitive Linguistics, Critical Discourse Analysis, embodiment, situatedness, political and economic discourse, persuasion, ideology, morality, corpus-based analysis

1. Introduction Austerity is an action word which means the process of implementing economic measures and policies that lead to discipline, rigor, and economic, social and cultural contention and reduction through a combination of spending cuts and tax

doi 10.1075/pbns.262.04soa © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

80 Augusto Soares da Silva

rises.1 It is a by-product of the global financial crisis, and has been a buzzword of recent years, to the extent that we now speak of the austerity society, the culture of austerity or the era of austerity. It was chosen as word of the year in 2013 by the Portuguese. Austerity is an economic policy with a huge covert ideological charge and an influential moral reach. Metaphor is a powerful conceptual and discourse strategy to frame economic, political and social austerity issues and to serve ideological, emotional and moral purposes. Through it, the strongly mediatized political and economic debate about austerity measures and policies becomes effectively persuasive and manipulative. Indeed, we tend to conceptualize more abstract domains by highlighting their conceptual similarity with more immediate and concrete domains, a metaphorical mapping that is grounded in our individual, collective and cultural experience, that is to say, in our socio-culturally situated embodiment. The experiential motivations of metaphor and its cognitive power make it a powerful strategy for persuasion, manipulation and the transmission of ideologies. The conceptual metaphor is thus constitutive of the political and economic discourse constructed and disseminated by the media, and its cognitive and persuasive power has been researched in various cognitive linguistics studies (e.g. Lakoff 1996; Chilton 1996; Charteris-Black 2004, 2005, 2013; Koller 2004, 2013; Musolff 2004; Soares da Silva 2006; Moreno Lara 2008; Herrera-Soler & White 2012). Economic austerity is a topic that is susceptible to metaphorical conceptualization and persuasion, just like the global systemic financial crisis (Rojo López & Orts Llopis 2010, Soares da Silva 2013a). This study describes a corpus-based analysis of the persuasive and manipulative power of metaphor in the discourse of the Portuguese press, concerning the harsh austerity policies implemented by the Portuguese government in order to solve the serious economic crisis in Portugal. In April 2011, Portugal had to request external financial assistance, and the new Portuguese government, which came into power in June of the same year, had to implement a series of harsh austerity measures that were recommended by the Troika (i.e. the European Commission, European Central Bank and International Monetary Fund). Three years

1. This study was funded by the Portuguese Foundation for Science and Technology, as part of a research project. Short versions of this chapter were presented at the Corpus-Based Approaches to Figurative Language: Metaphor and Austerity, a Corpus Linguistics 2013 Workshop, held at Lancaster University, in July 2013, and the Workshop on Strategies of Persuasion held during the 47th Annual Meeting of the Societas Linguistica Europaea, at Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań, in September 2014. I am grateful to the respective audiences for their comments.



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

later, the government opted to make a “clean exit” from the Troika’s program of financial assistance. The analysis relies on a corpus of news and opinion articles published over two time periods: June-July 2011, after the entry of the Troika and the announcement of the first austerity measures by the new government, and May 2013, when protests against the austerity policies intensified. The study adopts a socio-­cognitive view of language following the promising convergence between Cognitive Linguistics and Critical Discourse Analysis (Charteris-Black 2005; Dirven et al. 2007; Hart 2010, 2014, 2015), and the corpus-based and critical discourse-based approach to conceptual metaphor (Stefanowitch & Gries 2006; Semino 2008; Steen 2011). After specifying the theoretical and methodological aspects of the study in the next section, we identify and interpret the conceptual metaphors regarding austerity policies revealed by the corpus study, and then explain the persuasive and manipulative functions of the austerity-related metaphors, highlighting their ideology and morality. 2. Theoretical and methodological background: Corpus-based and discourse-based socio-cognitive approach to conceptual metaphor 2.1

Theory

This study adopts a socio-cognitive view of language following the promising convergence between Cognitive Linguistics (Geeraerts & Cuyckens 2007) and Critical Discourse Analysis (Chilton 2004; Charteris-Black 2005; Dirven et al. 2007; Hart 2010, 2014, 2015; Koller 2014). More specifically, it follows the framework of Conceptual Metaphor Theory (Lakoff & Johnson 1980, 1999), especially the current trend of corpus-based and discourse-based approaches to conceptual metaphor (Charteris-Black 2004; Stefanowitch & Gries 2006; Vereza 2007, 2013; Semino 2008; Musolff & Zinken 2009; Sardinha 2011; Steen 2011, 2014). Metaphor as a discourse conceptual strategy of persuasion and manipulation is a privileged research topic in the conception of language as a product of distributed cognition, synergic cognition, socio-culturally situated cognition, a product of a socially-conditioned, activity-driven cognition (Bernárdez 2008; Frank et al. 2008; Zlatev et al. 2008; Pishwa 2009) – a conception that is currently being explored by the “second generation” of cognitive sciences and cognitive linguistics. The discursive strategies of political and economic communication imply cognitive processes such as metaphor and mental representations about politics and economics, and those acting in them, and these mental representations and processes are constructed in discursive social interaction (Soares da Silva 2013b).

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The study of conceptual metaphor cannot therefore be disconnected from the sociocultural context or from discourse interaction. Standard Conceptual Metaphor Theory, originating in Lakoff & Johnson (1980) and synthesized in Kövecses (2002) studies metaphor in a decontextualized and universalist way. However, metaphors are fully contextualized, both socio-culturally situated and discursively constructed. The study of metaphor in real discourse (such as political or economic discourse) shows how metaphor not only helps us understand the world but also how it functions as a strategy of emotional and ideological persuasion and manipulation. Ideology is an essential dimension of political and economic metaphor, and so the synergy between Cognitive Linguistics and Critical Discourse Analysis is stimulating, giving rise to cognitive critical metaphor analysis and cognitive critical ideology analysis. The contextual and discursive approach to metaphor implies an empirical methodology such as the corpus-based approach. The discourse-based and corpus-based socio-cognitive perspective is fruitful for the two main issues involved in metaphor analysis, i.e. the identification of the metaphors in the corpus and the interpretation of their function in discourse. 2.2

Methods

Assuming a usage-based and dynamic view of metaphor, we have developed a quantitative corpus-based analysis able to provide empirical evidence that helps identify austerity metaphors and explain their socio-cognitive and discursive functions. There are three possible ways of identifying metaphors in a non-­annotated corpus: (i) searching manually for metaphors; (ii) searching for metaphorical expressions which contain words from their source domains; and (iii) searching for metaphorical expressions which contain words from their target domains. We have opted for the target domain method for corpus-based metaphor identification, as proposed by Stefanowitsch (2006) and applied by Rojo López & Orts Llopis (2010) in their research about conceptual metaphors of the global systemic crisis. The analysis starts from a set of lexical items belonging to the target domain, and then performs a concordance analysis to identify the metaphorical expressions associated with the relevant target concepts. The corpus-based target domain method provides a more complete inventory of metaphorical mappings, avoiding the onomasiological dangers involved in the most popular source domain perspective. As Geeraerts (2010: 232) points out, an initial selection of possible source domains may mean that relevant source domains are overlooked, as well as that the literal references to the target are ignored. The metaphorical expressions to which the target concepts and lexical items belong are identified as metaphorical patterns, and groups of conceptual mappings



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

are established on the basis of the metaphors they instantiate. The identification of a metaphorical pattern is based on the syntactic/semantic frame in which the target lexeme occurs. Furthermore, it is also supported by the existence of similar patterns in the source domain. For example, in our study, the lexeme Estado (‘state’) was selected as one of the target domains of austerity. A search for its occurrences in the corpus yielded the metaphorical expression as gorduras do Estado (‘the fat of the state’). This expression is then identified as the metaphorical pattern ‘the fat of the NP’, in which there are also lexemes from the source domain, such as as gorduras do corpo (‘body fat’). The pattern as gorduras do Estado (‘the fat of the state’) is then considered to instantiate the metaphor the state is an obese body. In order to increase the potential of the method to identify austerity-related metaphors, searches were made for 8 key words from the target domains of economics, finance and politics directly associated with austerity policies. The Portuguese words selected were: austeridade ‘austerity’, corte ‘cut’, dívida ‘debt’, Estado ‘state’, orçamento ‘budget’, pobreza ‘poverty’, poupança ‘saving’, and Troika ‘Troika’. The searches included all the derivatives of each lexeme; for instance, the noun corte ‘cut’ and the verb cortar ‘to cut’, and the noun dívida ‘debt’, the verb endividar ‘to get into debt’, the adjective endividado ‘debt-ridden’ and the abstract noun endividamento ‘debt’/‘indebtedness’. Our corpus contains austerity-related news and opinion articles extracted from the daily newspaper Público and published in two time periods: (i) June– July 2011, after the entry of the Troika and the announcement of the first austerity measures by the new government, and (ii) May 2013, when protests against the austerity policies, the government and the Troika intensified. The corpus was divided into two subcorpora: Corpus A (2011) and Corpus B (2013). Corpus A contains articles from 15th June to 15th July 2011, dating from shortly after the request for external financial assistance (April 2011) and the agreement with the Troika (May 2011). The main political events of this period include: (i) the investiture of the new centre-right coalition government on 21st June, headed by Pedro Passos Coelho after winning the election on 5th June following the resignation of former socialist Prime-Minister José Sócrates; (ii) the announcement of the first austerity measures recommended by the Troika (for instance, on 30th June the Prime-Minister announced a 50% cut in the Christmas allowance, breaking a promise he made during the electoral campaign); and (iii) the cut by Moody’s rating agency of Portugal’s rating by four levels, putting the country’s debt into junk category. Corpus B includes articles from 28th April to 28th May 2013. After two years of austerity measures, protests intensified against the government, the Troika, and the European Union. Public perception that austerity policies were wrong started to spread. The main political events were (i) the Constitutional Court’s rejection

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of the government measures to cut the holiday allowance and create a tax on illness and unemployment allowances at the beginning of April; (ii) the difficult agreement during the Troika’s seventh assessment on 12th May; and (iii) political tensions within the government centre-right coalition, and the political crisis in June, which led to the resignation of ministers and almost resulted in the breakup of the coalition. All the editions published between 15th June and 15th July 2011 and 28th April and 28th May 2013 were included. We collected the news and opinion articles that dealt with political, economic and social issues related to austerity policies in Portugal. These issues include the implementation of austerity measures, the Troika’s recommendations and assessments, the performance of the Portuguese government, the financial and economic crisis, and the impact of social, economic and political austerity, namely unemployment, recession, demonstrations and protests and threats of political crisis. Journalistic texts dealing with the same subjects in other countries (such as Greece, Ireland and Spain) were excluded. The corpus analysis was organized into three main stages. Firstly, we searched for all the hits or occurrences of the 8 aforementioned target lexemes and their derivatives in the corpus, and then we isolated all the hits that constitute metaphorical expressions or, more precisely, metaphorical patterns in the sense given above. For this selection of the metaphorical uses of each target lexeme, we eliminated not only literal uses but also metaphors unrelated to austerity policies and those dealing with countries other than Portugal. Secondly, every metaphorical pattern was individually analyzed, taking into account the nature of the source domain, the type of motivation and the mappings established across the domains, and was subsequently classified under a specific conceptual metaphor. For instance, the metaphorical expressions gorduras do Estado ‘fat of the state’, emagrecimento do Estado ‘slimming-down of the state’ and o Estado tem que fazer dieta ‘the state must go on a diet’ are different instantiations of the specific conceptual metaphor the state is an (obese) body, which, in turn, is an instantiation of the higher-level metaphor the state is a person and the economy is a person. These metaphors will be grouped within the category of metaphors based on the great chain of being (see below). Thirdly, we compared the metaphorical expressions of Corpus A (2011) and Corpus B (2013), in order to detect possible differences in the use of metaphorical language to conceptualize austerity policies or to serve a certain political, economic or social interest. Specifically, we analyzed which of these metaphors were used in a positive or negative sense, as well as possible changes in the positive/negative sense between the two time periods. A positive or negative value was assigned taking into account the context in which



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

the metaphorical expression was used. Our hypothesis predicted that the articles written in 2011 when the new government was coming into power, and the first austerity measures were announced (Corpus A) would have a higher number of positive metaphors, whereas the articles produced after two years of harsh austerity measures in 2013 (Corpus B) would have more negative metaphors. Our data was analyzed both quantitatively and qualitatively. Quantitatively, we gathered a total of 1,151 metaphorical expressions associated with the 8 target lexemes selected: 481 metaphorical expressions in 2011 Corpus A and 670 metaphorical expressions in 2013 Corpus B. The quantitative analysis includes the application of statistical techniques to test if the relationship between the time of the texts and the use of the different metaphors is significant and therefore if the differences between 2011 and 2013 are statistically significant. For the qualitative analysis, we followed the political metaphors classifications as proposed by Lakoff (1996, 2004), Charteris-Black (2005) and, particularly, Moreno Lara (2008). Specifically, every metaphorical expression from the total of 1,151 metaphorical expressions found in the corpus was assigned to one of three categories of conceptual metaphors: (i) the great chain of being, as interpreted by Lovejoy (1936) and Lakoff & Turner (1989); (ii) image schemas, as theorized by Johnson (1987); and (iii) actions are events. Each of these generic-level conceptual metaphors is instantiated in various more specific conceptual metaphors. These generic metaphors and their instantiations are described in the next section. In order to overcome some problems encountered in assigning the metaphorical expressions found in the corpus to one of these three categories of generic-­level conceptual metaphors, see the last paragraph of Section 3.3. Before proceeding, mention should be made of the limitations of our corpus data and corpus analysis. First, we collected press data from a single newspaper. The Público is one of the five main daily general newspapers in Portugal. Founded in 1990, it is the second most recent daily paper. Unlike newspapers written in other countries, such as neighboring Spain, the editorial position of most daily papers in Portugal is not particularly marked ideologically. In general terms, we might say that the Público leans more to the left than to the right. However, it is not easy to ideologically classify the other four general newspapers, which to some extent attenuates the limitations of our corpus. A second limitation arises from the fact that we have not done a contextual analysis, or, more precisely, a co-textual analysis of the metaphoric expressions found in the corpus, i.e. the part of the text in which they occur (headline, lead paragraph, body of text), the genre of journalistic text, etc. This detailed analysis will be left for a subsequent study.

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Table 1.  Lexemes, hits and metaphors in both corpora Lexemes austeridade corte dívida Estado orçamento empobrecimento poupança Troika Total (%)

Corpus A (2011)

Corpus B (2013)

Hits

Met.

Hits

Met.

 68 116  96  94  64  11  29 195 673

 44  82  77  76  43   3  25 131 481 (71.5)

 244  285  124  145  107   37   27  203 1172

134 135  72 111  76  33   7 102 670 (57.2)

3. The conceptual metaphors of austerity policies Table 1 presents the number of hits found for each target lexeme and its derivatives in each corpus, and how many of these hits constitute a metaphorical expression. Corpus B (2013) has a greater number of metaphorical expressions than Corpus A (2011) – 670 in Corpus B vs. 481 in Corpus A –, but the relative frequency is lower in Corpus B than Corpus A – 57.2% in Corpus B vs. 71.5% in Corpus A. This reduction in Corpus B (2013) results mainly from the significant increase of the lexemes austeridade and corte with time. The 2013 editions use these terms more often in both the body of articles and in the titles of articles and sections. 3.1

Metaphors based on the great chain of being

The first type of metaphors analyzed is based on what Lovejoy (1936) (from a history of ideas perspective) and Lakoff & Turner (1989: 170) (from the perspective of metaphorical cognitive models) called the great chain of being. This is a cultural cognitive model that is very influential in Western thought for our understanding of the universe and of human beings. The major premise of The Great Chain of Being is that everything in the universe has its place in a divinely planned hierarchical order, which is pictured as a vertical chain where different entities occupy their corresponding position on the basis of their properties and behavior. The entities at the top are more complex and more highly valued than those that rank lower down. Furthermore, higher forms of existence dominate lower forms of existence. At the bottom stand natural physical things. Higher up are complex objects characterized by their structural and functional properties and behavior.



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

After that come plants, with their biological functions and attributes and animals, which are defined by their instinctual characteristics and behavior; then, human beings, who possess higher order attributes and behavior, and, finally, celestial creatures, with their supernatural traits and behavior. Higher-level entities can be conceptualized through the attributes and behavior of lower-level entities and vice-versa. Our corpus displays austerity-related metaphors based on the attributes and behaviors of people and families, and on other source domains such as natural forces, supernatural forces or creatures, material objects and functional objects, as in examples (1)–(10). We found no metaphors associated with animals or plants. (1) Adopção do pacote de austeridade mostra “uma maturidade incrível” dos portugueses  (Público, 10.07.11) ‘Adoption of the austerity package shows “an incredible maturity” from the Portuguese’ (2) O drama é que, depois de dois anos de austeridade draconiana, que pôs o país a sofrer de uma maneira que não pensaríamos possível na Europa e em democracia (…)  (Público, 19.05.13) ‘The tragedy is that, after two years of draconian austerity, which put the country to suffer in a way that we could not think possible in Europe and in democracy’ (3) O Governo promete “um emagrecimento claro” do Estado (Público, 06.07.11) ‘The government promises “a clear slimming down” of the State’ (4) O Estado vai ficar como está, obeso, só que temporariamente não insuflado. Voltará a inchar na primeira oportunidade.  (Público, 06.05.13) ‘The State will stay as it is, obese, though it will be temporarily less bloated. It will swell again at the first opportunity’ (5) é tempo de emagrecer a despesa e de arrumar a casa para cumprir o memorando  (Público, 06.07.11) ‘it is time to slim down expenditure and to tidy up the house to fulfill the memorandum’ (6) Gerir um país é como gerir uma casa?  ‘Managing a country is like running a household?’

(Público, 05.05.13)

(7) Depois de ter sido o bom aluno europeu, Portugal terá de ser o bom arrependido europeu  (Público, 25.06.11) ‘After being the good student of Europe, Portugal will have to be the good contrite European’

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(8) Não há margem para mais austeridade, supressões e novos cortes e... se forem concretizados, o Governo é responsável pela agonia e morte lenta de uma extensa fatia do povo!  (Público, 01.05.13) ‘There is no room for further austerity, suppressions and new cuts and... if they are implemented, the Government is responsible for the suffering and slow death of an extended part of the population!’ (9) a derrapagem no défice, o “monstro”, que o novo Governo jura querer controlar.  (Público, 02.07.11) ‘deficit slippage, the “monster”, that the new government swears that it wants to control’ (10) não nos livramos desta praga [Troika] tão cedo  ‘We will not get rid off this plague [Troika] so soon’

(Público, 20.05.13)

Austerity policies are metonymically associated with human attributes and qualities, both positive ones (such as responsibility, discipline, honesty, sacrifice, rigor, commitment and honor) and negative (irresponsibility, laxity, obesity, cruelty, despotism, slavery, humiliation, evil, obsession, madness and blindness). Accepting and implementing austerity measures is to be responsible, disciplined, honorable, reliable, patriotic, courageous, a dedicated person with spirit of sacrifice, and a good student. To impose harsh austerity is to be severe, cruel, obsessive, authoritative and despotic. Thus, Portuguese citizens are conceptualized as reliable, honorable, stoic, exemplary people and good students, as well as oppressed, betrayed and robbed. These expressions of course result from metonymic mappings. But there is also metaphorical mapping here too, not in the sense that austerity is conceptualized as a person, because austerity is not agentive, but in the sense that austerity policies and measures are understood in terms of human attributes and behavior, psychological and moral attitudes, individual and national ideals. Economic austerity is therefore understood in terms of psychological and moral austerity. Thus, the very abstract idea of austerity policies is humanized or even divinized or demonized. Also related to the domain of human behavior, but metaphorically, is the conceptualization of institutional agents of austerity or its absence. Thus, the State is metaphorically conceptualized as an obese, lax, profligate and disorganized person that is living above its means and indebted, and which must subsequently discipline itself, slim down, and save money through austerity measures. The national economy is metaphorically conceptualized as a family economy, the State budget as a family budget, national debts as family debts, the indebted State as an indebted family. The Government and the Troika are metaphorically conceptualized as good or bad people, and Portugal, through its Government as a good



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

subservient student of the Troika, who has already passed seven examinations, and of the European Union. The remaining great chain of being metaphors conceptualize austerity as non-human entities, as in examples (8)–(10). Austerity is conceptualized as illness, just as the global financial crisis was conceptualized through the productive metaphor of illness (see Rojo López & Orts Llopis 2010 and Soares da Silva 2013a). Austerity is also conceptualized as an inevitable natural force, purifying or destructive, like atmospheric and geological forces and, particularly, fire. The concept of austerity is thus part of the natural catastrophe metaphor, which was very productive in the conceptualization of the financial crisis (see Soares da Silva 2013a). It is usually conceptualized metaphorically as a supernatural force or creature, specifically as a divine blessing, miracle, angel, goddess, magic, and (often in the 2013 texts) as fatality, plague, demon, monster, draconian force or another fearful mythological force. Some of these supernatural metaphors also serve to conceptualize the Troika, Government and European Union, and even the state debt. Other expressions in our corpus conceptualize austerity policies and measures as a remedy and a venom, as a physical object, and even as artifact, especially a weapon or bomb. The state and government are frequently conceptualized as a household, company or machine. Table 2 presents the frequencies of specific metaphors in our corpus based on the great chain of being, and specify the percentage of positive and negative uses of these metaphors. Three main results should be highlighted. First, as we Table 2.  Metaphors based on the great chain of being Metaphors

Corpus A (2011) +

Human behavior Human behavior – obese body Human behavior – good student Family – family budget Building, house Enterprise Illness Living being (animal or plant) Natural force Supernatural force Object Machine, functional object Total (%)

–

29 11 35  4  8  1 23  3  7  1 11  5  3  9  0  0  0  4  2  4  3 11  6  7 127 (26.4) 60 (12.5)

Corpus B (2013) +

–

16 11  1  5  0  9  1  0  0  0 11  1 55 (8.2)

47 18 13 35  3  7 18  0 11 24 18  5 199 (29.7)

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have been describing, the same specific patterns of great chain of being metaphors are repeated in the two periods. Secondly, metaphors based on the human behavior of persons or families represent the greatest part of the great chain of being metaphors in both corpora: 61% in Corpus A and 57.5% in Corpus B. If we add other metaphors related to human beings, such as metaphors of disease, household and enterprise, this percentage rises to 80.2% in Corpus A and 72.4% in Corpus B. Thirdly, and most importantly, there is a clear alteration in the positive and negative values of the great chain of being metaphors over time. Out of the 38.9% of great chain of being metaphors found in Corpus A (2011), 26.4% were used in a positive sense and 12.5% were negative. In Corpus B (2013) the inverse relation was found: 8.2% out of 37.9% were positive and 29.7% were negative. There is therefore a great increase of negative great chain of being metaphors from 2011 to 2013. 3.2

Metaphors based on image schemas

The second type of metaphor found in the corpus is based on so-called image schemas. This is another key concept in Cognitive Linguistics which, like the conceptual metaphor, also reveals the embodiment of thought and language, not only physical and physiological embodiment but also social and cultural embodiment. Image schemas are preconceptual, embodied and dynamic patterns of our movements in the space, manipulation of objects, and perceptual interactions (Johnson 1987; Peña Cervel 2003; Soares da Silva 2003; Hampe 2005; Oakley 2007). Metaphors based on image schemas, especially those of the path, container and force are very productive in political discourse (Chilton 2004; Moreno Lara 2008). Table 3 presents the frequencies of specific metaphors based on image schemas in our corpus. The two most frequent image schemas are path, whose basic structure is the source-path-goal schema, as in examples (11)–(13), and force, as in (14), with its specifications such as compulsion, restraint, blockage, balance. path and force image schemas are intimately interconnected, while the path schema is a basic pattern and the force schemas are dependent on it (Peña Cervel 2003). Austerity is conceptualized as a “long and painful path” necessary for Portugal to reach the “targets for the reduction of deficit and debt” agreed with the Troika and as a restraining force that obliges one to “stop and reduce the State debt”. More emotionally, austerity is conceptualized as a “one-way street” that has to be travelled in order to emerge from the crisis. Austerity is also conceptualized, especially in the most recent texts (Corpus B, 2013), as a trajectory that has to be “slowed, stopped, diverted” and “reversed”, as it has already “reached the limit” and even gone “beyond the targets” defined by the Troika; and as an “apocalyptic



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

Table 3.  Metaphors based on image schemas Metaphors Source-path-goal Front-back Up-down Link Force Spiral Container Total (%)

Corpus A (2011)

Corpus B (2013)

+

–

+

–

12 10  4  7 20  2  7 62 (12.9)

17 14  9  0 28  3 15 86 (17.9)

13  0  0  5 18  0 10 46 (6.9)

74 16 41  3 34  8 14 190 (28.4)

journey”, which has left millions of people unemployed and caused deep economic recession. Other force schema metaphors are manifested in expressions such as “the strong and terrible impact of austerity or of the Troika’s measures”, “burden of debt”, “new ‘constraints’ that the Troika’s program imposes”, “the Troika resists and forces the government”, “the Troika doesn’t yield”, “the government will insist that the Troika offer debt relief ”. (11) O antigo governador do Banco de Portugal não tem dúvidas de que há uma “longa e dolorosa estrada” de austeridade.  (Público, 05.07.11) ‘The former governor of the Portuguese Bank has no doubt that there is a “long and painful path” of austerity.’ (12) O caminho escolhido levou ao empobrecimento dos cidadãos e à destruição do Estado social.  (Público, 11.05.13) ‘The chosen path leads to the impoverishment of citizens and to the destruction of the Welfare State.’ (13) O Governo, com Gaspar ao leme, continua a sua caminhada apocalíptica, indi­ ferente ao consenso crescente sobre os malefícios da austeridade e a incom­ petência da governação.  (Público, 21.05.13) ‘The government, with Gaspar at the helm, continues its apocalyptic journey, remaining indifferent to the growing consensus about the evils of austerity and to governing incompetence.’ (14) A Troika não cede e as ameaças não se cumprem. Entretanto, o povo geme e tudo indica que não aguenta. (Público, 11.05.13) ‘The Troika does not cede and the threats do not apply. In the meantime, the people wail and everything shows they can’t take it anymore.’ (15) O Governo tem de recuar nestas medidas de austeridade. (Público, 02.05.13) ‘The government has to go back on these austerity measures.’

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(16) A torneira do crédito está a fechar. ‘The tap of credit is closing.’

(Público, 08.07.11)

(17) Não há margem para mais austeridade  ‘There is no room for more austerity’

(Público, 01.05.13)

Other austerity-related metaphorical expressions are based on subsidiaries of the path schema, such as verticality and front-back relations. These subsidiary schemas include (i) the front-back schema, as example (15) and “government puts forward new measures”, “does a U-turn”, “the backing down of the government and the Troika” and “recessive austerity”; (ii) the up-down schema, as “debt has grown more than expected” and “austerity sinks the economy”; (iii) the spiral schema, as “spiral of debt”; (iv) the link schema, as “conciliate budget consolidation with economic growth”; and (v) the container schema, which is dependent on spatial boundedness schema, as in examples (16)–(17) and “austerity packages” or “budget contention”. Out of the 30.8% of image schema metaphors found in Corpus A, 12.9% were used in a positive sense, while 17.9% were negative. More negative uses were found in Corpus B with 28.4% in total, as opposed to 6.9% positive uses. Once again, there is a strong increase in the negative uses of austerity-related metaphors from 2011 to 2013. 3.3

Metaphors based on actions are events

Our corpus shows a third type of austerity-related metaphor, namely metaphor based on the generic-level metaphor actions are events. This metaphor is included in the conceptual structure of the Event-Structure metaphor, in which actions, states, changes, causes, aims and tools are metaphorically conceptualized as space, movement and force (Lakoff & Turner 1989; Lakoff 1993; Lakoff & Johnson 1999: 170–234). actions are events metaphors allow us to conceptualize the implementation of austerity policies and related activities as certain events. The expressions in our corpus that instanced this metaphor referred to six types of events, namely war, competitive game, show business, moral/immoral activity, mission and death. Sometimes, the implementation of austerity policies or associated activity is metaphorically conceptualized in terms of other actions, thereby realizing a generic-level metaphor actions are actions. This is what happens when the practice of austerity is conceptualized as household/enterprise management and as medical practice, particularly painful therapy or treatment. These actions are events/actions metaphors, systematized in Table 4, share some conceptual features, such as conflict, aggressiveness, competitiveness, sacrifice and suffering capacity, and (im)morality, as shown in examples (18)–(28).



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

Table 4.  Metaphors based on the metaphor actions are events Metaphors War Competition game Show business Household management Enterprise management Mission Therapy Total (%)

Corpus A (2011)

Corpus B (2013)

+

–

+

–

 6  0  3  6 12 64 13 104 (21.6)

17  3  3  0  5 10  4 42 (8.7)

 5  6  3  0 10  0  0 24 (3.6)

48  5 16  4 12 35 36 156 (23.3)

(18) O presidente da Caixa Geral de Depósitos disse ontem esperar que o próximo executivo formado por PSD e CDS-PP seja “um governo de guerra”, para fazer cumprir o acordo que foi estabelecido com a Troika.  (Público, 15.06.11) ‘The president of the Portuguese National Bank said yesterday that he expected the next government formed by the PSD and CDS-PP to be a “war government”, to fulfill the agreement established with the Troika.’ (19) no momento em que a Troika ataca direitos conquistados, é muito importante que todos os jovens e todos os cidadãos conheçam e lutem por estes direitos (Público, 17.05.13) ‘the moment the Troika attacks rights that have been won, it is very important that all young people and all citizens know this and fight for these rights’ (20) Portugal sabe por experiência própria que a embriaguez da dívida se limita a encenar um falso e curto bem-estar até ao dia em que chega a factura e o colapso.  (Público, 22.06.11) ‘Portugal knows from its own experience that the inebriation of debt merely simulates a false sense of well-being in the short term until the day the bill arrives and the collapse comes.’ (21) Se não se aceitar que a crise exige sacrifícios, não haverá condições para se cumprir o acordo com a Troika (Público, 15.06.11) ‘If we do not accept that crisis demands sacrifice, there will be no conditions to fulfill the agreement with the Troika’ (22) o PS tem que participar na definição das medidas de “salvação nacional”, já que é necessário “novos cortes” que permitam “compensar o desvio orçamental”. É esta a altura de o PS contribuir para “salvar o país” (Público, 05.07.11) ‘the Socialist Party has to participate in the definition of measures for “national salvation”, since “new cuts” in order to “compensate for the budgetary deviation”. This is the time for the Socialist Party to contribute to “save the country”’

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(23) O “credo da austeridade” começou a recuar na Europa.  (Público, 12.05.13) ‘The “austerity creed” has started to withdraw in Europe.’ (24) Num modelo de ajustamento que exige a expiação calvinista do sacrifício como redenção de supostos pecados, os que sofrem a perda de rendimentos são condenados a empobrecer  (Público, 12.05.13) ‘Within an adjustment model that demands the Calvinist expiation of sacrifice as the redemption for supposed sins, those who suffer a wage loss are condemned to impoverishment’ (25) Empobrecimento e miséria impostos por políticas erradas é crime, segundo a doutrina social da Igreja  (Público, 28.04.13) ‘Impoverishment and misery imposed by wrong policies is crime, according to the social doctrine of Church’ (26) Há duas mentiras que têm sido repetidas na sociedade portuguesa: que os portugueses andaram a gastar acima das suas possibilidades e que não há alternativa à austeridade para expiarem os pecados (que não cometeram) (Público, 03.05.13) ‘There are two lies that have been repeated in Portuguese society: that the Portuguese have been spending above their means and that there is no alternative to austerity in order to atone for their sins (which they did not commit)’ (27) Este percurso de cura dolorosa e rápida desejado pela Troika para Portugal e em que o Banco de Portugal acredita é a única solução, defende o relatório ontem publicado (Público, 12.07.11) ‘This quick and painful cure demanded by the Troika for Portugal, and which the Portuguese Bank believes in, is the only solution, according to the report published yesterday’ (28) Esta ditadura do Ministério das Finanças da austeridade pela austeridade está a matar a economia e a provocar mais falências e mais desemprego (Público, 29.04.2013) ‘This dictatorship of austerity for austerity’s sake imposed by the Ministry of Finance is killing the economy and provokes more bankruptcy and more unemployment’

Metaphors of war, such as those in (18)–(19), are manifested in other expressions such as “combating austerity”, “anti-austerity crusade”, “the Free Portugal from Austerity movement”, “austerity programs of an unparalleled violence”, “Portugal’s capitulation before the Troika”. The household/enterprise management metaphor is manifested in the 2011 texts in expressions such as “it’s time to put their house in order”, while in the 2013 texts, there are interrogative uses with negative connotations, typically found in headlines such as “Is running a country like running a household?”, “Should the state be managed like a company?”. In the 2013



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

texts, there are also frequent metaphors of painful treatment and therapy (“the harsh austerity cure imposed by the Troika”, “the Troika’s bloodletting”, “osteoporosis of the welfare state, subject to imminent fracture but invisible to the naked eye”), as well as the austerity is death metaphor (“[austerity causes] agony and slow death in an extensive slice of the population”, “kill the patient with the cure”), associated with the popular saying some remedies harm more than they heal. Within the cluster of actions are events/actions metaphors, moral metaphors stand out. In Corpus A (2011), 50.7% of event metaphors are instances of the specific metaphor of mission: the implementation of austerity is a national imperative, a moral obligation, the only solution to save the country; the government and the Troika have the difficult and glorious mission to implement the severe adjustments program, cuts and tax hikes; and the Portuguese people have the duty to make necessary and inevitable sacrifices. There are also frequent occurrences of sacrifice metaphors with positive connotations. However, in Corpus B (2013) 19.4% of event metaphors are metaphors of immorality, connoting political and economic evil, useless suffering, blind austerity, destruction and misery or expressions such as “the end of the dogma of austerity orthodoxy”. When we examine the positive and negative uses of event metaphors, we again find a marked increase in negative metaphors from 2011 to 2013: from 8.7% of negative metaphors and 21.6% of positive metaphors in Corpus A, we pass to 23.3% of negative metaphors and only 3.6% of positive metaphors in Corpus B. Table 5 synthesizes the results obtained, showing the total number and relative frequency of the three generic-level metaphors of austerity used in each subcorpus. Graph 1 compares the total number of positive and negative metaphors of the three generic-level metaphors which were found in Corpus A and Corpus B. The main results are: (i) a predominance of being metaphors in both subcorpora (38.9% in Corpus A and 37.9% in Corpus B); and (ii) a clear increase in negative metaphors over time. Let us examine the results of Table 5 and Graph 1 from a statistical perspective. Taking the total number of positive and negative metaphors of austerity Table 5.  The three types of metaphors in both corpora Metaphors

Corpus A (2011) +

Metaphors based on the great chain of being Metaphors based on image schemas Metaphors based on the metaphor actions are events

Corpus B (2013)

–

+

–

127 26.4% 60 12.5%

55

8.2% 199 29.7%

 62 12.9% 86 17.9% 104 21.6% 42  8.7%

46 24

6.9% 190 28.4% 3.6% 156 23.3%

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200

A+ A– B+ B–

150 100 50 0

Metaphors based on the great chain of being

Metaphors based on image schemas

Metaphors based on the metaphor actions are events

Graph 1.  Different types of metaphors used in both corpora Table 6.  Total number of positive and negative metaphors Total metaphors Positive Negative

Corpus A 293 188

60.9% 39.1%

Corpus B 125 545

18.7% 81.3%

X2 = 214.37, df = 1, p < .0001, Cramer’s V = 0.43.

found in both corpora (Table 6), the chi-square test shows that the differences between positive and negative metaphors in Corpus A (2011) and Corpus B (2013) are statistically highly significant (p < .0001). Cramer’s V measure indicates that there is indeed quite a strong association between the time of the journalistic texts and the positive or negative uses of austerity metaphors (Cramer’s V = 0.43). Comparing the three types of austerity metaphor (Tables 7–9), we can see that the relationship between the time of the texts and the positive or negative value of the metaphors is always highly significant statistically, but the association between these two variables is stronger in the case of metaphors based on actions are events/actions (Cramer’s V = 0.59) and metaphors based on the great chain of being (Cramer’s V = 0.46) than those based on image schemas (Cramer’s V  =  0.24). This weaker association between the variable time and the variable positive/negative value in the image schema metaphors is due to the deviation of these metaphors in Corpus A (2011), where there were more negative image schema metaphors (58.1%) than positive (41.9%). Before we conclude this section, two remarks are required about Table 5 and Tables 2–4. Firstly, the boundaries between the great chain of being and actions are events/actions types of metaphor are not clear cut. The criteria for



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

Table 7.  Total number of positive and negative metaphors based on the great chain of being being metaphors Positive Negative

Corpus A 127  60

67.9% 32.1%

Corpus B  55 199

21.7% 78.3%

X2 = 93.2, df = 1, p = < .0001, Cramer’s V = 0.46.

Table 8.  Total number of positive and negative metaphors based on image schemas IS metaphors Positive Negative

Corpus A 62 86

41.9% 58.1%

Corpus B  46 190

19.5% 80.5%

X2 = 21.48, df = 1, p = < .0001, Cramer’s V = 0.24.

Table 9.  Total number of positive and negative metaphors based on actions are events/actions events metaphors Positive Negative

Corpus A 104  42

71.2% 28.8%

Corpus B  24 156

13.3% 86.7%

X2 = 110.91, df = 1, p = < .0001, Cramer’s V = 0.59.

distinguishing them lies in the nominal or relational nature of the target domain of metaphorical conceptualization: if the target conceptual unity is a ‘thing’ (entity), the metaphorical expression belongs to the great chain of being type of metaphor; if the target conceptual unity is a ‘process’ (situation), the metaphorical expression belongs to the actions are events/actions metaphor type. Secondly, the three types of austerity-related metaphors frequently overlap and in different ways. For example, combinations of path metaphors with mission and sacrifice metaphors are common. In these cases as in others, the occurrence or not of expressions from the source domain was the criterion used for the inclusion or otherwise of the metaphorical expression in question in the respective type of austerity-related metaphors.

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4. The persuasive and manipulative functions of the metaphors of austerity: Morality and ideology The corpus-based metaphors of austerity described above are grounded in socio-­ culturally situated bodily experiences and serve important functions in political and economic discourse. Let us look at these dimensions of motivations and functions of metaphors of austerity policies and how the experiential motivations enable and make effective the discursive functions. 4.1

Embodiment and emotion

The austerity metaphors link up with the way human beings experience reality, both physiologically and socio-culturally. These metaphors are based on bodily experiences of movement, force, gravity, containment, diet, pain, disease, suffering and death; on social experiences such as household or enterprise management, conflict/war, sporting competition, clinical cure and mission; and on cultural traditions such as the consumer/austerity society, culture of sacrifice and expiation, labor relations, welfare state, social rights and ethical and moral standards. Interestingly, aspects of Portuguese culture are present in these metaphors, such as the Portuguese tendency for passivity, pessimism and self-blame, which has led us to accept the harsh austerity measures with resignation in the belief that “there is no alternative”. All these human experiences, including bodily experiences, are shaped by the social and cultural context. This means that the embodied metaphors of austerity are necessarily located in the physical, social, cultural and historical environment in which the bodily experiences and other human experiences operate. The sociocultural embodiment of austerity-related metaphors turns them into cognitive models with important discourse functions. These socially-embodied metaphors are used deliberately for persuasive and manipulative purposes. One of the persuasion and manipulation strategies used involves the classical notion of pathos, i.e. the ability of the speaker to arouse emotions in their audience. The metaphors perform this emotive function effectively, arousing feelings of which we are rarely fully conscious. Thus, the austerity measures cause fear and panic in public opinion – fear of national bankruptcy, fiscal cliff, collapse of the state, uncertainty about the future, job losses, i.e. a social fear or liquid fear in Bauman’s (2006) sense, induced through forecasts of catastrophic scenarios. The very fear legitimizes the austerity narrative and de-legitimizes alternative readings of the austerity policies.



4.2

The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse

Ideology

Crucially, the austerity measures found in this corpus perform an important ideological function which is almost always implicit and disguised. An ideology is an implicit or explicit set of ideas and beliefs adhered to by a group of people that provides a mental representation of the world or “world view” and serves to bring individuals together for the purpose of some form of social action. It combines rhetorical means of persuasion, namely right thinking (logos), the right intentions (ethos), sounding right (pathos) and telling the right story, as is required if a group is to be united for social purposes (Charteris-Black 2011: 22). As ideology is a “modality of power” that contributes to establishing, maintaining and changing “social relations of power, domination and exploitation” (Fairclough 2003: 9), it ends up having inevitably manipulative purposes. In persuasion, the interlocutors are free to believe, whereas in manipulation they are victims (van Dijk 2006). Another type of explanatory story that shares with ideology the persuasive and manipulative purposes is myth. It engages the hearer by providing stories that express aspects of the unconscious and are often unconsciously linked to emotions such as fear, sadness and happiness (Charteris-Black 2011: 22). In political and economic contexts, metaphor is a powerful persuasive and manipulative strategy that contributes to the formation of a covert ideology through myth. The embodied and unconscious nature of conceptual metaphor, and the implicit ideology that it transports, means that public opinion does not even notice that it is being manipulated. The austerity-related metaphors analysed serve the ideological agenda of austerity offered by the Troika as the only solution to be taken by the Portuguese government to save the country. More specifically, these metaphors aim to convince the Portuguese public with emotional (social fear) and moral (see below) arguments (i) not to “live above its means”, and (ii) to accept the drastic cuts designed to addressing the social expenses of the State, wage reductions, fiscal sacrifices and poverty, on the grounds that “there is no alternative” that would prevent bankruptcy, state collapse, and a break-up of the euro. This ideological power of austerity metaphors is fed by economic and political myths, the so-called “myths of austerity” (Krugman 2010, 2011), “European austerity myths” or myths about the “Age of Austerity”. These include the notions that governments caused the crisis through runaway public spending, that budget deficits are always a problem, or that deep cutbacks to expensive social programs are the only way to fix the deficit, calm the markets and revitalize the economy. Alternatively, they may embody the “expansionary fiscal adjustment or consolidation” hypothesis, suggesting that austerity measures help economies to revert to their long-term growth (for just like individual households and companies, governments should live within their

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means); or they may suggest that austerity is justifiable because there are no other alternatives. Amongst the austerity-related metaphors found in the corpus, there are three specific metaphors which are more ideological and more persuasive and manipulative in their justification and implementation of the harsh austerity measures, though they are relatively uncommon in both subcorpora. They are: 1. the state is an obese body (8.1% in Corpus A and 4.3% in Corpus B) 2. the national budget is the family budget / the national debt is the family debt / economy is household management (6.7% in Corpus A and 6.6% in Corpus B) 3. portugal is a good student (1.9% in Corpus A and 2.1% in Corpus B) The diet and slimming metaphor conveys the idea that Portuguese people “have been living above their means” and that they “are in debt” because they are “irresponsible” and aspire to a consumerist lifestyle, expressed by patterns once restricted to the rich, such as changing car often and taking their holidays in exotic destinations. It also conveys the idea of a welfare state that has turned into a spendthrift/wastrel state, spending more than it can and has to. These ideas help spread the notion that the severe economic crisis in which we live is our responsibility, and therefore the time has come for everyone – state and citizens alike – to pay the bill. The metaphor of diet and slimming serves to legitimize the drastic cuts addressing the social expenses of the state, billions of euros to be paid back, wage reductions and tax increases. In short, profound cuts to public expenditure (“slimming down the State”) are considered to be the obvious cure. The second metaphor addresses family debt control: the national economy needs to tighten its budget and reduce expenses, just as if it were an indebted family; national and European households need to be organized. The family metaphor equates the debt problems of a national economy with the debt problems of an individual family. Specifically, it equates the management of the state budget with family budget management. In both cases, we cannot spend more than what we have, because then we will have an increasing debt. In both cases, expenses have to be cut in times of crisis. Just as families and companies need to live within their means to avoid the scourge of financial condemnation, so too must governments be constrained in the same way as the rest of us. A former Finance minister and popular economics commentator (Medina Carreira) said about the Portuguese economy of the last 20 years that “any housewife would have done better than the governments we have had”. Paul Krugman (Nobel prize in Economics) calls the economy is household metaphor the “bad metaphor”, because the national budget is not like a family budget, nor is economics household management

The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse 101



(Krugman 2010, 2011). Furthermore, household metaphors make us think of the causes and solutions of economic failure in terms of household behavior. For these and other reasons, political economist Mark Blyth says that austerity is a “very dangerous idea” (Blyth 2013). The indebted family metaphor is used to justify budget control policies and all types of drastic cuts in public expenditure, from the reduction in the number of civil servants to the large-scale dismantling of public services and social welfare. The metaphor of the good student conveys the notion that Portugal must fulfill the Troika’s goals, meet its budgetary goals, differentiate itself from Greece, honor its commitments and set an example with austerity measures. The Portuguese government takes pride in its external image as the good pupil of the Troika and of Europe: positive Troika assessments, fulfillment of budget targets, going “further than the Troika”, i.e. beyond the measures agreed with the Troika and being known as “the Troika’s best student” that is nothing like the “worse student” (Greece). Even when it is ironically used, as in “the burdens of being the Troika’s good boy”, the good student metaphor legitimizes the fulfillment of austerity measures, budget goals, the Troika’s recommendations and EU austerity policies. In truth, the metaphor of the good student was sold by the government as the need to religiously follow a prescription that would bring economic recovery to the country in the short term. For the Troika and for European politics, it serves to demonstrate that the strategy of austerity not only works but is recommended and should be intensified. The metaphor of the good student serves the Portuguese government today, in a scenario of growing uncertainty, as a negotiating tool with which to transmit the idea that the negotiating posture it has been following is worthwhile. 4.3

Morality

The persuasive and manipulative effectiveness of austerity-related metaphors lies not only in the physical and social embodiment that grounds them but also in their moral charge. Most of the metaphors found in the corpus evoke human behavior, which is always, by nature, morally oriented. 80.2% of the chain of being metaphors in Corpus A and 72.4% of the same metaphors in Corpus B and all the actions are events metaphors have to do with human behavior. The image schema metaphors also have moral connotations. This is not surprising, as economics and politics are inherently connected to ethics. Interestingly, the austerity-related metaphors involve the same metaphorical moral models as the opposite family-based moral models that Lakoff (1996, 2004) identified in

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American politics, namely the strict father morality of conservatives and the nurturing parent morality of progressives or liberals. Economic austerity is the moral discipline that will punish the moral failures of individuals and society, such as “living beyond one’s means”, consumerist lifestyle, indebted family, joblessness, “government waste”, “dependency culture”, “spiraling welfare spending”, “benefit cheats”, “benefit scroungers”. Austerity is not a temporary economic measure; it is a permanent moral imperative. It is necessary punishment, a form of cleansing (the “debt sinners” or “fiscal sinners” through the debt is sin metaphor), inevitable sacrifice, pain and expiation, individual and national moral imperative and moral mission to force Portugal to “not live above its financial means”; and it is also purifying, redemption, reward, prosperity, individual and national salvation, and good morality. It is the conservative morality, the morality of self-discipline and self-reliance, the morality of punishment and reward, that Lakoff (1996, 2004) characterized in terms of the metaphoric model of the strict father. In a family with a strict father, the father knows right from wrong, sets the rules, is supposed to protect and support the family, and disciplines the children through punishment not to break his rules. Just as the strict father’s authority must be preserved in the family, so conservative moral principles must be preserved in political life. This conservative morality gives austerity policies a positive moral connotation. As our corpus analysis has shown, the austerity-­ related metaphors with this positive sense are more frequent in articles written during the first months of implementation of harsh austerity measures and simultaneously during the “state of grace” of the new government (see Corpus A, 2011). However, economic austerity impedes social responsibility, people’s aspirations for a fulfilled and satisfying life, and goes against democracy and the welfare state. Crucially, austerity is not a real economic policy but rather the politics of crime and punishment, sin and expiation. Therefore, economic austerity is seen as immoral. As Lakoff (1996, 2004) points out, responsible nurturing parents teach children empathy and both personal and social responsibility – which requires a positive, non-punitive discipline – and prepare children for a fulfilled and satisfying life. This progressive morality denounces the immorality of economic austerity. The negative sense of austerity-related metaphors has become more frequent in recent months, which has proved the failure of austerity measures, as we could confirm in our corpus analysis (see Corpus B, 2013). Metaphors emphasizing the destructive and immoral features of austerity are today at the centre of the discourse produced by the anti-austerity movement.



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse 103

5. Conclusions Certain conclusions can be drawn from this corpus-based analysis of metaphor in the discourse of the Portuguese press regarding austerity policies. Firstly, metaphor is a powerful discourse strategy used to conceptually frame economic, political and social austerity issues and serve an ideological, emotional and moral agenda. This means, at a more general level, that metaphor can only emerge in real contexts of use, communicative situations and genuine sociocultural interactions, which means that a discourse-based socio-cognitive approach is required to deal with it. A second inevitable consequence is that the cognitive and discourse power of metaphor has to be empirically proved by means of corpus-based (or experimental) evidence. Secondly, the metaphorical expressions of austerity found in the corpus are related to three generic conceptual metaphors, namely metaphors based on the great chain of being, metaphors based on image schemas, and metaphors based on the metaphor actions are events or actions are actions. Specifically, austerity-related metaphors are typically related to human behavior (responsibility/ irresponsibility, discipline, sacrifice, obesity, cruelty, despotism, honor, and good student), family budget and debts, path and force image schemas, and events and actions such as war, games, household management, therapy, and mission. Some of these generic and specific metaphors are more frequent than others; for example, the great chain of being type of metaphor is more common than the other two generic-level metaphors, while metaphors of human behavior, path, force, war and mission are more common than other specific metaphors. Some of the metaphors found in the corpus (such as those evoking obesity/diet, indebted family, good student, and sacrifice) also seem to play a more ideological, persuasive and manipulative role than the others. Thirdly, there is a strong increase in the negative sense of these metaphors in the Portuguese press between 2011, when austerity measures were first implemented, and 2013, when protests against these policies intensified. This occurred in two related ways. On the one hand, the negative uses of the three clusters of austerity-related metaphors (i.e. the great chain of being metaphors, image schema metaphors and actions are events/actions metaphors) increased dramatically over time; indeed, in many cases, specific metaphors actually shifted from a positive connotation of austerity to a negative one. On the other, certain metaphors that are typically positive in Portuguese (and at least some other European and Western sociocultural contexts), such as moral discipline, sacrifice, diet for an obese body, good student and mission are more frequent in the first time period, thereby presenting austerity as a morally good thing, while certain

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typically negative metaphors (such as cruelty, despotism, illness, monster, painful path, heavy burden, war, painful therapy and death), which present austerity as something bad, are more frequent in the second time period. Our corpus-based quantitative study showed that this relationship between the two different times in history and the positive/negative uses of austerity-related metaphors is statistically highly significant. Fourthly, the corpus-based analysis reveals the persuasive and manipulative force of generic and specific metaphors used in the implementation and justification of harsh austerity policies, especially metaphors of obesity/diet, indebted family, good student, and sacrifice. These socially-embodied metaphors are grounded in moral cultural models and serve the ideological agenda of austerity. They aim to convince Portuguese society by means of emotional and moral arguments not to “live above its means”, and to accept the drastic cuts addressing the social expenses of the State, wage reductions, fiscal sacrifice and poverty. Economic austerity is thus conceptualized as moral discipline, a permanent moral imperative and necessary punishment. This conservative morality model, which gives austerity a positive moral connotation, is particularly prevalent in the 2011 corpus. Protests against austerity, on the other hand, which subscribe to a progressive morality model and explore the negative and immoral features of these metaphors, are more frequent in the 2013 corpus. Finally, the corpus-based and discourse-based socio-cognitive analysis of metaphor that takes metaphor target domains as a starting-point provides empirical evidence of the existence of austerity metaphors and their persuasive and manipulative effects for ideological, emotional and moral purposes. On the level of metaphor (and metonymy) studies in general, the corpus-based and discourse-based socio-cognitive approach to conceptual metaphor (and metonymy) have at least three advantages over the decontextualized and universalist perspective of “first-generation” cognitive linguistics. First, it is fruitful and offers more realistic and falsifiable hypotheses and results for each of the two basic tasks involved in metaphor analysis, namely identifying the metaphors in the corpus and interpreting their various effective functions in discourse. The different austerity-related metaphors were sought, identified and interpreted in their actual contexts of use in real discourse. Second, the new empirical and socio-cognitive approach produces a shift (or perhaps an expansion) in our understanding of conceptual metaphor from a physically and physiologically embodied, decontextualized or partially contextualized (in individual cognition) and universalist view to a socio-culturally embodied, fully contextualized (in collective cognition) and variational perspective. Metaphor is not just a creative thought-structuring device, but is also socially, culturally and historically situated, and activity-driven, emerging in real discursive social interaction to serve social construction and



The power of metaphor in ‘austerity’ discourse 105

transformation purposes. Austerity metaphors in Portugal are socially and culturally embodied (i.e. grounded in cultural, ideological and moral values) and also historically embodied, in that they change from one time period (2011) to the other (2013), adapting to the respective socio-historical and sociocultural needs and circumstances of the country. They are interactive-cognitive strategies designed to persuade and manipulate Portuguese people in specific socio-­ economic and socio-political contexts. Finally, as we have attempted to show with this study of austerity metaphors in Portugal, metaphor sheds light on the way that discourse, cognition and society intertwine, emphasizing the fundamental role of situatedness in discourse and cognition. Thus, it is a crucial theoretical concept for a socio-cognitive, activity-driven approach to discourse and mind.

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Part II

Discourse strategies in multimodal communication

The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse A digital story as a case study Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

Technical University of Madrid / Universidad Autónoma of Madrid

This chapter’s main goal is to shed light onto the most characteristic meaning making processes in digital storytelling by thoroughly analysing a single digital narrative from a functional-cognitive perspective. This mixed approach for a case study allows the analysts to unveil the macro and micro discourse strategies and the cognitive processes developed by both the narrator and the audience to produce and interpret the multiple meanings conveyed by the different modes in a digital story. We believe findings presented here can be of interest for discourse analysts, cognitivists and researchers working in multimodality. Keywords: digital story, discourse strategies, functional-cognitive approach, multimodality

1. Introduction By expanding on previous work on the multimodal characterization of digital stories (Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013; Porto Requejo & Alonso Belmonte 2014), this chapter’s main objective is to provide some insights into the most characteristic meaning making processes in digital storytelling.1 For this purpose, we have carried out a case study analysis of the main discourse strategies for the construction of multimodal meaning in To Every Child. To Every Child is a digital story about a young black woman, Sid Marie, who explains how she decided to become an educator in a public school after witnessing the injustice many youth of colour experience in the public school system.

1. This work has been funded by the Spanish Ministry of Science and Competitiveness: Research Project FFI2012-30790. doi 10.1075/pbns.262.05mol © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

112 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

As in most digital stories, Sid Marie’s narrative addresses a potentially universal audience via the Internet with the aim of inspiring educators to challenge the uneven power relations many youth of colour experience in the Boston public school system. With this purpose, speech, image, gestures and music are strategically interwoven in the narrative in such a way that a new integrated multimodal meaning is conveyed. Thus, we aim at exploring how diverse semiotic channels in To Every Child provide different kinds of information which are finally integrated to construct a global message that goes far beyond the mere addition of the textual, visual and acoustic modes. Indeed, Sid Marie, as every digital storyteller, faces different difficulties during the process of narrative creation, such as having to compress sometimes highly emotional events in a short time span and lacking any feedback from their listeners. To address these issues, she develops effective strategies of meaning construction to keep the multimodal narration maximally significant for the listener. Some of them contribute to the general understanding and structuring of the story whereas others work on a very local basis, enabling the integration of a piece of text and one or two images. Our aim in this chapter is also to describe and analyse these macro and micro level strategies. It is claimed here that the meaning making processes unveiled in this case study analysis are representative of those working in other digital narratives. For this purpose, we have explored the potentialities of the joint use of functional and cognitive oriented tools. Functional and cognitive approaches to language are very close in their aims and methods: They both stress the meaning making processes of discourse from a functional point of view, studying real cases and emphasizing the role of participants in the construction of meaning, rather than the formal aspects (syntax, visual grammar, etc.) which are subordinated to it. Multimodal functionally oriented analysis stresses the fact that human social meaning making rarely if ever deploys the resources of a single semiotic system (Bateman 2008, 2014; Jewitt 2009; Kress & van Leeuwen 2001; O’Halloran 2004). On the cognitive side, the Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration theory as applied to discourse and narratives (Fauconnier & Turner 2002; Oakley & Hougaard 2008; Porto & Romano 2010; Romano et al. 2013) allows the analysts to describe some of the cognitive processes developed by both the narrator and the audience to produce and interpret the multiple meanings provided by the text, images and sound in order to integrate them and so construct a global, complex narrative. In the following section, we first explain the rationale behind the mixed method approach applied in this study and the nature of the different analytical tools used. Next, we provide the readers with some basic facts about the story told in To Every Child and its basic narrative sequence. Then, we describe the main macro and micro level strategies of meaning construction observed in this digital



The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 113

story. Results will be interpreted in the light of the more recent research on digital storytelling. Finally, we draw some tentative conclusions and make suggestions for broadening this multimodal analysis of narratives. 2. A functional-cognitive approach to the study of meaning construction in digital storytelling Digital stories are brief, multimodal narratives by which people who are not professional in literature nor computer technologies attend a workshop and learn to create a short narrative, usually on very personal experiences and worries, combining a sequence of digital images and photos with their own recorded voice and some background music (although the latter is optional) and then publish them on the Internet. Most images are still – as it happens in To Every Child –, but there are also some advanced digital story makers that include short video clips in their work, with some zooming and travelling to the images. The genre was first developed at the Centre for Digital Storytelling (CDS) in California in the early 1990s and has since expanded all around the world. Current research on digital storytelling is largely theoretical and qualitative in scope and has mainly focused on the study of the role these personal narratives have in the construction of the self and cultural identity and on their analysis as a societal phenomenon with democratising potential (Burguess 2006; Lundby 2008; Lambert 2013). There are also studies which focus on their structure from a Post-L­abovian perspective (Porto Requejo & Alonso Belmonte 2014), their emergence as a new multimodal genre (Alexander & Levin 2008; Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013) and on an increasing number of practical applications, especially in advertising (Gleason 2012; Handler Miller 2014) and for pedagogical, educational purposes (McLellan 2007; Roland 2006; Rossiter & Garcia 2010; among others). Our aim in this chapter is to approach the meaning making processes existing in To Every Child with a combination of functional and cognitive analytical tools. On the one side, a multimodal functional perspective focuses on the interaction of the text, i.e. of linguistic elements, with other semiotic resources, mainly visual but also acoustic, and provides a detailed description of the relations that can be established between them in order to achieve the communicative goal of the text. To a great extent, this approach tends to make use of functionally oriented linguistic theories and adapt them for the analysis of visual texts (O’Halloran 2004, 2008; O’Halloran & Smith 2011; Kress 2010; among others). This is the case, for example, of Baldry’s and Thibault’s method (2006), rooted in Hallidayan semiotics, and designed to analyse the complexity of detail involved in dynamic audiovisual printed, web, and filmic texts. Other studies such as Bateman and

114 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

Wildfeuer (2014), Cohn (2013) or Tseng (2013) analyse the sequential role images have in cohesive patterns for narratives, comics and films respectively. To our knowledge, however, very few researchers address the study of multimodality in digital storytelling.2 On the other side, the cognitive perspective to the study of the story, namely Conceptual Integration Theory, provides an insight of the cognitive processes of meaning construction that enable blending the information provided by the different semiotic resources. Under this view, every iconic sign (textual, visual or others) is a mental space and the process of meaning construction is that of the building up of a network of interconnected, cross-mapped mental spaces. The common grounds of both frameworks are quite straightforward, as both of them examine the interaction of the semiotic components of the text and the way in which discourse participants identify them, find their commonalities and integrate them in order to make sense of the whole discourse event. Conceptual Integration, which is a far reaching theory, only recently has it been applied to narratives or multimodality (Dancygier 2008, 2012; Porto & Romano 2010; Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013). Consequently, in this work we will consider different levels of analysis in order to disclose how meaning is constructed at a micro-­level, i.e. at specific points in the narratives through the combination of particular elements in the story, and also at a more general, macro level that combines and integrates different strategies for the construction of the whole. In practical terms, this means that in the sequence of images that constitute a digital story, each of them accompanied by a piece of text and music, we have not only considered the meaning making strategies in every slide separately (micro-­ level), but also the way in which all the slides are interconnected to one another globally (macro-level). 2.1

Functionally oriented multimodal analysis

For the identification and analysis of meaning construction devices all through the story, we set off from the notion of mode (Kress & van Leeuwen 2001). A mode classifies a ‘channel’ of representation or communication: verbal, visual (static and moving images), acoustic, lay-out, etc. These different modes express the material and the cultural aspects available to speakers. In To Every Child, the modes of meaning used by Sid Marie are:

2. An exception to this is Tara La Rose (2012), for example, who applied Baldry and Thibault’s (2006) method to the study of a digital story.



The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 115

Verbal Representation: Sid Marie’s recorded speech and written messages on the screen. Visual-Spatial Representation: still images (view, vista, scene, perspective and salience, proximity, spacing, layout, interpersonal distance). Audio Representation: background music.

In the following pages, we analyse the potential of these modes for creating meaning in To Every Child and the way in which the interaction between different modes takes place. For this purpose, we make use of different functionally oriented tools of analysis. For example, for the analysis of the text-image interaction that jointly constructs experiential meaning, we have applied Unsworth and Cléirigh’s (2009) systemic functional oriented model. This model points at three types of intermodal identification which visualise the language and somehow augments the verbal information provided by the narrator: 1. Intensive identification: images which elaborate the (verbalised or unverbalised) qualities of the main participants and/or events in the story (shape, colour, texture); 2. Possession: pictures which visualise the (verbalised or unverbalised) parts of the main participants and/or events in the story; 3. Circumstantial: pictures which visualise (verbalised or unverbalised) geographical locations. To address the interaction between images and other modes, we draw on two notions proposed by Kress and van Leeuwen (2006: 201–204) in their grammar of visual design which add to textual meaning: salience and framing. Salience is determined on the basis of (a) visual cues – size, sharpness of focus, or amount of detail or texture shown, tonal contrast, colour contrast, placement in the visual field, perspective, and any cultural symbolism associated with the image – that attract the viewer’s attention; (b) and methods for foregrounding such as edited images bubbles on photographs, cartoons, etc. The viewers of this narrative are intuitively able to judge the importance of the various elements of a photo (i.e. size, style, colour, placement, edited images, etc.). The greater the weight of an element, the greater its salience. Framing points are the connection between text and images, indicating the semantic relationship between them. Frames can connect and disconnect different narrative parts. Therefore, we look for borders between elements, connective vectors, repetition of shapes, colours, etc. which provide textual coherence to the story.

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Finally, the proper understanding of this narrative also requires taking into account multimodal metaphors, those “whose target and source are rendered exclusively or predominantly in two different modes/modalities (…) and in many cases the verbal one is one of these” (Forceville & Urios-Aparisi 2009: 4), and metonymies, a conceptual phenomenon which is realized in both language and other communication modes, such as visual image or gesture (Forceville & Urios-­ Aparisi 2009; Kövecses 2002). Indeed, we consider here the role of representational or ideational gestures (McNeill 2005) visualised in the pictures and the multimodal metaphors. 2.2

The cognitive approach: The application of Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration Theory to digital storytelling

In order to explain how information from the three channels blend and produce a new, emergent global meaning that goes far beyond the mere addition of meanings, we draw on Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration Theory as applied to discourse (Fauconnier & Turner 2002; Oakley & Hougaard 2008).3 According to these cognitive oriented theories, as discourse unfolds, a rich array of mental spaces is set up. These are called input spaces and constitute partial assemblies that participants in discourse create for purposes of local understanding. Then, several elements in one input space are linked to those of another by cross-mapping. This way, all spaces are interconnected. In addition, participants in discourse activate a generic space, not provided by discourse, which contains pre-existing cognitive and cultural models shared by both speakers and listeners. The selection of which elements will be cross-mapped in each input space depends on this generic space. Finally, all those elements that had been cross-mapped are projected into an emergent blended space that constitutes the global meaning. When applied to multimodal discourse and particularly to digital stories (see Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013), every semiotic mode (textual, visual and acoustic) can be seen as a different input space, since their meanings are interpreted and processed in very different ways by our brains, which all interconnect and blend with each other through cross-mappings until the final global blended space or emergent narrative is constructed. Indeed, the whole narrative is an integration of three main input spaces (see Figure 1):

3. There are other interesting theories of mental models applied to narrative comprehension, for example, the event-indexing model. See Zacks & Tversky (2001); Zwaan (1999); Zwaan et al. (1995); Zwaan &. Radvansky (1998).

The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 117



– Input Space 1 is the text of the narrative itself, where the narrator explains why she decided to become an educator, how she entered the Boston Teach Project and her aims in doing so, that is, helping black children to get a better education. – Input Space 2 is the set of images that constitutes the visual-spatial mode. It contains mostly the photos of black people, the narrator herself at different stages in her life, her family, both her mates and her students at the Boston Teach Project. – Input Space 3 is conformed by the acoustic mode including the narrator’s voice and the background music, i.e. Imagine me, the gospel song. Finally, there is a generic space, common to narrator and audience which is activated by different words, images and sounds along the story, and which is the key that allows the cross-mappings between the input spaces. This generic space contains some common knowledge about the world, such as the social status of black people in the US, cultural models on the purposes of education, on children’s attitudes, etc…

EDUCATION SOCIAL STATUS OF THE AFRICAN AMERICANS

Sometimes life… […] …to move forward

INPUT SPACE 1 Verbal mode

[…]

INPUT SPACE 2 Visual-spatial mode

Educators can help to eliminate inequalities Sid Marie’s is an example that others should follow EMERGENT FINAL BLEND

Figure 1.  Conceptual Integration of the three modes

GENERIC SPACE

Gospel song (Imagine me)

INPUT SPACE 3 Acoustic mode

118 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

The process of integration among the different input spaces works at different levels throughout the development of the story. As already pointed out, the story is presented as a sequence of static images accompanied by the recorded voice of the narrator and background music. Thus, at the micro-level, every slide activates a new mental space and so a partial integration of textual, visual and acoustic meanings is carried out, i.e. several elements of the image shown in every slide are crossed-mapped with the concurrent words that accompany it and the background sounds or music. A second level of conceptual integration, the macro-­ level, takes place when we move forward to the next space, that is, when the next slide is presented and a new space is opened. This second level of integration establishes cross-mappings between the new slide and the previous ones, i.e. between the new meanings locally integrated for that specific slide and those already constructed from the beginning of the story. As a matter of fact, this is a highly complex process that involves the re-activation of previously opened spaces, e.g. by repeating images, or by showing similarities or contrasts in the situations presented through different textual or visual devices. Also, this macro-level of conceptual integration provides coherence to the whole story, making sense of it all in a global emergent meaning, for example by keeping the same tone and voice all through it, anchoring the meaning of the partial integrations into the general frame of a personal experience of the narrator, or by cross-mapping the models of hope and transformation activated by the background gospel song into the rest of the narrative, especially when the volume turns up towards the end of the story (for a whole account on the role of music in digital stories, see Porto Requejo 2016). Several devices, visual, audio and textual, act as space builders. Either a word, or an image, or even a change in the music, can all indicate that a new mental space must be created, activated or else abandoned. This way, they turn into guiding strategies that narrators use to help the listener navigate in the maze of mental spaces, decide which cross mappings must be made and finally construct the final, global meaning.4 3. The story: To Every Child To Every Child is a personal narrative which is used as a recruitment tool by TeachBoston to encourage young black people to become teachers in the Boston area. Sid Marie’s story may be regarded as a metaphor for subjective experience

4. Compare with the explicit model of guiding strategies in Baterman & Wildfeuer (2014).



The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 119

and abstract advancement in life. It belongs to the so-called “mixed narratorial/ actorial” mode of narration (Hühn, Schmid & Schönert 2009: 33) where the narrator’s acts of evaluation and mediation are combined with acts of perception and reflection about Boston’s public school system that indicates an actorial stance. As usual in this genre, it is a very short narrative (2′45″ for the story itself and 39″ for the final credits) organized around a sequence of 33 still colour pictures. The narrative can be downloaded from the following link: http://www.creativenarrations.net/node/78. The following sections constitute a more detailed description of the different modes or input spaces which interact in the story 4. Verbal Representation or Input Space 1 To Every Child is the narrative account of a young black woman, Sid Marie, who tells her audience how she decided to become a teacher. After a brief introduction in which she speaks of the black people’s constant suffering (from 0′11″ to 0′26″), she leads the audience through her journey of personal and cultural transformation, from her family background as a black girl to the moment in which she decides to become an educator to help disadvantaged kids like her cousins who do not even have a home (0′26″ to 0′54″). After that, Sid Marie’s narration places her in a new setting, at a school in the Boston area (0′59″ to 1′11″), where she talks about her achievements and starts telling about the learning problems that one of her Latino students, Roger, has at school and how she tries to help him (from 1′15″ to 2′26″). The narration finishes with a reflection about black student’s needs in public schools (2′26″ to 2′46″). As far as we see it, To Every Child follows the classical character-conflict-resolution model by which a personal problem, is presented and then solved. As in many other digital stories, there is only one single active speaker in the story, Sid Marie; The other characters in the story (e.g. Roger, co-workers and other participants in the Boston school programme) are represented participants (Kress & van Leuween 2001: 48), that is, they constitute the subject matter of Sid Marie’s communication but are only visualised in the narration. Told in first person singular, Sid Marie’s narration was previously written and read to her audience. The written mode on screen is scarcely used in To Every Child, except for the titles and introductory slides at the beginning (0′00″ to 0′11″), and the credits and acknowledgements at the end (2′46″ to 3′20″). There are also pictures with some text bubbles or edited to show some text on them (slides 12, 15, 16, 24).

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5. Visual-Spatial Representation or Input Space 2 Except for the introduction, in which Sid Marie speaks of the black people’s constant suffering, most images in this narrative are personal photographs – i.e. personal pictures of Sid Marie as a child and at the present time, family photos and some other images of student teachers and their pupils during their school placement –, which help the audience to visualise all the elements of the narration. In most personal pictures, Sid Marie appears at the very centre of the pictures, as the nucleus of information to which other elements (other people, objects, etc.) are ancillary. To Every Child shares this feature with other digital stories which contain personal images of the narrators themselves, as a child or at the present time, to highlight the emotional and cultural content of the digital story (Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013). Structuring the story through a sequence of pictures belonging to the narrators’ personal archive favors the use of naturalistic modality, a term used by Kress and van Leeuwen (2006: 161–166) to describe images which represent participants and objects in the real world. Most images are still, but as already mentioned, some edited photos with collages (slides 6, 13), or shapes (11, 13, 16) are also included in To Every Child to provide dramatic significance to the represented participants. Furthermore, the sequence of images selected by the narrator allows the analyst to divide this digital narration in two different spatial blocks: Sid Marie’s personal and family life at home and her school life in the Boston area. Both spaces are different but complimentary to each other as they form the private and public spheres of Sid Marie’s life. The boundary between these two spatial blocks is marked by the repetition of specific images (slides 6 and 13). In the personal section of the narrative, most pictures are close-ups of Sid Marie and her family members or are portrayed from their waists up, exhibiting what is called “personal distance” (Kress & van Leeuwen 2006: 125). The school territory, however, forms a continuous, homogenous space represented in a naturalistic way by photos of different classes and school offices. Most pictures of students exhibit the whole figure and perspective in these scenes shows the viewer as an outside observer. Interesting meanings are also provided by the gestures and body positions in photographs. There are many spontaneous gestures forming part of the narrative communicative apparatus. For instance, there are several instances of deictic gestures – e.g. Sid Marie pointing with her finger at relevant information in a book for a student (slides 26, 28) – which are used to indicate that Sid Marie and her students have a close relationship. There are also emblematic friendly gestures such as side hugs (slide 20) or protective caring gestures among teachers and students (slide 31) which are used to highlight this good atmosphere.



The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 121

6. Audio Representation or Input Space 3 Sid Marie’s voice starts to be heard at the very beginning of the story, before any personal image of her is displayed. The characteristics of her voice provide the audience unverbalised information about her gender (female), her origin (Boston) and her socioeconomic status (poor). Besides, the representation of Sid Marie’s individual voice establishes social relationships of nearness and involvement with her students and colleagues. This information integrates with the one provided by the background music in To Every Child. During the whole story, Sid Marie’s voice merges with a gospel song Imagine Me, by Kirk Franklin, a well-known interpreter in urban contemporary gospel.5 Gospel music has traditionally been one of the vehicles through which the ideals of Christianity have been spread to audiences and it is particularly associated with people of colour. Ideas of hope, transformation, overcoming, etc. are typically evoked by gospel songs (by its very definition, gospel means “good news”). Indeed, when the story reaches its end (slide 33 onwards), the audience can clearly hear the chorus of the song playing: Imagine me, being free, trusting you totally, finally I can imagine me, I admit it was hard to see you being in love with someone like me, finally I can imagine me. Imagine me.

In sum, the audio representation frames the story in an African/black social context in the US and evokes self-improvement and personal growth. 7. Strategies of meaning construction So far we have reviewed how each of the previous modes or input spaces creates meaning by their own in To Every Child. Now, we are going to describe the way in which the interaction between different modes takes place. For this purpose, we will distinguish here between macro level and micro level multimodal strategies of meaning construction. As already pointed out, micro level strategies of meaning construction work on a very local basis, enabling the integration of a piece of text and one or two images. The scope of micro level strategies is reduced to one or two slides, and the text and music that accompanies it for the time displayed (usually between 4 and 10 seconds). Examples of these strategies in To Every Child 5. The album was certified Gold in 2005 and Platinum in 2006 by the Recording Industry Association of America and made No. 1 on both the Billboard Top Christian and Top Gospel albums (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirk_Franklin).

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are for instance, the use of typographical resources for the expression of verbal messages, alone or in combination with the use of specific colours to enhance the visual material. The use of typography is particularly visible in the first two slides of the narration. The first one is a dedication which presents Sid Marie and the values she stands for: “To every child who struggles in life”. “Struggles” is presented on the left (known information) and “who” on the right (new information), both written in a big typeface at the background , drawing the viewers’ attention to the process and the person involved in it. Their central position in the slide indicates nuclear information. The use of colour in combination with typography in slide 1 is also meaningful and salient. For example, the connotative value of the orange background suggests energy, warmth (Barthes 1977). The second slide is a Bible quotation from Corinthians, presented against a black background: “[we are] troubled on every side yet not distressed [we are] perplexed but not in despair”. The quotation goes on with a smaller typeface: “persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4 : 8–9). Black here denotes a positive semantic prosody: strength and authority; it is considered to be a very formal, elegant, and prestigious colour. Another example of the combined use of typographic resources and colour can be seen in slide 24, where a thought balloon is used to depict Roger’s thoughts (Figure 2): 24

He put his hands against the window and watched them for five minutes. I knew he wished he could be outside with them.

02:04

Figure 2.  Combined use of a thought balloon and colour

In this case, the black perceptual input is associated with depression and negative feelings. Roger is moody when he is grounded for not being able to read properly. His thought – “I wish I could go outside” – is expressed in a balloon in white letters against a black background. This typographic message is multimodal. The bubble is visually joined to the frame through the continuity of the black colour. Indeed, speech balloons are graphic conventions commonly used in digital stories to complement the visual mode and mirror the characters’ feelings and states of mind. In To Every Child, speech bubbles are of three types: thought balloons, as the one previously commented on; speech bubbles with punctuation marks, frequently used in comics to depict the character’s emotions (slides 7, 8

The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 123



and 9); and finally, speech balloons, used to represent the speech of a given character (slide 15). We can see examples of all types from slide 7 onwards, while we listen to the narrator explaining when she discovered she would become a teacher: Slide 7

The first time I really knew that…

00:26

Slide 8

… I needed to be an educator, it was the day I woke up to come to teach…

00:28

Slide 9

…to Boston program. I thought about my one year old cousin…

00:31

Figure 3.  Examples of speech bubbles with question marks

The use of speech and thought balloons is not only a micro-level strategy, but also a macro level one, as evidenced by the repetition of the same question mark through slides 7, 8 and 9, sustaining thus the same mental space, that of a searching for a purpose in life, through the sequence of images showing the narrator at different stages in her life. When Sid Marie finally decides to be a teacher, the audience is shown slide 12 with the same image of Sid Marie but with an overwritten thought balloon which foregrounds her decision: Slide 12 It was then when I realized that I wanted to dedicate my life time and emotional being…

Figure 4.  An example of a thought bubble

00:50

124 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

The message in the text bubble – “I have to be an educator” – with the use of a deontic modal, have to, marks her stance of obligating herself and the use of an assertive body gesture – her left hand supporting that side of her face – indicates she assesses her choice positively. Again, the typographic strategy at this point, not only makes sense of slide 12, but also, at a macro level, connects it with all the previous ones, when Sid Marie was still dubious about her future. The sequence of speech bubbles finishes with slide 15 which mirrors Sid Marie’s decision to become an educator: Slide 15 That is when I knew that I was not the only one to carry on such a burden

01:05

Figure 5.  An example of speech bubbles

At a macro level, one clear example of a meaning making strategy used in To Every Child is the narrator’s use of pictures to extend and elaborate the (unverbalised) verbal information provided by the narrator about the main participants in the story. For example, most images used in To Every Child situate the story in a poor socioeconomic context which is never mentioned explicitly by the narrator. This type of intermodal identification between text and image is defined by Unsworth’s and Cléirigh (2009) as intensive identification, being the most significant type in this narrative, as well as in other digital narrations analysed in a previous study (Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013; Porto Requejo & Alonso Belmonte 2014). Less frequently, we have also found cases of circumstantial identification, by which the image visualises (unverbalised) geographical locations. This is the case in slide 3 with the 9/11 attack to the World Trade Center to illustrate that this narrative takes place in the U.S. A further development of this text-image intensive identification is the use of edited pictures throughout the narration. Edited pictures are used to attract the viewers’ attention to the image and to enhance its meaning provided by the verbal narration. For example, slide 5 shows an edited photo with overprinted newspaper headlines on violent events which illustrate black people’s hard life with real examples. In some other cases, we found the same image reused in different edited pictures. This is done for the purpose of providing visual coherence to the narration

The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 125



(Tseng 2013). Besides, its different editing formats enhance the meaning provided by the verbal narration. One clear example of this multimodal strategy is the use of little José’s picture in the digital story. It is shown to the audience for the first time in slide 10 and is later reused in two different edited slides (Figure 6). Slide 10 …sleeping on the living room floor with his older brother and sister. They no longer had a home, a bed nor even a street to claim as theirs, and so my mom quickly offered them hers.

00:34

Slide 11 I begin to wonder what kind of people they would encounter at school and who’s there to help them when we are not around.

00:45

Slide 16 (…) kept that image of that one year old in my head

01:11

Figure 6.  Edition of repeated images

In slide 11, little José appears at school on his own with a dragon and Frankenstein inserted in the background. These two background figures are sharper and more defined than the foreground. The viewer decodes the visual-conceptual interface, regarding the relationship between the images depicted and the prototypical encyclopedic information attached to them (Frankenstein represents abandonment and hopelessness, both he and the dragon are frightening creatures which can be dangerous). The background gospel music and the female voice, not specific of this slide but still present as in the rest of the story, link these meanings with those of overcoming difficulties and of urban black people social status (see Figure 7). As for slide 16, Little José’s edited photo is within the silhouette of a heart. The audience goes beyond the simple perceptual denotative recognition of Little José and captures Sid Marie’s positive emotion, her love for her little cousin. This clearly points at a connotative metonymic interpretation since the heart can be understood as a container and love as its content (Velasco 2001: 54). We interpret the

126 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

Children grow up and go to school

GENERIC SPACE

At school children meet other pepole

Little José

Female young voice

Frankenstein dragon the place (school) (nobody else around) INPUT SPACE 1 Visual mode

I begin to wonder what kind of people they would encounter at school and who’s there to help them when we are not around

Urban black accent Gospel song (Imagine me)

INPUT SPACE 3 Acoustic mode INPUT SPACE 2 Verbal mode

Black children are alone at school They may meet dangers and their teachers won’t help them. The narrator wants to be there to help black children

EMERGENT FINAL BLEND

Figure 7.  Conceptual Integration of slide 11

heart here, a body part metonymy, not just by looking at the individual element but discursively, that is, the heart is arranged into a visual syntax and constituting part of the whole: Sid Marie’s love for her cousin, which triggers her decision to become an educator for disadvantaged children to a certain extent. 8. The case of multimodal metaphors Multimodal metaphors are those where the combination of images and text provide a different meaning than those represented by each mode. There is a very significant micro-level multimodal metaphor at slide 3 that extends its meaning in the following slides 4 and 5 (see Figure 8).

The construction of meaning in multimodal discourse 127



Slide 3

Sometimes life can throw a curve ball

00:11

Slide 4

But for us, I mean, people of colour, we get a few curved balls all at once

00:15

Slide 5

And they do not come sometimes, they come often

00:17

Figure 8.  difficulties are curve baseballs

Taken together, the linear alignment in these three slides suggests the metaphorical reading difficulties are curve balls. This metaphor is multimodal in that the target is chiefly represented by the images (the Twin Towers, the house wrecked by a hurricane and the headlines juxtaposed) and the source is represented by the category curve ball. In this way, the conventional metaphor difficulties in life are curve baseballs is elaborated into the metaphor the 11-s terrorist attack is a curve ball, which highlights the idea that it is an exceptional situation. The idiom “throw a curve ball” from baseball in slide 3 – referring to any of several pitches that veer to the left when thrown with the right hand and to the right when thrown with the left hand – takes on a metaphorical meaning: “to cause to be surprised, especially unpleasantly” and more specifically, it refers to the unexpected difficulties a person has to overcome, i.e. when things are “curved” and not “straight”. When the metaphor is matched with an image of the 9/11 event, it suggests that the terrorist attack was one of these difficulties in life, but also that it was something very exceptional. See Figure 9 for a blending representation of the metaphor. This metaphor is further extended in slide 4, illustrated with a wrecked country house, to convey that black people get too many curve balls, i.e. too many difficulties, at once far more often in the next utterance “we get a few curve balls

128 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

CURVES ARE MORE DIFFICULT THAN STRAIGHT LINES STRAIGHT IS DEFAULT

New York City

GENERIC SPACE

A batter

terrorist attack

receives

curve trajectory

curve ball

September 11th

extraordinary

SPACE 2: 11-S TERRORIST ATTACK

A person faces up difficult situation unexpectedly

SPACE 1: LIFE IS A BASEBALL GAME

Catastrophes are exceptional situations in a lifetime that a person has to face up

Figure 9.  difficulties in life are curve balls

all at once”. The use of “we” in the second slide is a means of presenting collective consciousness, that of people of colour. This utterance from everyday verbal communication features life as a metaphorical target (life is a burden, Lakoff and Turner 1989:26). The hue and colours are cold and harsh, reinforcing the idea of adversity. Grey and blue colours can represent here the metaphor cold colour is hardship. The next slide (slide 5) shows newspaper headlines to point out that hardship and its practical outcomes for the people of colour happen every day and not so exceptionally. There are also many toys as mourning tributes and headlines superimposed in metonymic reference to violent deaths as the text says “And they do not come sometimes, they come often”. The headlines show the consequences of violence and thus reinforce the “curve ball” metaphor with documentary evidence from the news: on top (“Body found outside zoo gate”) is the essence of information as it is the most prominent visually, bottom and centre headlines give specific information (“Mom of two slain sons in peace walk”, “Violence hit home as bullet strikes”). These headlines work as anchorage (Barthes 1977) of the previous two slides facilitating the metaphorical relationship between hardships and people of colour. The metaphor is violent deaths (of black people) are curve balls, but also the idea transmitted is that there are many at the same time. The contrast



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between this and the lonely tower under the terrorist attack in slide 3 highlights the difference. The analysis of the multimodal metaphor presented so far is a micro-level one, even if it embraces three slides together. However, there is still a macro level reading of the same metaphor, since the rest of the story provides an account of one of the many “difficulties” that black people suffer in their lives. Thus, the metaphor can be said to extend through the whole story as discrimination of black children at school is a curve ball. In summary, this section has presented several multimodal strategies at play in this digital narrative. The analysis of the narrative confirms that the narrator uses macro and micro strategies to persuade her audience about the importance of devoting resources for teaching disadvantaged children. Among the former are the repetition of images providing visual coherence to the narrative, the edition of repeated images and the use of the same song throughout the story (a characteristic shared by digital narratives generally). The latter involve the relevant use of colour to convey experiential and interpersonal meaning, the use of bubbles to add emphasis to certain thoughts, the use of deictic gestures and last but not least, the use of multimodal metaphors to convey complex ideas. The metaphors have proved to be indeed a cognitive and multimodal resource, rather than a mere linguistic phenomenon. Multimodal metaphors are basic interpretative frameworks Sid Marie uses for organising information about the world and making sense of her experience through the different issues that are addressed. 9. Discussion of results The combination of functional and cognitive approaches to the study of narrative strategies in one digital story has provided a detailed account on the various devices for making meaning that both producer and interpreters use in order to construct the story. Using practices like uploading photographs to complement verbal text or using bubbles for emphasis have become tacit in this emerging genre, yet they represent concrete examples of merging semiosis with social practice. These multimodal strategies reveal several discourses embedded in Sid Marie’s narrative: the difficulties black and Latino people face in the US, the need for positive action to encourage urban youth of colour to consider teaching in Public Schools. She accounts for her position, establishes authority and integrates information from these three modes in a subjective stance-taking. In sum, To Every Child, as many other digital stories, functions as social networking websites used by people to communicate with peers and present their identities.

130 Silvia Molina and Isabel Alonso Belmonte

Not surprisingly, we have found out that the strategies used for providing coherence to the whole and to construct the global meaning of the narrative, i.e. the macro-level meaning making strategies, are the same as those used for interpreting small parts of it as sequentially presented, the micro-level strategies. Thus, the cognitive process of conceptual integration of images, background music and text works at both levels, as shown by Figures 7 and 9. On the one side, at every point in the sequence of slides, a process of integration of the three modes takes place, and on the other, a whole integration of the three channels is performed during the process of interpretation. Also, the multimodal intensive identification can be seen at work at both levels: at the micro-level, when the people appearing on the photos in a specific slide are identified with the characters in the text, e.g. “one of my Latino students, Roger…” (01′36″) or “my one-year-old cousin” (00′31″), and also at a macro level, enabling a more general identification between the narrator’s voice all through the story and several different images showing a girl at different ages, that is, the baby in slide 7, the child in slide 8, the teenager in slides 9 and 12, and finally the young girl at the present time in slides 15, 20, 26 and 28. Similarly, the use of bubbles helps to construct the meaning of a particular slide by making explicit the character’s thoughts or speech. But the analysis of the narrative has evidenced that bubbles can also function as a macro-level strategy, for example, the question mark that serves as an anchor through slides 7 to 9 and is finally answered in slide 12 (see Figures 3 and 4), or even at a more general level providing a coherent style to the whole, constructing a narrative where characters speak and reflect on their situation and aims in life. Colour is another multimodal resource used in this narrative within certain images for framing; thus, the black background frames the photo connoting depression in Figure 2 above, juxtaposed with the bright colours of the playground, which is the focus of Roger’s thoughts. Although present at a micro level, colour framing does not develop its complete potential in this digital narrative. Previous research shows that the culturally grounded symbolic use of different colours can also work at a macro level (Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013). Thus, findings lead us to think that narrators consciously choose and unfold the multimodal strategies which suit best with their narrative purposes. One of the most interesting results of this combined analysis of functional and cognitive approaches is the finding that both approaches are even closer than we might initially think. The meaning making devices examined separately in both frameworks converge in very similar explanations of the processes performed by producers and interpreters to construct the meaning of the narrative. Even if it is possible to find minor differences in the perspective, focus of analysis



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or terminology, the strategies identified by these two approaches and the descriptions provided of their functioning are basically the same. So for instance, in the functionally oriented multimodal analysis, following Kress and van Leeuwen (2001), three main modes of representation have been distinguished, verbal representation, visual-spatial and audio representation. Correspondingly, following Fauconnier and Turner (2002) Mental Spaces theory, it is possible to identify three main input spaces, the text or input space 1; the whole set of images or input space 2 and the background music and voice or input space 3. Another remarkable coincidence is the way in which the intermodal identification devices (Unsworth & Cléirigh 2009) analysed in the narrative can be paralleled with the cross-mappings established between elements in the input spaces. Whereas the emphasis in the functional approach lies in the interaction of those elements in separate modes, the conceptual integration theory focuses on the cognitive projection of elements from one input space onto those in another, subordinating these projections to those favored by the generic space. Even so, the correspondence between functional identification and cognitive cross-­mappings is quite straightforward. Finally, the whole process of meaning construction in a narrative by creating and activating or deactivating mental spaces (Porto & Romano 2010) shows remarkable correlations with the notion of framing (Kress 2010) in the functional multimodal analysis. The structure of To Every Child shows a clear differentiation in two main parts: a familiar, private sphere where the narrator grows up and becomes aware of the discrimination suffered by others, represented at this point by her little cousin, and a second part, which places the narrator within a more public, professional environment and shows her as a trainee teacher together with her classmates and her students, represented by Roger. This spatial differentiation corresponds to a conceptual one, since the first part of the story explains the reasons for her decision to become a teacher and the second the practical outcome of that decision. Therefore, from a functional approach it is possible to delimit two main frames that make demands of viewers to attend to the entities within the frame as interconnected and coherent. Frames can then be matched to the notion of a mental space as considered for the study of narratives, i.e. a sort of sub-­story that constitutes a part of the whole, with interconnections with other narrative, mental spaces that blend into a final one. Consistently, the notions of framing devices and mental space builders can be applied to the same devices, textual, visual or acoustic. For example, a shift in the verbal tenses or in the personal pronouns used in the story, a sudden change in the background music, or a specific image or colour can all serve as a framing device to delimit a mental space. The frame of the personal sphere of the narrator is opened in slide 7 (00′26″) when the first familiar photograph is displayed and the corresponding text moves from they and

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we (They also tend to come pretty early on in our lives) to the I pronoun (The first time I really knew…). This frame/mental space is “closed” in slide 13 (00′54″) by repeating the same image that had closed the introduction and opened this frame in slide 6 (00′22″) and a second space is opened in slide 14 with a photo of Sid Marie and her mates at the trainee teachers school. Again this group of students is shown in slide 33 to close the space and finish the story as the music turns up so that the audience can listen to the lyrics. Naturally all this convergence between functional and cognitive analysis is fully exploited in multimodal metaphors. The study of multimodal metaphors in this chapter has illustrated their dynamic and highly contextualized character, beyond mere linguistic metaphors. They are basic interpretative frameworks Sid Marie uses for organizing information about the world and making sense of her experience through the different issues that are addressed. The understanding of visual metaphors is closely related to our cognitive capacity and situational/ cultural context and Sid Marie uses them as tools of persuasion. She wants to convince her audience about the importance of teaching to disadvantaged kids. 10. Concluding remarks The mixed approach to the analysis of a digital story as a case study has revealed significant coincidences between the functionally oriented perspective to multimodal analysis of discourse and that of the Conceptual Integration Theory from a purely cognitive view. With similar premises as starting point, the tools developed by both frameworks seem to converge in the results of their analyses. As for the meaning making strategies identified and studied in To Every Child, they have proved to be working at two levels all through the story. On the one side, they serve to combine the information provided by each channel or mode at any given point of discourse and on the other side, the same strategies work to provide coherence to the whole, enabling to establish relations between the different parts that compose the story and so construct a global meaning. No doubt the study of multimodal discourse is a complex, challenging task as so many factors have to be taken into account in its construction by discourse participants. We would argue that only by using an eclectic approach it is possible to make a complex, in-depth analysis of the interplay of verbiage and image displayed in this kind of narrative. Furthermore, the study of one single story has enabled a fine-grained analysis of some of the tools that had already been glimpsed in previous work on the genre of digital stories (Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013; Porto Requejo & Alonso Belmonte 2014). However, it goes without saying that further work is needed in order to confirm these results, not only in more



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digital stories, but also in other types of multimodal discourse in order to better understand how they construct meaning and add richness to the modelling of multimodal text analysis.

Acknowledgements We owe a debt of gratitude to our research team colleagues for their suggestions and commentaries on earlier versions of this chapter. Particularly, we thank here Dr. Porto Requejo for her insightful comments and for our endless discussions on Cognitive Linguistics and Mental Spaces Theory.

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Multimodal metaphor, narrativity and creativity in TV cosmetics ads Laura Hidalgo-Downing, M. Ángeles Martínez and Blanca Kraljevic-Mujic

University Autónoma de Madrid / University Complutense de Madrid / University Rey Juan Carlos

The present article explores the interaction between multimodality and narrativity as a discourse strategy which promotes creativity as a socio-cognitive process in British TV cosmetics ads. Multimodal TV ads narratives are structured visually and aurally by means of the extended metaphors light is good and harmonious music is good, as well as other multisemiotic features. Two narrative patterns are examined: in the first type, story ending coincides with narrative ending; this is illustrated by two ads with specific metaphors which set out the problem to which the product provides a solution. In the second type, illustrated by two hair products ads, story ending coincides with narrative beginning, and displays multimodal metaphors which enhance the positive attributes of the product. Keywords: TV advertising, creativity, image and music, multimodal metaphor, narrativity

1. Introduction TV advertisements are a socio-cultural genre in which creativity relies on the interaction between various cognitive-discursive phenomena. The present article explores the interaction between multimodal metaphor and multisemiotic narrativity as a creative discourse strategy in a sample of British TV cosmetics ads. The study draws from research on creativity in everyday discourse (Carter 2004; Jones 2015; Hidalgo-­Downing 2015), in particular on advertising discourse and film (Caballero 2014; Forceville 1996, 2012; Forceville & Urios-Aparisi 2009; Martínez, Kraljevic Mujic & Hidalgo Downing 2013), and on the relationship between multimodal metaphor, multisemiotic affordances and narrativity (Forceville & doi 10.1075/pbns.262.06hid © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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Renckens 2013; Kress & van Leeuwen 2006; Stöckl 2002; Wolf 2007; among others). Although the relationships between multimodality and creativity, on the one hand, and between narrativity and creativity, on the other, have been the object of study of numerous research so far, the analysis of how multimodal metaphors and multisemiotic resources interact with narrative structure as a discourse resource for creativity has not been explored in depth (see Forceville & Rencken 2013; Gibbons 2012; Stöckl 2002; Wolf 2007; for exceptions). Our present study contributes to this line of research by examining the nature of multisemiotic TV ads narratives and their interaction with multimodal metaphors; in particular, we focus on the function of the extended metaphors light is good and harmonious music is good (Forceville & Renckens 2013) and additional metaphors in initial position of the ads. Our research questions are the following: – Is there a temporal match between story and narration, i.e. does story beginning and story end coincide with narrative beginning? – Are the light is good and harmonious music is good recurrent in our sample of cosmetics ads, and, if so, what is their discourse function? – What is the relation between narrative and descriptive modes in our sample of ads? – What additional multisemtiotic resources and multimodal metaphors are used in the advertisements (verbal, visual, aural)? – How do the above features interact as a complex discourse strategy for creativity in TV ads? – How does creativity in TV ads reflect the interaction of cognitive and social strategies in discourse? 2. Theoretical background As explained in the Introduction above, in the present study, we focus on creativity as a socio-cognitive discourse strategy which arises from the interaction of multimodal metaphors, multisemiotic affordances and narrative structure in TV ads. Each of the following subsections addresses these topics, starting first by the concept of creativity, followed by an overview of multimodal narrativity and narrative closure, and finally, an overview of multimodal metaphor and multisemiotic affordances. TV ads are a characteristically multimodal type of discourse, which involves the use of images, language and sound, each of which contribute to the creation of narrativity (see, for example, Cook 2001; Semino 2008; Jewitt 2009). Multimodal narrativity and metaphor in interaction are crucial discourse strategies as resources for meaning creation, as creative attention-grabbing cognitive



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devices and as sites of identity display of socially desirable attributes in contemporary advertising. 2.1

Creativity as a socio-cognitive discourse strategy in advertising discourse

The study of creativity over the last decade has emphasized its nature as a feature of everyday language and as a dynamic discursive phenomenon which emerges from the interaction between cognitive and socio-cultural experiences (Carter 2004; Jones 2015; Hidalgo-Downing 2015; Romano & Porto this volume). We take up the definition of creativity proposed by Sternberg (see the introduction to the present volume and Hidalgo Downing & Kraljevic Mujic 2013) as ‘the ability to produce work that is both novel (i.e. original, unexpected) and appropriate (i.e. adaptive concerning task constraint)’ (1999: 3). With regard to the data we analyse, TV cosmetics ads, creativity is characterised by the use of conventional metaphors with a slight twist which provides a vivid and attention-­grabbing dimension to the ad. Novelty is understood as a cline in originality and unexpectedness, and as a phenomenon which relies on the recontextualisation of already familiar experiences in order to explain and provide a new perspective on a product. Numerous studies support the view of advertising as a type of discourse which makes use of conventional metaphors in slightly creative ways by using multimodal resources (Caballero 2014; Forceville 2012; Forceville & Urios-­Aparisi 2009; Hidalgo Downing, Kraljevic Mujic & Núñez Perucha 2013; Semino 2008; White & Villacañas 2013). With regard to the dimension of creativity as adaptive in TV ads, we consider that the use of conventional metaphors in slightly creative ways, rather than the use of radically novel metaphors, constitutes an indication of the socio-­cultural and cognitive adaptiveness of the genre. As explained by Semino (2008), metaphors in ads are like a puzzle which requires a cognitive effort on the part of the viewer in order to interpret the message. If the task posed in order to solve the puzzle is too difficult, the message may not come through; however, if the puzzle is not too difficult, it is a source of pleasure and enjoyment in the potential consumer. As such, the metaphor performs a creative function as an attention grabbing resource which provides vividness to the advertised product and enhances its socially desirable attributes (also see Caballero 2014; Hidalgo-­Downing & Kraljevic Mujic forthcoming). The relation between creativity and multimodal narrativity has been the object of study in various genres, such as literature (Ryan 2012; Gibbons 2012), film (Forceville & Rencken 2013) and advertising (Martínez, Kraljevic Mujic & Hidalgo Downing 2013; Stöckl 2002; Wolf 2007) and is a current hot topic of research. Scholarly

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research has focused on the interaction between the position of specific metaphors, the presence of extended metaphors and the use of multisemiotic resources at specific points of the narrative in order to provide frames or perspectives for the narrative, offer re-interpretations of the narrative at specific points and create unexpected narrative endings. The idea that multimodal metaphors set a puzzle to be solved by the audience can be argued to be reinforced by the fact that TV ads narratives prototypically involve a problematic situation eventually solved by an anthropomorphic agent’s purposeful use of the advertised product. That is, we argue that the interaction between the problem-solution pattern of multimodal narrative ads and the puzzle-like nature of multimodal metaphors provides the building blocks for multimodal creativity as a discourse strategy in this genre. We wish to contribute to this line of research by addressing some of these issues, as pointed out in the introduction to the present chapter. 2.2

Multimodal narrativity

Narrative has been studied extensively in fictional and non-fictional discourse, and numerous scholars have addressed the phenomenon from an integrated cognitive and social-semiotic perspective (see Stöckl 2002; Wolf 2007; among others). Most scholars agree that narrativity is present not only in the verbal mode but also in other semiotic modes such as images and sound (Stöckl 2002; Wolf 2007; Forceville & Renckens 2013). One of the issues of debate is the nature of narration as a discourse type, and to what extent it can be distinguished from and overlaps with other discourse types such as description (Stöckl 2002: 9; Wolf 2007: 80). Stöckl provides a distinction between the narrative and the descriptive as organizing macro-frames of texts, and narration and description as parts of texts which may occur within a different type of macro-frame (2002: 9). Wolf, additionally, points out that the interaction between narration and description in multisemiotic texts allows for the use of one of the modes for narrative structuring while containing descriptive features, or viceversa: ‘There are patterns of text which are essentially shaped by pictures and graphic elements.’ (2007: 80). In these cases, we are facing two code or linguo-visual patterns which can be termed ‘visually structured text’ (ibid.). On analysing our sample of ads, it may be argued that these ads are characterized by a narrative visual and aural macro-­frame which is supported and anchored by a verbal description. The nature of the narrative macro-frame is clearly connected to the fact that there is a temporal ordering and a change of state based on a cause-effect relation: before and after using the advertised product. The descriptive component is present in the verbal and visual modes of the ads, which, following Stöckl, performs the following functions:



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a. to refer to phenomena and to permit their identification through the attribution of, in particular, sensory qualities. b. to provide representations that permit us to imagine or to re-experience these phenomena. c. to provide facts about these phenomena, rather than interpretations (2002: 15). Additionally, as pointed out by Wolf with regard to description, ‘Pictures in general convey atmosphere by colour, from the selection of the fragments (scene) of reality represented and the perspective constructed on it’ (2007:  80). The interaction between narrative and descriptive modes allows the advertisers to set out a problem-solution pattern in which a human agent visually performs an action and offers the solution to the problem together with the positively evaluated change promoted by the product; at the same time, the descriptive mode provides pseudo-­objective facts about the products which support the vividness and sensorial attention grabbing quality of the visual and aural modes (Stöckl 2002: 17). Finally, it is crucial to point out that narrative and descriptive configurations of texts are not just formal resources for discourse construal, but are psychological and cognitive triggers which appeal to the audience’s experiences, background knowledge, socio-cultural experience and needs (Wolf 2007). 2.3

The narrative nature of TV ads

Stories, packaged in a variety of multimodal resources, are the very fabric of daily human communication. Advertising discourse is not an exception, with the sub-­ genre of television commercials displaying a particularly high degree of narrativity. In their study of multimodal narrativity in TV ads, Martínez, Kraljevic Mujic and Hidalgo Downing (2013) claim that these audio-visual semiotic objects are deeply narrative in nature, identifying the fulfilment of all of Ryan’s (2006, 2012) basic conditions for narrativity, namely: the projection of a temporally located storyworld populated by individuated existents, which undergoes changes of state caused by external, non-habitual physical events. The TV ads in this study seem to present the advertised product as the external event causing changes of state in the multimodally projected storyworld. However, while the presence of storyworld projection, “eventfulness” (Hühn 2009), and changes of state is quite easily recognizable in the sample, one problematic issue found in this previous study is the question of closure, or meaningful end point of the narration. Indeed, the ads in the studied sample display different possible combinations of story end-point and narrative closure with remarkable effects on the multimodal resources used to prompt positive or negative evaluations of the storyworld by audiences. In the

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present study, we thus wish to explore the role and nature of closure and its relation to narrative world projection and the use of multimodal resources. A discussion of the connections between story end-point and narrative closure must necessarily begin with the long-drawn distinction between story and narrative. As Abbot (2007: 41) points out, “a story is composed of action (an event or events) and characters (more broadly existents or entities) and […] it always proceeds forwards in time.” The story’s ‘narration’ is “the process of telling” (Abott 2007: 39), and a narrative is the result of that telling, which need not – and frequently does not – follow the condition of temporal unidirectionality. In other words, while stories contain chronologically ordered sequences of events and move forward in time, narratives may present those events in different temporal combinations, usually for reasons of suspense and/or communicative effectiveness. In fact, it is quite unusual for a narrative opening to coincide with the temporal beginning of the story, even in the case of non-fictional narratives such as those found in newspapers. Narratives usually begin at a point of the story with a particular potential for the subsequent foregrounding of significant events, characters, or cause-effect relationships. In advertising, this may prove an invaluable mechanism for the highlighting of precisely those events, characters, and relations most likely to enhance persuasion and creativity. Story endings are subject to the same temporal constraint as story beginnings, that is, linearity in time. Narrative endings, however, are connected to the projection of a sense of completeness in the narration independently from the actual ending of the narrated story. It is this sense of completeness that numerous narratologists refer to as narrative closure. Defining closure, however, is far from easy, and it is frequent to find diverging, and even contradictory accounts in the specialized literature. Phelan, for instance, defines closure in this way: Closure […] refers to the way in which a narrative signals its end, whereas completeness refers to the degree of resolution accompanying the closure. Closure need not be tied to the resolution of instabilities and tensions but completeness always is. (2002: 214)

Completeness, on the other hand, can be defined as a condition “in which all that needs to be included has been presented” (Richardson 2002: 252). Fludernik (2009: 7) refers to closure as a “final state of affairs”, while other authors (Rabinowitz 2002; Richardson 2011) talk about conclusive endings. In his study of narrativity in drama, Richardson (2011: 191–192) addresses these ambiguities and even refers to cases in which “The conventional ending is (here) defamiliarised by being placed at the beginning […] Here, paradoxically, the enactment of the beginning of the story provides a very effective sense of closure.” This leads the author to quote Mortimer’s (1985) definition of closure as depending “on a



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feeling of satisfaction that the story’s elements ended at the necessary spot, problems posed are resolved […] in sum, what was opened is now closed” (Mortimer 1985: 15, in Richardson 2011: 183). As these quotations suggest, the notion of closure is connected to the feeling of fulfilment of expectations in the reader/ audience, rather than the degree to which a story ending is completed. These observations pave the ground for an understanding of the way in which story ending and narrative closure seem to interact in the television commercials analysed in this study, and the bearing that these interactions seem to have on the choice of storyworld projecting multimodal mechanisms. 2.4

Multimodal metaphor

Following authors such as Stöckl (2002), van Leeuwen (2009: 70) and Wolf (2007), we argue that both cognitive and social multisemiotic approaches complement each other. We first provide an overview of multimodal metaphor and subsequently we provide a review of multisemiotic resources, following Kress and van Leeuwen (2006). By multimodal metaphor we understand a metaphor that makes use of more than one mode (verbal, visual, aural) in order to create meaning (Forceville 1996, 2009; Forceville & Urios-Aparisi 2009). As argued by Forceville and Renkens (2013), the interaction of visual metaphors with sources in other modes and other discursive features will enhance the effect of the visual metaphor in film narrative. TV advertising makes use of verbal, visual and aural cues which interact to create complex discourse narratives which emerge from embodied image schemas (quality of colour, light and sound, among others). With regard to the analysis of multimodality which involves images, we adopt Forceville (1996, 2012) and Forceville’s and Urios-Aparisi’s (2009) approach to the analysis of verbal-visual multimodal metaphors as typically creative metaphors in which either the source or the target of the metaphor are cued in one or both of the semiotic modes simultaneously. The main features we discuss with regard to the visual dimension are the following: – – – –

Light (light vs dark) Colour (warm vs. cold, texture, etc.) Brightness (bright vs. dull) Hue (strident vs. soft)

More specifically, we explore whether the metaphor light is good and its equivalent aural metaphor harmonious music is good are prevalent in cosmetics ads,

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following Forceville and Rencken’s (2013) study on the light is good metaphor in film. With regard to the analysis of aural multimodality, we follow van Leeuwen’s (2009) approach to the analysis of voice quality as an indicator of metaphoricity in sound. Aural metaphors are clear examples of embodied metaphoricity: ‘Speech is material and experiential as well as semiotic and social. In speech, the somatic and semiotic intertwine’ (van Leuwen 2009: 69). Sound is ‘a very physical, very material thing. It bridges materiality and meaning. The resulting sound is not only tense, it also means ‘tense’ (2009: 70) (italics in the original). Thus, sound ‘can map out what kinds of experiential knowledge can then be exploited as meaning potential’ (ibid.). For the purposes of the present study, within the dimension of aural multimodality, we focus on the following features mentioned by van Leeuwen regarding voice or sound quality, which involve different degrees of tension of the vocal chords or instrument, or of rapidity/pace and: – Loudness, which ‘indexes social distance, both literally and figuratively’ (2009: 71). – Pitch range: pitch range refers to the higher or lower level of pitch measured in wave frequencies. Though human voices and instruments tend to have ‘natural’ pitch ranges, modifications in pitch may index changes in emotions, assertiveness or other social and private meanings. – Rhythm: rhythm refers to the structural organization of the melody in terms of a variety of options which range from slower to faster, constant or changeable, and from more regular to less regular or synchopated. Additionally, we make reference to some of the binary oppositions included in the system network of voice quality proposed by van Leeuwen (2009: 151, 2009: 75), in particular referring to the texture of loudness and pitch, namely, and the variables referring to rhythm introduced by ourselves following basic principles of musical theory: – – – – –

Loud vs. soft (loudness) Harsh vs. smooth (voice quality) High vs. low (pitch) Slow vs. fast (rhythm) Regular vs. synchopated (rhythm)

Our data shows interesting alternations between harmonious and non-harmonious dimensions of sound (variations in voice rhythm, pitch and loudness) to communicate different meanings.



Multimodal metaphor, narrativity and creativity in TV cosmetics ads 145

With regard to the position of metaphor, various studies show that metaphors in initial position have a strong attention-grabbing effect and provide a point of view for the narrative (Caballero 2014; Semino 2008). 2.5

Multisemiotic resources

Turning now to the social semiotic perspective, narrative patterns serve to show unfolding actions and events, processes of change and transitory spatial arrangements. According to Kress and van Leeuwen (2006: 46), it is important to observe that what in language is achieved by words of the category “action verbs” is visually achieved by means of “Vectors”. Narrative structures always have a Vector and are created by linearly arranged elements, usually in the form of an oblique line or by participants shown in motion. As regards the participants involved in a semiotic act, Kress & van Leeuwen (2006: 48) distinguish between the “Actor/Actress”, i.e. the participant where the Vector originates, and the “Goal”, i.e. the participant who the Vector is directed at (Kress & van Leeuwen 2006: 46–61). In our corpus, crucially, the fusion that takes place between the Vector and the Goal often signals the closure of the multimodal narrative process. The next significant aspect of visual configuration in TV ads refers to the way in which visual resources bring about relations between represented participants and the viewer: image acts. In visual communication, there is a choice between “offer” and “demand” (Kress & van Leeuwen 2006: 117–119). Those images which do not include participants looking directly at the viewer are “offers”. However, advertising often tends to use “demand”: an Actor/Actress often addresses the viewers directly by means of facial expressions or gestures, thus demanding that the viewer enters into an imaginary relation with him/her to achieve their persuasive goal. Another major aspect of visual configuration is the use of perspective (Kress & van Leeuwen 2006: 129). Thus, the selection of an angle or a “point of view” implies the possibility of expressing subjective attitudes towards represented participants, human or otherwise. The use of a high angle makes the subject look small and insignificant, while a low angle makes it look imposing and remarkable. However, if the image is at eye level, the point of view is one of equality with no power difference involved. Moreover, an image can have either a frontal or an oblique point of view. There is a difference between these two angles; they represent the difference between involvement and detachment. A frontal angle means that the producer of the ad, and consequently the viewer, are “involved” with the represented participants, whereas an oblique angle encodes that they are not. One final important

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dimension of the interactive meanings of images is related to the size of the frame, or a choice of a type of shot. A close-up shot shows a head or a part of the head of a represented participant. This type of shots is frequently used in ads, trying to show the represented participant’s feelings. A close shot shows her head and shoulders, while a medium close shot cuts off the subject at the waist and a medium shot to the knees. A medium long shot shows the full figure, whereas in a long shot, the figure occupies half the height of the frame, and a very long shot is anything broader than that (Kress & van Leeuwen 2006: 124–144). In most TV ads of cosmetics products in our corpus, the producers tend to use the close-­up and close or medium long shots of the protagonists as effective narrative resources. 3. Data and methodology This study is based on the analysis of twenty-one cosmetics ads extracted from a corpus of two hundred television commercials broadcast on the British ITV2 channel, and recorded for the purposes of analysis on 19th March 2009. The kinds of products examined are cosmetics, shampoos and hair care products; facial creams; anti-perspirants; facial wipes; make-up; hair dye; epilators; and skin care products at large. The methodology is qualitative and consists of two steps: first, an overview of the 21 ads in order to check (a) whether there is a temporal match or not between story and narration in these cosmetics commercials, that is, whether story endpoint and closure coincide in the narrative arrangement of the events and situations in the storyworld, and (b) whether the light is good and/or harmonious music is good metaphors are recurrent in the sample. Once these general aspects regarding the narrative and multimodal nature of the ads have been identified, we have selected four representative ads for detailed discussion. 4. Analysis and discussion The present section provides a discussion of how multimodal narrativity interacts with multimodal metaphor in our sample of TV ads. We first address general findings in the sample of 21 advertisements, in particular with reference to the narrative structure and to the occurrence of the light is good and harmonious music is good metaphors. Subsequently, we analyse in depth four representative advertisements which illustrate the two different patterns of multimodal narrativity discussed below.

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4.1

Narrative beginnings in television cosmetics ads

As explained above, narratives need not present events in a chronological order, so that it is not infrequent to find narrative beginnings that take as a starting point the ending point in the narrated story. This is precisely what can be observed in many of the 21 cosmetics TV ads found in our sample, as shown in Table 1. Many of these 21 ads are repeated along the day on which the recording was made, so that the total number of cosmetics ads viewings in the corpus amounts up to 45 instances, mostly occurring at the beginning and at the end of the day. As shown in Table 1, narrative beginnings that present story endings prove to be as frequent in the data (47.61%) as those that match story beginnings (47.61%), with only one case of low narrativity (48%); this ad consists of two photos of two products from different companies on sale at a well-known supermarket. Table 1.  Narrative beginnings in cosmetics TV ads Narrative beginning

Story beginning Story ending

Low narrativity

Total

47.61% (N = 10)

0.48% (N = 1)

100% (N = 21)

47.61% (N = 10)

The analysis reveals that the linear events in the cosmetics ads story are: (1) agent has beauty problems; (2) agent uses advertised product; (3) agent looks beautiful and gorgeous. The nine ads in which the narrative begins by prompting the projection of stage 1 in the story, that is, “agent has a beauty problem”, display in their opening scenes multimodal resources likely to prompt a negative evaluation of the projected storyworld, and continue with story stage 2, “agent uses advertised product.” Finally, mirroring the event sequence in the story, the narration finishes with stage 3, “agent looks beautiful and gorgeous.” However, a frequent number of the cosmetics ads in the corpus (47.61%) take the form of a narrative that begins with the story ending, or stage 3, “agent looks beautiful and gorgeous”, to continue with story stage 2, “agent uses advertised product”, in flashback, and finishing with a reiteration of the desired final state of affairs, that is, the beautiful woman. When this happens, audiences are invited to evaluate positively the initially projected storyworld that contains the end of the story, and this involves a totally different choice of storyworld projection triggering resources. These multimodal resources are of three types (Martínez et al. 2013): linguistic, visual, and auditory. When the narrative starts by prompting the projection of a storyworld to be evaluated negatively, as an undesired state of affairs regarding the character’s beauty, the linguistic organization of the narrator’s speech – either

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as offstage voice or as main character addressing the audience – tends to include lengthy sentences, as in examples (1), (4), and (5); syntactic subordination, as in (1), (3), (4), and (5); or a variety of modal markers, italicized in the examples, and which include the interrogative constructions in (2) and (4): (1) We all know a little bit of underarm stubble can feel like a lot of underarm stubble.” (Dove) (2) Panda eyes in the morning? (Johnson’s) (3) When I get stressed I get spots.” (Neutrogena) (4) You know these wrinkles that have settled in so deep you think they will never go away? (L’Oreal) (5) You don’t always need to consider professional treatments to target precise areas. (Olay)

By contrast, when an initially projected storyworld contains the story end-­point, the multimodal triggers tend to prompt a positive evaluation that will hopefully make the audience desire the state of affairs in which the protagonist finds herself. In these cases, linguistic organization is drastically simplified, and frequently consists of an imperative, an invitation to enter the fictional storyworld of the ad, as in examples (6)–(9). The other highly frequent linguistic opening for this type of ads is the name of the advertised product, as in (10)–(12). The specific triggers have been italicized: (6) Imagine your hair amplified. (John Frieda) (7) Treat your dry hair to the conditioning power of new Elvive Re-Nutrition. (L’Oreal) (8) Discover the feeling of just moisturized skin all day long with E45 Endless Moisture. (E45) (9) Look! This colour’s perfect! (Garnier) (10) New VO5 Elixirs, with a unique blend… (VO5) (11) Nivea Visage introduces… (Nivea) (12) Simple says: “Removing…” (Simple)

4.2

The light is good and harmonious music is good metaphors and other multimodal cues

On examining the 21 ads of our sample, we have confirmed our intuition that the light is good metaphor, on its own or accompanied by the harmonious music

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is good metaphor, is recurrent in the sample of ads. This fact seems to point at the presence of light as a metaphoric source and its associated properties (brightness, sparkle, purity, clarity, soft hue, etc.) as a basic resource for meaning construction in cosmetics ads. The light is good metaphor is used to represent background scenarios, the colour and hue of the product and the actor/actress’s skin and hair, together with the positive attributes associated to happy story endings in initial position. These usually portray the protagonist looking gorgeous and happy, with either sparkling white touches like rays of light or satin clothes, and with soft yellow and light blue tones, against white or rich dark backgrounds. When the narrative starts with the problematic beginning, however, colours tend to be pale, dull, or grayish, while the expression in the protagonist’s face is worried, serious, or even distressed. In these cases, the product’s name or image is never in initial position. Rather, its visual or linguistic presentation occurs right afterwards, very much as the eventful narrative element bound to bring about changes in the state of affairs. Auditory cues and the presence of the harmonious music is good metaphor most frequently involve the use of background music, and the most remarkable distinguishing features seem to be connected to sound quality, namely loudness, pitch and rhythm. While the opening chords in ads that begin with the narration of a happy story ending are frequently soft and harmonious, the opening melody used to trigger the projection of an undesired storyworld state of affairs tends to be harsh rather than soft, and with irregular, syncopated, slightly off-beat rhythms that may produce a disquieting effect. These then become louder, livelier, and brisker as the product-event is introduced and the narrative approaches the story happy ending. The musical metaphor is reinforced by additional musical metaphors in hair products (hair volume is musical volume, hair motion is musical motion). The analysis of narrative beginnings in the TV commercials in this study highlights the fact that the multimodal narratives found in cosmetics ads frequently resort to the defamiliarising effect of reversing the chronological order of the events in the story line, by starting with the presentation of the story ending-­ point, or moment when the main character looks beautiful and happy after having used the advertised product. 4.3

Four ads

We turn now to analyse in detail four examples of ads. We first analyse two ads in which the chronological or linear development of the story coincides with the narrative discursive organization and the problem-solution linear pattern. These

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two ads make use of an initial verbo-visual multimodal metaphor to present the problem and make use of the light is good and harmonious music is good as extended metaphors. 4.3.1 The ‘Dove’ ad The Dove ad (see Figure 1) is a 30-second long ad which reveals the linear development of events in the ad’s story; the story begins in initial narrative position. The narrative starts with the projection of a storyworld which presents a problem constructed by the multimodal metaphor underarm stubble is spikes on a cactus. This combination of a multimodal metaphor in initial position together with the presentation of the problem which opens the narrative sequence provides an attention-grabbing strategy which contributes to a slight creative twist in the ad. The image of the cactus, which forms part of our everyday experience, is recontextualised in a new context in order to draw the viewer’s attention. The strategy involves the activation of both cognitive (interpretation of the metaphor mappings and the problem solution pattern) and socio-cultural processes (interpretation of the connotations of spikes on a cactus and the positive properties of light and harmony) in order to interpret the message. The ad shows a young woman dressed in white, against a white background, touching the spikes of a giant sized cactus. The extended metaphor light is good is already present in this first shot, in the light silver clothes of the woman and the white background against which the green cactus stands out. A serious offstage female voice states that “We all know a little bit of underarm stubble can feel like a lot of underarm stubble…” The following scene shows the young woman from a low angle, which makes her look powerful and imposing. The narrator explains, “But what if we can avoid that prickly feeling…”, while the Actress is coming towards the viewer. Suddenly, a close-up shows that the cactus has become small and insignificant, which

Figure 1.  Dove ad



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metaphorically represents the minimized underarm stubble and the solution to the problem. This change in perspective highlights the light is good metaphor, as the camera focuses on the silver sandals and light dress of the woman. The end of the narration is expressed visually through the fusion of the Vector and the Goal, the protagonist‘s hand movement of throwing the cactus into a dustbin. The ad ends with the close-up shot of the happy protagonist applying the advertised product to her underarm, clean and white, free of dark underarm stubble, which represents the story end-point and the narrative closure. The relation between the multimodal metaphors and the narrative development in the ad also relies on a skilful process of highlighting and backgrounding of metaphorical sources and targets (the light in the background and the actresses’s clothes and skin, the evoked dark hair and the dark cactus) throughout the ad. The descriptive mode of the ad is present in the verbal description of the product, expressed by means of a voice over; it presents the pseudo-objective properties of the advertised product, enhanced by the image of the perfectly white and clean underarm skin of the protagonist: (12) ‘It contains pro-epil complex, with natural extracts, to make hair feel finer, softer and appear reduced.’

4.3.2 The ‘Johnson and Johnson’s’ ad In the Johnson and Johnson’s ad the story also begins in initial narrative position following the chronological order of the events in the storyline and coincides with an initial multimodal verbo-visual metaphor. In this 20-second Johnson’s ad (see Figure 2), the first scene shows a young woman getting out of bed; her look tells

Figure 2.  Johnson & Johnson ad

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the viewer that she is worried about something, she has puffy eyes, while we hear an offstage female voice asking, “Panda eyes in the morning?” This first shot introduces the PUFFY EYES ARE PANDA EYES metaphor in initial position, setting out the problem which will serve as a point of departure for the visual narrative. Additionally, the LIGHT IS GOOD extended metaphor is also introduced, by establishing a contrast between the desirable non-puffy white skin and the problematic dark stains of make-up under the eyes. The next scene shows the protagonist standing in front of a mirror in her bathroom holding a panda toy, thus reinforcing the multimodal metaphor puffy eyes are panda eyes. At the same time, the panda toy and consequently panda eyes represent the Vector in the multimodal visual narrative pattern which contributes to the projection of a storyworld that the viewer evaluates negatively, as an undesired state of affairs concerning the protagonist’s beauty. The whole setting is in low density pale colours as if the viewer is seeing the whole scene from the protagonist’s point of view. However, the state of affairs in the storyworld suddenly changes, and this is illustrated by the metonymic close-up shot of the protagonist´s fingers, representing the fusion of the Vector and the Goal, the advertised product while the woman is cleaning her eyes and face. The narrator stresses “Not with Johnson’s three in one facial cleaners” and adds at the end, “Panda eyes on the panda”, with the protagonist throwing the panda toy away from her. All these multimodal resources signal changes in the storyworld, prompting the viewers’ positive evaluation, and leading to the end of the narration. As in the Dove ad, the combination of the specific panda eyes metaphor in initial position, the extended light is good metaphor and the narrative structure ordered as starting from the problem to be solved, provide a creative strategy which draws the viewer’s attention in a slightly humorous way. Both in the Dove and the Johnson and Johnson’s ads the metaphor harmonious music is good is present; there is a contrast between harmonious melodic music which coincides with images that evoke a positive evaluation of the product and the whiteness of the skin, and the momentary presence of unharmonious music to highlight the problem in association with the visual metaphors of the cactus and the panda. It may be argued that music functions in these ads as an additional structuring discursive device by providing a contrast between the harmonious and non-harmonious sounds which accompany the visual narrative. We now turn to two advertisements of hair products which make use of aural metaphors to foreground the positive features of the advertised product. The positive evaluation coincides with initial story ending, that is, with the image of two women with beautiful, shiny, voluminous silky hair.



Multimodal metaphor, narrativity and creativity in TV cosmetics ads 153

Figure 3.  John Frieda ad

4.3.3 ‘John Frieda’ hair products The John Frieda collection hair products ad (see Figure 3) ad exploits the happy story ending in initial position and its co-occurrence with an additional musical metaphor, hair volume is musical volume. The ad lasts less than 20 seconds and combines simultaneously visual, verbal and sound resources in an effective way. The ad starts with the sound of disco music and a medium close shot of the word “imagine” surrounded by a flash of blue light against a dark background, while a female narrator convincingly pronounces “Imagine your hair amplified. New luxurious volume from John Frieda collection”. The extended metaphor light is good is present in the use of brightness and shine as properties of the hair treated by the product, while the harmonious music is good metaphor is present in the musical development of the ad, which makes use of brisk harmonious music, which shifts in volume as the hair moves. The next shot shows an attractive young woman with beautiful shiny hair. She is in a disco or a theatre stage setting, dressed up in shining clothes. The backgrounded blue light behind her visually shows the music volume in the shape of the columns of a sound amplifier which are transformed into the blue colour advertised products. The dynamic images of the protagonist’s voluminous hair are embodied through the moving images of the advertised products. The multimodal metaphor hair volume is music volume now foregrounds the qualities of the product and contributes to the projection of a positive evaluation of the storyworld. The shot changes to a close-up, in which the protagonist’s eyelines stand for the Vector, a narrative pattern which visually illustrates unfolding actions. It can be argued that the use of the multimodal metaphor hair volume is music volume together with other multimodal resources, creates a composition that leads to a positive evaluation that prompts the viewer to desire the state of affairs in which the protagonist finds herself.

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4.3.4 The ‘Panténe’ ad The Pantene ad occurs in minute 1.39 and, like the John Frieda ad, starts with the happy ending by showing a beautiful actress with shiny long hair playing the piano. The ad starts with an initial shot of a piano with the emblem of Pantene, a flame of light, placed at the centre of the image in combination with the aural metaphor harmonious music is good. The rest of the ad shows the musical performance of the actress in a musical crescendo. This ad plays with the extended metaphor light is good by using a white background against which the dark piano and the brunette hair stand out, and by means of the brightness of the hair and the light colour of the actresses’s skin (Figure 5). The metaphor harmonious music is good is also present as an extended metaphor, which is structured as a musical performance of a piano piece. As in the John Frieda ad, the additional multimodal metaphor hair volume is musical volume can be identified from

Figure 4.  Pantene ad 1

Figure 5.  Pantene ad 2



Multimodal metaphor, narrativity and creativity in TV cosmetics ads 155 .

the onset of the ad, together with the highlighting of the lightness of the hair in terms of the swift, melodic and harmonious nature of the musical piece (Figure 4). The ad ends with the actress Myleene Klass turning to the audience and saying “I’m Pantene”, a personifying metaphor. The descriptive components in the last two ads are present in the verbal mode; for example, in the Pantene ad the voice overstates: ‘Pantene presents: full volume and healthy body’ and the colourful images and pleasant music used in the ads to call the viewer’s attention reinforce the descriptive potentiality of the visual mode. In these last two ads, the creative strategy arises by placing the hair volume is musical volume in initial position of the visual and aural narrative, in order to project a positive and desirable storyworld. The ads play with the extended metaphors light is good, which foregrounds the hair’s brightness and shine and harmonious music is good, which foregrounds the rhythmic and melodic movement of harmonious music, and, by extension, of healthy hair. 5. Conclusions Turning now to the research questions we set out at the beginning of the present article, the following relevant points can be stressed from our findings. With regard to the question whether there is a temporal match between story and narration in our sample of cosmetics commercials, we have found that the distribution is similar for both patterns. While high narrativity tends to be a feature of television commercials, the frequency of initial position story endings is not so frequent in other ad types. The insurance ads in the two-hundred-ad corpus used in this study, for instance, tend to start with the problem and proceed chronologically forward with the story. The early positive evaluation of the storyworld, prompted by happy-­ending beginnings in cosmetics ads, in combination with the presence of multimodal metaphors in initial position, could be seen as inviting audiences to rush to premature closure, or narrative resolution, in this case understood as the hasty, ill-informed acceptance of the descriptive pseudo-objective properties of the product. Thus, the creative strategy of combining initial multimodal metaphors and happy-ending beginnings, which has a strong attention-­grabbing effect, may reveal an underlying manipulative persuasive intention on the part of ad creators. Indeed, these ads make use of stereotyped images of women with perfect skin and perfect hair, creating the illusion that this ideal is attainable. This social and cognitive dimension of the impact of creative strategies in advertising deserves further research. With regard to the presence of the multimodal metaphors light is good and harmonious music is good, our study shows that these metaphors are present

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in all the ads examined in the form of extended metaphors. We have argued that these metaphors combine with other multimodal metaphors and multisemiotic resources (vectors and angles) in order to highlight the positive properties of the product and of the nature of the skin and hair which has undergone the treatment with the advertised product. With regard to multimodal metaphor in advertising narratives, it can be argued that these perform the following roles: (i) to foreground the qualities of the product and contribute to the projection of a positive evaluation of the storyworld and (ii) to contribute to the projection of a negative evaluation of the storyworld if the product is not being used. Regarding our claim that cognitive and multisemiotic cues (verbal, visual, aural) play crucial roles in the organization of the narrative and the signalling of closure together with an expected positive or negative evaluation on the part of the audience, we have observed the following facts: the narrative component of the ads may be said to be manifested in the visual and aural modes, that is, we are facing visually and aurally structured narratives. The verbal mode enhances the narrative by providing descriptive features which attribute positive and pseudo-­ objective properties to the product. Additionally, the use of contrasts in visual cues (colour, light, brightness, hue) and auditory cues (loudness, pitch, rhythm) complement the verbal (linguistic) mode, often giving rise to complex multimodal metaphors which summarize the main point of the ad and its potential evaluation. Finally, with regard to how the interaction between multisemiotic and narrative features in TV ads contribute to creativity as a discourse strategy in this genre, our analysis reveals that visual and aural cues in combination with narrative strategies which play with temporal ordering of the story create puzzle-­like problem-solution patterns for the viewer. These are considered to be attention-grabbing and pleasure enhancing devices, which make use of vivid images, harmonious music and strategic narrative structuring. By contrast, we have pointed out that such strategic combination of multimodal and narrative features may evoke stereotyped representations of women’s beauty, in particular of skin colour and hair quality. A further step in the research of TV advertising may address the specific impact on viewers of the different strategies we have analysed, by exploring in greater detail the connection between the cognitive processes involved in the interpretation of the ads and the social construction of identity models in the viewer. To conclude, we argue that the interaction between the problem-solution pattern of multimodal narrative ads and the puzzle-like nature of multimodal metaphors which draw from our everyday experience provides the building blocks for multimodal creativity as a discourse strategy in this genre.



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Acknowledgements The present study has been carried out within a research project funded by the Spanish Ministry of Competitivity and Innovation (reference FFI2012-30790), for which we are grateful. We are also indebted to Barry Pennock-Speck for granting us access to the corpus of TV advertisements which we have used in the present study.

References Abbott, H. Porter. 2005. “Closure”. In The Routledge Encyclopedia of Narrative Theory, ed. by D. Herman, M. Jahn and M. Ryan, 65–66. London: Routledge. Abbott, H. Porter. 2007. “Story, Plot, and Narration.” In The Cambridge Companion to Narrative, ed. by D. Herman, 39–51. New York: Cambridge University Press.  doi:  10.1017/CCOL0521856965.003

Caballero, Rosario. 2014. “Exploring the Combination of Language, Images and Sound in the Metaphors of TV Commercials.” Atlantis 36 (2): 31–51. Carter, Ronald. 2004. Language and Creativity: The Art of Common Talk. New York: Routledge. Cook, Guy. 2001. The Discourse of Advertising. London: Routledge. Fludernik, Monika. 2009. An Introduction to Narratology. Abingdon & New York: Routledge. Forceville, Charles. 1996. Pictorial Metaphor in Advertising. London: Routledge.  doi:  10.4324/9780203272305

Forceville, Charles. 2009. “Non-verbal and Multimodal Metaphor in a Cognitivist Framework: Agendas for Research.” In Multimodal Metaphor, ed. by Charles Forceville and Eduardo Urios Aparisi, 19–42. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. doi: 10.1515/9783110215366 Forceville, Charles. 2012. “Creativity in Pictorial and Multimodal Advertising.” In Discourse and Creativity, ed. by Rodney Jones, 113–132. Essex: Pearson. Forceville, Charles and Eduardo Urios Aparisi. 2009. “Introduction.” In Multimodal Metaphor, ed. by Charles Forceville and Eduardo Urios Aparisi, 3–17. Berlin: Moutaon de Gruyter.  doi:  10.1515/9783110215366

Forceville, Charles and Thijs Renckens. 2013. “The good is light and bad is dark metaphors in feature films.” In Special issue on Metaphorical Creativity Across Modes. Metaphor in the Social World, ed. by Laura Hidalgo Downing and Blanca Kraljevic Mujic, 3 (2): 160–179. Gibbons, Alison. 2012. Multimodality, Cognition and Experimental Literature. London: Routledge. Hidalgo-Downing, Laura. 2015. “Dimension of Creativity: Metaphor and Metonymy” In The Routledge Handbook of Language and Creativity, ed. by Rodney Jones, 107–128. London/ New York: Routledge. Hidalgo Downing, Laura and Kraljevic Mujic, Blanca. 2013. “Introduction.” In Special issue on Metaphorical Creativity Across Modes. Metaphor in the Social World, ed. by Laura Hidalgo Downing and Blanca Kraljevic Mujic, 3 (2): 133–139. Hidalgo-Downing, Laura and Kraljevic Mujic, Blanca (forthcoming) “Metaphor and persuasion in commercial advertising” in The Routledge Handbook of Language and Metaphor, ed. by Elena Semino and Zsofia Demijen. London/New York: Routledge.

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Hühn, Peter. 2009. “Event and Eventfulness.” In Handbook of Narratology, ed. by Peter Hühn, John Pier, Wolf Schmid and Jörg Schöner, 80–97. Berlin & New York: Walter de Gruyter.  doi:  10.1515/9783110217445

Jewitt, Carey. 2009. “An Introduction to Multimodality.” In The Routledge Handbook of Multimodal Analysis, ed. by Carey Jewitt, 14–27. London/New York: Routledge. Jones, Rodney. 2015. The Routledge Handbook of language and Creativity. London/New York: Routledge. Kress Gunther and van Leeuwen, Theo. 2006. Reading Images: The Grammar of Visual Design. London/New York: Routledge. Martínez, M. Ángeles, Kraljevic Mujic, Blanca and Hidalgo Downing, Laura. 2013. “Multimodal Narrativity in TV Ads“. In The Multimodal Analysis of TV Commercials, ed. by Barry Pennock-Speck and María M. del Saz-Rubio, 91–111. Valencia: Universitat de València. Phelan, John. 2002. “Narrative Progression.” In Narrative Dynamics: Essays on Time, Plot, Closure and Frames, ed. by Brian Richardson, 211–216. Ohio: The Ohio State University Press. Rabinowitz, Peter. 2002. “Reading Beginnings and Endings.” In Narrative Dynamics: Essays on Time, Plot, Closure and Frames, ed. by Brian Richardson, 300–313. Ohio: The Ohio State University Press. Richardson, Brian. 2002. Narrative Dynamic: Essays on Time, Plot, Closure and Frames. Ohio: The Ohio State University Press. Richardson, Brian. 2011. “Endings in Drama and Performance.” In Current Trends in Narratology, ed. by G. Olson, 181–199. Berlin, New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Ryan, Marie Laure. 2006. “Semantics, Pragmatics, and Narrativity: A Response to David Rudrum.” Narrative 14 (2): 188–196. doi: 10.1353/nar.2006.0006 Ryan, Marie Laure. 2012. “Toward a Definition of Narrative.” In The Cambridge Companion to Narrative, ed. by D. Herman, 22–35. New York: Cambridge University Press. Semino, Elena. 2008. Metaphor in Discourse. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sternberg, Robert J. 1999. Handbook of Creativity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stöckl, Harmut. 2002. “From Space to Time into Narration – Cognitive and Semiotic Perspectives on the Narrative Potential of Visually Structured Text“. In Investigations into Narrative Structures, ed. by Christian Todenhagen and Wolfgang Thiele, 73–98. Peter Lang: Frankfurt am Main. van Leeuwen, Theo. 2009. “Parametric Systems: The Case of Voice Quality.” In The Routledge Handbook of Multimodal Analysis, ed. by Carey Jewitt, 68–77. London/New York: Routledge. Villacañas, Beatriz and White, Michael. 2013. “Pictorial Metonymy as Creativity Source in ‘Purificación García’ Advertising Campaigns”. In Special issue on Metaphorical Creativity Across Modes. Metaphor in the Social World, ed. by Laura Hidalgo Downing and Blanca Kraljevic Mujic, 3 (2): 221–240. Wolf, Werner. 2007. “Description as a Transmedial Mode of Representation: General Features and Possibilities of Realization in Painting, Fiction and Music“. In Description in Literature and Other Media, ed. by Werner Wolf and Walter Bernhart, 1–90. Rodopi: Amsterdam.

Multimodal discourses of collective memory Małgorzata Fabiszak

Adam Mickiewicz University

The aim of this paper is to analyze the interaction of the visual and the verbal layers of the memorials in the former extermination sites in Poland (cf. Young 1993). Two of the selected memorials were designed and erected in the 1960s (Chełmno nad Nerem and Majdanek) while the other two (Bełżec and Radegast) in the 2000s. The four case studies use the analytic categories of image schemata and metaphoric and metonymic extension in the analysis of the memorial landscape and critical discourse analysis in the analysis of the verbal layer. Memorials are memory carriers which have been constructed to facilitate rituals of commemoration designed to strengthen the in-group ties and collective identity. They thus become the potential vehicle of ideology of the period in which they were created. The analysis of the verbal and visual elements of the representation show how the change in the dominant discourse affected the design of the memorials, as well as how the traumatic landscape, in which these memorials are erected, motivated their imagery. Keywords: memorials, critical discourse analysis, multimodal schemas and metaphors

1. Introduction Collective memory is a term proposed by Maurice Halbwachs (1980) and refers to the memory of a group. It assumes a distinction between autobiographical memory and historical memory, where the first is internal and based on an individual’s life events – the lived experience, while the other is external – learnt through an interaction with the socio-culturally and historically grounded community. The external memory is often fossilized in what Nora (1989) calls les lieux de mémoire, which can take the form of, i.e., libraries, archives or memorials. As “memory attaches itself to sites” (Nora 1989: 22), the acquisition of collective memory proceeds through social practices enacted in such places of memory. These artefacts

doi 10.1075/pbns.262.07fab © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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as well as written commemorations form what Jan Assmann (2011) calls a society’s long term cultural memory. Social practice remains in a dialectic relationship with discourse and can be mediated both verbally and visually. Discourse shapes social practice and is in turn shaped by it (Fairclough 1995; Van Dijk 1993, 2006; Wodak & Meyer 2001). The participants interacting in the public sphere employ specific discoursive strategies to negotiate their meanings. The construction, questionning and reconstruction of new or re-newed representations of collective memory take place in a constant process of recontextualization which Wodak (2006: 132) describes in the following words: “arguments, topics, narratives, events, appraisals, topoi, etc. change when transmitted from generation to generation, from one genre to another, from one public space to a different sphere, and so on.” These changes can be observed in social interaction, in language use. Analysing language in use is also the aim of cognitive linguistics, which by analysing use attempts to discover general cognitive processes and representations that motivate both language and other types of meaning construction. The basic assumptions of this approach is that cognition is both embodied, i.e. it stems from an individual’s interaction with the the natural environment; and situated, i.e., emergent from the shared activity with other people and cultural symbols (Bernárdez 2007, 2008). This chapter connects these two approaches to discourse, that is, critical discourse analysis and cognitive linguistics, by investigating the externalizations of collective memory in the form of memorials with the use of analytic tools developed within cognitive linguistics. The research aim is to investigate the interaction of the visual and the verbal layers of the memorials in the former extermination sites in Poland (Young 1993). Two of the selected memorials were designed and erected in the 1960s (Chełmno nad Nerem and Majdanek) while the other two (Bełżec and Radegast) in the 2000s. Such choice of data will allow us to trace the re-current patterns in their design, despite the change in socio-political and historical situatedness. The difference between these two periods lies not only in the fact that the political system changed in Poland as a result of post 1989 transformation, but also in that the opening of the European borders and the demise of the Iron Curtain has increased international tourism to Holocaust memorials situated in Central and Eastern Europe (Kącka 2012). Memorials are what Golka (2008) calls implants of memory, that is, memory carriers which have been constructed to facilitate rituals of commemoration designed to strengthen the in-group ties and collective identity. They thus become the potential vehicle of ideology of the period in which they were created. The analysis of the verbal and visual elements of the representation shows how the change in the dominant discourse strategies affected the design of the memorials,



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as well as how the traumatic landscape, in which these memorials are erected, motivated their imagery. The approach adopted in this paper stems from cognitive linguistics, in particular, conceptual metaphor theory, which aims at explaining conceptualization and understanding through references to such theoretical constructs as conceptual metaphor, metonymy, embodiment and image schemata. Lakoff and Johnson (1980, 1999) define conceptual metaphors as coherent systems of correspondences between the domains of experience, which facilitate human understanding and interpretation of the world. Metonymies provide a direct access to the conceptual domains through its most salient element in a given context. These mental processes can take the form of metaphorical linguistic expressions as well as visual design (Kövecses 2002: 58–59). For example, the social realist statues like the Workman and the Kolhoz woman by Vera Mukhina from 1937 operate on the metaphor significant is big. Similarly, the church spires reaching up to the sky, symbolize the connection between the believers and God and their meaning is motivated by the metaphor god is up. One of the basic premises of conceptual metaphor theory is that conceptualization is embodied, i.e., it emerges from the interaction of a human as a biological organism – a body moving through space – with the surrounding environment. Rohrer (2007: 27) in his overview of the meaning of the embodiment hypothesis in cognitive linguistics starts with the following formulation: “human physical, cognitive, and social embodiment ground our conceptual and linguistic systems”. This general claim emphasizes that both language and cognition broadly speaking are based on three interacting dynamic systems: the physical, the cognitive and the social. The physical system can be understood both as the physical, bodily aspect of being human, as developed within the body-specificity hypothesis (Cassasanto 2009, 2011), but it may also refer to the interaction with the geographical and socio-­cultural environment through perception, motion through space and manipulation of objects. These latter experiences are categorized in the form of sensory-­motor image schemas (Johnson 1987; Oakley 2007), which can be exemplified by, for instance, container, containment, path, scale. The schemas of container and containment are related as they emerge from our experience of walking into and out of rooms and buildings as well as putting things in and taking them out of containers. They are constituted by such structural elements as interior and exterior and the boundary between them. They may underline our conceptualization of emotions via the metaphor emotions are containers, and social relations via the more abstract concepts of belonging and exclusion. The role of the path schema has been noted also by the researchers operating outside the cognitive linguistics approach in other disciplines: such as architecture and tourism studies. For example, Rosenberg (2012: 131) discusses the

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relationship between memory and urban landscape and states: “…memory is evoked and mediated by our relationship to physical place through the commemorative practice of walking. In this new genre of memorial the landscape is designed to be experienced through movement…” She develops her concept by proposing three modes of walking: “walking as journey; walking as transformative encounter, and walking as an everyday urban practice” (p. 132). In what follows we will exemplify the second mode. In her analysis of the Vietnam’s Veterans Memorial in Washington (1982) and The Memorial to the Deportation in Paris (1962), she emphasizes: The processional approach to each of these memorials is a critical aspect of the memorials’ design. In these examples, walking in the landscape has an abstract, archetypal quality drawing on the symbolic meanings associated with descent into the earth or ascent towards the sky. The path is designed as a journey or passage to the meditative space of commemoration, invoking a sense of the sacred or the sublime.  (2012: 135)

A similar observation is made by Gross: An internationally recognizable memorial architecture seems to be emerging, one emphasizing gaps, voids, incongruities and the personal relation to … ‘negative’ or ‘evil sublime’. (…) Contemporary memorials … act out the trauma of the Holocaust as architecture; walking through them is supposed to be a step towards working through that trauma as feeling and experience.  (2006: 76)

Likewise, Buntman with respect to the Bełżec memorial claims: The artwork serves to make the invisibility paramount and turns silence into testimony which operates to make testimony tangible, and acts of conscience possible. (…) The hidden layers, the literal signs and symbols, the metaphors, work together with the viewer’s gaze and physical progression to stimulate memory and recall that which lies buried both in the ground and within the visitor’s being.  (2008: 423)

The three excerpts above converge on the descriptions of memorial landscapes as spaces, which, through their design, create certain affordances (Sinha 2005), ways of interacting with the environment that the visitors are invited to explore. What these descriptions lack, however, is a systematic categorization of the experiences in terms of mental representations, which contribute to the construction of meaning in such multimodal discourses of collective memory. This is where the analysis of these discursive strategies may benefit from the tools developed in cognitive linguistics for the analysis of meaning making. Image schemata and conceptual metaphors and metonymies are exactly such analytic concepts, which



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can contribute to the elucidation of the cognitive processes involved in the interpretation of the memorial landscapes. 2. The data Four memorials were selected as the material for analysis: Chełmno nad Nerem, Majdanek, Bełżec and Radegast. The memorial in Chełmno nad Nerem1 (see Photo 1) was designed by Józef Stasiński and Jerzy Buszkiewicz and erected in 1964. It consists of a massive slab of concrete 35 by 36 metres, 6–7 metres high of irregular shape, supported on five concrete pyramids. The front face of the memorial is divided into two parts. The larger part is formed by a relief of a group of people: men, women and children bent forward as if under the weight of their fate walking from left to right. The smaller piece has one word on it: Pamiętamy – in Polish – “We remember”. On the surface of the back wall of the monument a text reconstructed from a letter of one of the victims – most probably Mr. Izaak Siegelman or

Photo 1.  Chełmno nad Nerem (Kulmhof am Ner). A side view of the front face of the memorial with the human figures relief and the word: “Pamiętamy” [We remember]. Three of five supporting pyramids are visible. Photo by the author.

1. Information about the site is party based on my two visits to the memorial in March and April 2011 and on Pawlicka-Nowak (2004).

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Photo 2.  Majdanek. The Gate and the first part of the Road of Tribute and Memory. The Mausoleum visible in the distance at the end of the Road. Photo by Alians PL from Wikimedia commons. http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alians_PL_Obchody_ 64_rocznicy_likwidacji_KL_Majdanek_23_07_2008,P7230064.jpg

Photo 3.  Majdanek. The narrow passage leading from the first part of the Road of Tribute and Memory to the viewing platform. The narrow escape. Photo by Danuta Olesiuk.



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Ziegelman – and written in Polish is carved out. The smaller monuments, added later to the memorial landscape, are not a part of the present analysis.2 The memorial complex in Majdanek3 (see Photos 2 and 3) was designed by Wiktor Tołkin and dedicated in 1969. It consists of the Gate, the Road of Tribute and Memory, and the Mausoleum. The Gate is 10,8 x 35 x 7,6 meters. The Road starts before the Gate and first leads down the steps to a hollow in the platform that is 4 meters wide and 60 meters long with the sidewalls made of rugged sandstone jutting ominously into the passage. Another flight of steps leads up to the platform under the Gate from which the visitors descend again down the steps onto the second part of the Road, which runs 1300 meters along the fence of the former concentration camp. The Road ends with the steps ascending to the Mausoleum. It is formed by an urn 35 meters wide, and a 14.5 m high dome. The urn is filled with human ashes from the crematorium. The ashes are sealed with sodium silicate or liquid glass to protect them from wind, rain and plant seeds. The first commemoration complex in Bełżec4 was designed by Stanisław Strzyżyński and built in 1963. It consisted of several structures. The main memorial was situated where the gas chamber was and consisted of two emaciated human figures supporting each other and a cube-shaped structure with an inscription dedicating the memorial to the victims of Hitler’s terror. The cremation stacks were also identified by stone memorial and a number of symbolic graves marked by small walls and urns. In the 1990s this memorial was deemed inadequate and in 2004 a new project memorial complex designed by Andrzej Sołyga, Zdzisław Pidek and Marcin Roszczyk was built (Photos 4 and 5), which had been preceded by meticulous archaeological research. The entire area of the former extermination camp was fenced and covered with industrial slag, which seals the human remains beneath and protects them from any form of desecration. The former railway ramp is reconstructed and the museum building – a cuboid-­shape concrete structure with cast-iron connectors every 20 m symbolizes a train. The ramp ends with a monument in the form of a stack of rail beams and tracks. It is complemented with an inscription on the perimeter wall – a poem by Dan Pagis, originally written in pencil on a train carriage wall. The field of industrial slag is cut through by a road – the Interstice. It starts where the barracks for undressing 2. I have analysed the dialogic nature of the Memorial vis à vis additional smaller memorials erected on the grounds of the former extermination site in the 1970s, 1990s and 2000s in a chapter published as Fabiszak (2016). 3. Information about the site is based partly on my visits to the memorial in June 2010 and 2011 and on Olesiuk- Kokowicz (2009). 4. Information about the site is based on my visit to the memorial in September 2013 and on Kuwałek (2010).

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Photo 4.  Bełżec. An overview. Photo by the author.

Photo 5. Bełżec. The Interstice. Photo by the author.

were and runs towards where the gas chamber was. It follows the course of der Schlauch – the path uphill taken by the victims. It is the only place in the whole area where archaeological research did not identify human remains. The passage is 2.5 meters wide and the walls on its both sides reach 11 meters in the highest point. The walk ends in a rectangular opening – a niche or an Ohel with over 1200 first names of the victims. It is closed with a tall granite wall with a fragment from the Book of Job in Hebrew, Polish and English: “Earth, do not cover my blood:



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let there be no resting place for my outcry” (Job 16: 18). As the Interstice is cut in the slope of a hill, at the end there are two staircases ascending to the perimeter path with place-names of towns and villages of the victims. Polish place names are written in Polish and Yiddish, other place names in their original languages and Hebrew and ordered alphabetically within months and years when the transports from these places came to the camp. The last memorial selected for analysis is the former railway station of the Litzmanstadt ghetto – Radegast5 (Photos 6–8). The memorial was designed by Czesław Bielecki and Maria Twardowska and dedicated in 2005. Unlike Bełżec and Chełmno, which are located in rural and forested areas, and unlike Majdanek, which – even though it is situated at the outskirts of the city of Lublin – in itself constitutes large natural landscape, Radegast is a railway station surrounded by the city of Łódź and its buildings. This is why it has been separated from them with a tall concrete wall, which at the end of the railway square ends with large matzevahs (stone memorials) with the names of concentration camps written in Gothic (Schwabacher) script in German, as is the name of the station on the

Photo 6.  Radegast. The concrete building on the left with 1939 engraved on it is the Tunnel of the Deported. The dark wooden building with a Radegast plaque is the railway station now housing the museum collection. Behind it there is the wall of the symbolic mazevahs – the tombstones with the names of concentration and extermination camps plaques. Photo by Dariusz Chulczyński.

5. Information about the site is based on my visit to the memorial in April 2011 and June 2012 and from the website of the memorial’s architect Czesław Bielecki (date of access 21 January 2014).

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Photo 7.  Radegast. The Hall of the cities with the broken chimney and the Tunnel of the Deported. Photo by the author.

Photo 8.  Radegast. The Tunnel of the Deported inside. Photo by Zuzanna Ziółkowska.

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wooden station building now housing the permanent exhibition. A rail track runs along the station ramp with a couple of freight carriages and a steam engine from the war period. A 140-meter long concrete Tunnel of the Deported leads to the Hall of the Cities. On the walls of the tunnel the deportation lists are framed and lit by spotlights. The Hall of the Cities is a red brick cuboid-shaped building with a broken Column of Remembrance on top. It is possible to reach it through the Tunnel and look up the column/chimney to see the sky. It is also possible to have a look inside the Hall of the Cities through iron bars in the door. The door bars are adorned with David’s Star. There is an inscription over the door in Hebrew, Polish and English: “Thou shalt not kill”. Names of cities, towns and villages from which Jews were deported to Litzmanstadt are listed on the wall in their original languages and in Hebrew. The sizes of the letters reflect the size of the communities. This outline description of the four memorials lays ground for further detailed analysis. In particular the analysis will concentrate on certain features of memorial landscape designed to evoke particular emotions in the visitors and will try to explain how it is achieved or mediated via metaphor, image schemata and embodiment. 3. Analysis of the landscape and verbal features 3.1

The gate

Both in Majdanek and in Bełżec, the border between the world of the living and the world of suffering and death is clearly marked. In Majdanek, it is the symbolic Gate, which, according to Tołkin, was inspired by Dante Alighieri’s Hell’s Gate. Similarly, the red corrugated iron square plate 8 x 8 m at the entry of the Interstice in Bełżec with an irregular Magon David marks the beginning of what used to be der Schlauch – passage fenced with barbed wire and covered with tree branches between the barrack for undressing and the gas chamber. These architectural features instantiate the path and container image schemata. Through these mental categories, the physical walking over or through these demarcated material borders can be interpreted metaphorically as crossing the borderline between life and death. The passage in physical space – through the gate and over the threshold plate – is the metaphorical passage from the humane outside to the inhumane inside, from the world of subjecthood, where it was still possible to make decisions and to act on them to the space of complete exclusion, where all rights are revoked and where the journey can only end in death. The creation of these physical markers of crossing the border between these two worlds helps the visitor to the memorials to leave their life behind and to focus on the reflection, on experiencing the

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empathetic bond with the victims. This feeling is further strengthened by several other features of the memorial landscapes analyzed below. 3.2

Rough walks

Both in the 1960s memorial in Chełmno and in the 2000s ones in Bełżec and Radegast, the tactile sensory potential of uneven walking surfaces is exploited. In Chełmno, as the visitor approaches the large structure and ventures underneath it, the even path changes into a multitude of separate flagstones, which give an experiential signal of the change of circumstance. The unstable surface increases the sense of insecurity and requires the effort to proceed, but also invites reflective engagement with the traumatic landscape around. In Bełżec, the Interstice is paved with cobblestones, slippery on a rainy day, which again increases the sense of insecurity. In this way, the uneven surface, the literally insecure ground triggers the feelings of vulnerability and anxiety, which in turn create an emotional connection between the remembering and the remembered. Butnam (2008: 433) interprets these cobblestones as reminiscent of the streets of the Galician towns through which the Jews were rushed on their way to extermination. This link, she claims, facilitates the visitors’ identification with the victims, connects their lived experience in the memorial space with the memory work. Finally, in Radegast, the area of the memorial is clearly marked out not only by the wall, but also by the change of the surface – from the city of Łódź even pavement to the cobblestones of the memorial area. In all three cases this change emphasizes the effort and the discomfort that the visitors to such traumatic landscapes must face and integrate with their commemorating experience. An alternative interpretation for the role of the uneven walks could be that, in particular when they are contrasted with a relatively even pavement of the surrounding area, they indicate chaos, disorder and confusion by threatening the existing smoothly organized life.6 The process underlying the meaning construction potential of the rough walks is again linked to the path image schema. Here, the uneven surfaces activate the concept of ‘obstacles’ which are metonymically related to paths. These may be interpreted as obstacles on the way to understanding the past, obstacles on the way to appropriately commemorate the past or the plight of the victims themselves. In fact, as mentioned above, the cobblestones may provide a metonymic link to the historical physical reality of the Eastern European shtetls.

6. I would like to thank Ms. Marta Mysakowska, MA for this suggestion.

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3.3

Constricted spaces

In Majdanek (1960s), Bełżec and Radegast (2000s) the visitors are invited to approach the main memorial space through a narrow, claustrophobic passage. In Majdanek they first descend down the stairs to a 4 m x 60 m ravine with large sandstones perilously overhanging the passage. The image evokes biblical associations with the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The rugged walls push at the passers-­by creating a menacing feeling of imminent threat. The alley ends with another flight of stairs leading up to a platform under the first part of an abstract memorial block – the Gate – styled after Dante Alighieri’s Hell’s Gate. A very narrow passage leading from the main path right to the viewing terrace – perhaps symbolically representing the narrow possibility of escape – may be completely overlooked. In Radegast, the 140 m long Tunnel of the Deported leads from the railway square and platform into the dark (see Photo 8). The corridor bends slightly so that the end of the journey in the symbolic gas chamber – The Hall of the Cities – is not visible; the future – threatening and unknown. The metal tracks on the ceiling are reminiscent of those by the platform. As the visitor walks through the tunnel, miniature spotlights switch on and bring out of the oblivion the transport lists with names of the people transferred from Łódź ghetto to the concentration and extermination camps. In Bełżec the walk down the Interstice, which follows der Schlauch – the path to the gas chambers – imparts the experience of entrapment, as the walls on the sides of the path grow taller – to 11 meters – and the path narrows. Escape becomes gradually more impossible with every step, as the walls steeply hover over the visitors, shading them from the sun. In all three cases the design features of the environment create an impression of the walls enclosing on the visitor, where the physical container activates the image schema, which can, in turn, motivate the metaphorical extension of the experience of being enclosed in a constricting space into the feeling of imminent danger and the even more abstract emotion of helplessness and terror. 3.4

Weight

In Chełmno the uneven flagstones covering the ground invite one to walk below the memorial to reach the light situated at the opposite end away from the access path. However, half way through the crossing underneath, the visitors realize that several tons of concrete above their heads are supported only on five modest

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pyramids.7 Suddenly the weight of the memorial becomes menacingly immediate. And there is no way to escape its threatening presence. The only way is forward. This bodily interaction with the monument may create a metaphorical link with a situation during the war, when – at some point – the realization of the gravity of the situation could no longer be acted on, as it came too late, and the victims were already too far away from the outside world. 3.5

Tall shafts

Finally, the visitor in Chełmno reaches the area under the monument with a light and a triangular shaft above. The sky and sunlight visible through it bring a relief from the pressure of the heavy concrete structure, but the opening is simultaneously reminiscent of the holes in the ceilings of gas chambers through which gas was released and of crematoria chimneys. In this moment the historical memory of the visitor and the memorial landscape interact most intensely creating an image that is not so much representative of this specific extermination camp, but more of its prototypical exemplar, since in Chełmno there were no gas chambers, but gas trucks and no crematoria but open-air cremation grids. Thus an implant of memory is created (see Golka 2008), which supplants the real historical event it is meant to commemorate with a constructed collectively shared culturally-­ grounded image from the repository of historical symbols. In Radegast, a similar imagery source is used, as the Hall of the Cities, when viewed from outside may look like a small brick building with a broken chimney. Here the traditional Jewish funeral art interacts with the Holocaust imagery as the broken chimney looks like a broken column or a broken tree symbolizing prematurely or/and suddenly ended life. Thus the two images are integrated in the visual blend which motivates the emergent meaning: industrialised death in the Holocaust. When looked at from the inside of the building the chimney offers the view of the blue sky. In both these cases the memorial structure corresponding to the real historical object – metaphorically in Chełmno and metonymically in Radegast – are constructed in places where such objects did not exist. In this way, instead of commemorating the specific event in the time-space, they intertextually connect to the universal Holocaust narrative and through this speak to the photographic images documenting the concentration camps liberation by the Allied armies and to the general knowledge of the atrocities of the Second World War. 7. I also describe these features of the memorial in a different study on negotiating local and global commemoration of World War II (Fabiszak 2016).

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These two representations of the final stage of the extermination referring to one of the most prominent features of the concentration camps – the crematorium chimney – are a recurrent motif in the Holocaust commemoration. It has been employed in several memorials since the 1960s (see Marcuse 2010) and seems to also inspire the Holocaust Tower in the Jewish Museum in Berlin designed by Daniel Libeskind and opened in 2001. In these memorial landscapes the (broken) chimney or a more abstract tall shaft are metonymically motivated within the socio-­historical experiential domain, where the ability to read and understand the artists’ vision crucially depends on the culturally transmitted knowledge of the concentration camps’ photos with the crematorium chimneys. 3.6

Shade and coldness

It is not only the space and the constructed monuments that interact with the visitors in the memorial landscapes, but also the way in which light and warmth are transmitted or restricted by the monuments. In Libeskind’s Holocaust Museum in Berlin the five Voids intersecting the different planes of the building have no heating or air-conditioning and only limited artificial light to represent what cannot be shown or told about the Jewish fate. In the memorials analyzed in the present paper, the same figure is used in different ways. In Chełmno, the space below the memorial, already described in the section on weight, combines several experiential domains to reach the emotional effect. The tactile experience of the uneven walking surface combines with the threat of the weight above the head and with clearly perceptible drop in temperature when on a summer day the visitor walks from glaring sun into the shade below the concrete ceiling. The feeling is enhanced by the contrast in the intensity of light outside and underneath the memorial. In Radegast, in the constricted space of the Tunnel of the Deported the artificial light is limited so when the visitor ventures from the square and into the building the darkness inside creates a barrier – motivated by the primeval fear of darkness – that needs to be overcome before they can enter and discern the transportation lists testifying to the dark history. Only towards the end of the Tunnel, natural light filters through the broken chimney of the Hall of the Cities and its barred entrance. In this dim light, one can read the names of the towns from which the Łódź ghetto deportees came. These experiences of shade and coldness instantiate Langackerian (1987) basic domains of light and temperature, which together with weight (Section 3.4) create the perceptual basis for meaning construction in memorial landscapes. The other landscape features: the gate, rough walks and constricted spaces are all

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related to physical interaction, not just perception, of the environment and are interpreted through the image schema of movement and the related to it path and container. 3.7

Materials

Unlike the statues raised to commemorate the great kings and generals of the 19th century, which were cast in marble and bronze, the analyzed Holocaust memorials are made of granite, concrete, red brick, corrugated iron, industrial slag. The choice of concrete was probably dictated by the sheer size of the monuments as well as by the social realist aesthetics, but it recurs in the 2000s memorials as well. The industrial slag used in Bełżec stands out and thus becomes a marked difference. The waste of the steel-making process, burnt in the furnaces, covers the area of mass graves filled with human ashes from the body-burning stacks. This parallel is imbued with meaning, both protecting and metaphorically exposing the human ashes. It may also capitalize on the association with the industrialised nature of the Holocaust as observed by Bauman (2001).8 Buntman in her reading stresses the unnaturalness of the landscape and of what it hides: The extensive sweep of barren landscape is constructed from carefully selected, irregularly shaped and sized lumps of blast-furnace slag. (…) It stands against nature as it seems saturated with death, imparting a sense of sterility and toxic waste (…) [these] man-made waste materials (…) replicate the man-made horrors that took place in Bełżec.  (2008: 431)

The slag rocks, on a different level of interpretation can also be viewed as symbolic grave stones – similar to those in the Treblinka memorial – their different sizes simultaneously representing the gravestones and the pebbles brought to the cemeteries by the visiting Jews. But the toxic waste is not the traditional gravestone, as it creates what Buntman calls “a sense of sterility”. It maybe a sterility of the extermination site contaminated by the atrocities, which took place here, but it may also be a sterility of memory, where the graves – non-graves speak less of burial and mourning and more of forgetting.9

8. I would like to thank Dr. Tomasz Michalik for this suggestion. 9. Cf. Litoe’s (2006) notion of “seeing nothing” in relation to the Holocaust Absent Dead.

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3.8

Human remains / mass graves

In Chełmno, the original architectural complex includes three rectangular constructions about 130–180 meters long on average 6 meters wide encircled by a wall about two bricks tall that symbolically marks the mass graves. Unfortunately, these places were determined either on the basis of the architect’s vision or inaccurate information so that the archaeological research conducted in 2004 showed that these outlines do not fully coincide with the mass graves. In Majdanek, one of the decisive criteria in selecting the memorial design was its ability to provide shelter and preserve the tons of human ashes from the crematoria (Szlachetka 2009; Olesiuk – Kokowicz 2009). Tołkin’s project with the Mausoleum in the form of a monumental urn answered this need. However, today, when our sensitivities have changed, exposing human ashes to the voyeuristic gaze of the visitors is sometimes questioned.10 In the case of these two memorials from the 1960s, the mass grave and the urn for human ashes played a clear role as evidence of the atrocities and testified to the scale of extermination. A completely different approach was taken in the designing of the new memorial in Bełżec, where the industrial slag covering the entire area of the former extermination site seals the remains of the victims in a gigantic sarcophagus. The only way through this unique cemetery is through the Interstice – the only place where no human remains were found. When surveyed from the top of the slope near the Memorial Wall, darker patches can be discerned in the surface of the area. These mark the exact location of the original mass graves. The sheer scale of these massive burial grounds impresses the visitors with a perception-based understanding of the scale of extermination it represents. 3.9

Keys

On the museum displays in Radegast and Bełżec, one type of very vocal personal belongings is repeated: home keys. As if people leaving their homes and starting their last journey to the extermination camp still hoped that a day would come when they could return and use them to unlock the door to their houses. Most visitors do not carry forks or spoons, also presented on the displays, but they all have their home keys with them. In this way, an everyday object – the keys – creates an additional link between the visitors and the commemorated victims.

10. Cf. the debate between the directors of martyrological museums in Poland and secretary of state in the Ministry of Art and National Heritage in Fabiszak – Owsiński (2013).

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Elements of the memorial landscapes presented in Sections 3.7–3.9 (construction materials, graves, keys) are all grounded in socio-cultural environment to a much greater extent than those from 3.1–3.6. (gate, rough walks, constricted spaces, weight, tall shafts, shade and coldness). It is quite clear, however, that none of these elements can be understood only in their physical or only in their cultural dimension. Blomberg and Zlatev (2013: 416) in their insightful analysis of the linguistic representation of non-actual motion conclude: “…the experiential motivations of non-actual motion sentences can be viewed as sedimented through “passive” processes of acquisition and social transmission and that this implies an interactive loop between experience and language, yielding losses in terms of original experience, but gains in terms of communal signification”. If we apply similar reasoning to the present case study, we may observe that meaning construction in memorial landscape emerges from the interaction of the physical environment and the culturally transmitted knowledge of the narratives of the past. The investigation of the features contributing to the understanding of the memorial discourse strategies can be fruitfully supplemented with such analytic categories as image schemata, metaphor and metonymy. As the discourses of collective memory are inherently multimodal we will continue with a critical discourse analysis of texts integrated into the memorial spaces in the next section. 3.10 The verbal layer Apart form the information boards displayed in the museums integrated into the memorial landscapes or displayed on the sites themselves, in all of the analysed memorials numbers and words create an integral part of the monuments. In Chełmno, on the back face of the memorial the text from a preserved letter written by one of the victims is engraved. It runs: “We were taken, starting with the elderly to the babies from the towns between Koło and Dąbie. We were taken to the woods and there we were gassed and shot and burnt. We ask our future brothers to punish our murderers. The witnesses of our oppression who live nearby we ask to announce this murder to the whole world” (the author’s translation). Some of the letters are written in white, others – those that were missing or illegible on the original letter and reconstructed by the artist – are written in black, as if charred by fire. Here the voice is given to one of the victims – most probably Izaak Siegelman or Ziegelman, one of the members of the Sonderkommando executed a few days before the Red Army reached the camp. The inscription is a call for punishment of the perpetrators and a plea to make the atrocities known to the whole world. It is answered by one word on the front face of the monument: “Pamiętamy” [We remember].



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In Majdanek there are two inscriptions: one on the Gate and one on the Mausoleum. The first one reads: Bohaterom Majdanka, którzy walcząc przeciw hitlerowskiemu ludobójstwu o wolność swych narodów i całej ludzkości, broniąc ideałów człowieczeństwa i godności własnej ponieśli tu śmierć męczeńską. Rada Państwa Polskiej Rzeczypospolitej Ludowej jako wyraz pamięci i hołdu dla ich męczeństwa i walki z faszyzmem nadaje Order Krzyża Grunwaldu 1 klasy. Warszawa 1969 20 września. [For the heroes of Majdanek, who fighting against the Nazi genocide for the freedom of their nations and the whole humankind, defending the ideals of humanity and their own dignity suffered a martyr’s death here. The State Council of the People’s Republic of Poland as an expression of memory and tribute to their martyrdom and the fight against Nazism confers the Order of the Grunwald Cross, First Class. Warsaw 1969, September 20th.]

It is a clear ideological statement reflecting the memorial practices of the time, i.e. stressing the multinational character of the camp inmates and their real or alleged militant resistance against Nazism. At the same time the mention of the State Council of the People’s Republic of Poland and its respect for the martyrs and fighters is meant to stress that this Government is on the right side of the goodand-evil divide and serves as a symbolic means of the legitimisation of its power. The second inscription – on the Mausoleum over the stairs ascending from the Road of Tribute and Memory – is a quote from a poem Żałoba [Mourning] written by a Polish writer Franciszek Fenikowski, which runs: “Los nasz dla was przestrogą” [Our fate is your warning]. This verse clearly links the life and death of Majdanek inmates with the life and future of today visitors. In Bełżec, similarly to Chełmno, a text written by the victim – Dan Pagis – in a sealed cargo carriage is engraved at the end of the symbolic ramp by a stack of rail tracks and sleepers reminiscent of body-burning stacks. It reads: “Here in this carload/ I, Eve/ with my son Abel./ If you see my older boy,/ Cain, the son of man,/ tell him that I”. This text illustrates both the universal dimension – through the reference to the Biblical motif – and the very personal – the call of a mother on her way to death, leading her younger son for slaughter by the older one. The broken syntax of these lines additionally strengthens the effect, the feeling that the world around is falling to pieces, beyond words, beyond despair. Unlike in Chełmno and Majdanek, the poem is written in three languages: Hebrew, English and Polish (in this order) clearly indicating that unlike the memorials erected in the 1960s, the 2004 redesign of the Bełżec memorial is primarily addressed not to the Poles, but to the Jews, both from Israel and from the USA. The second inscription in Bełżec is engraved on the Memorial Wall at the end of the Interstice. It is a quote from the Book of Job cited already in the general

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description of the memorials. This quotation from the Hebrew Bible stresses the uniquely Jewish character of the monument, which is dedicated solely to their memory. The vertical traces in the wall are reminiscent of the scratches made by the victims on the gas chamber walls who clawed to get on top of the others in search of the air to breathe. Buntman (2008: 433) interprets these as “evocative of tears, of weeping, and/or spilling blood” linking the vertical lines with the words from Job: “Earth, do not cover my blood…” In this way, the verbal and the visual modes interact and strengthen the impact on the visitor. Another type of text integrated into the memorials are names and numbers. In Radegast, the enclosure around the railway station separating it from the private buildings across the street in the far end takes the form of massive matzevah stones with the names of the concentration camps to which the Jews from the Łódź ghetto were transported. The outer and inner walls of the Tunnel of the Deported have various important dates engraved on them in Gothic style: the ascend of Nazis to power, the outbreak of the Second World War, the Wansee Conference and others. On the walls in the Hall of the Cities at the end of the Tunnel, the names of villages, towns and cities from which Jews were deported to Łódź are listed. Similarly, the names of the places of origin in their original language and in Hebrew are written on the walk on the circumference of the memorial ground in Bełżec. The names of the individual victims appear on the original transport lists in the museum building and in the Tunnel in Radegast. The first names of the victims are alphabetically listed on the wall in the symbolic Ohel in Bełżec. The use of place names of origins of the victims and of the concentration camps are a recognized trait of what Marcuse (2010: 68) calls the genre of the Holocaust memorials and describes in the following words: “Collecting soil from multiple Holocaust sites and/or listing their names as a way to signify the entire event is common in Holocaust memorials not situated at historic locations. It effectively reverses the national principle of enumerating the victims countries of origin, which is found at the memorials at Holocaust sites themselves”. It is necessary to stress here that the use of personal names is a very new phenomenon, developed in the 2000s, when the granularity of vision changed and focused on the individual victims also in the monumental memorial representations. Another testimony to this new trend is the Hall of Names in the museum in the former concentration camp in Mauthausen, where all the names of the inmates, who died there, are alphabetically listed on the black glass panes in one of the exhibition rooms.



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3.11 Founders While all the texts integrated into the analyzed Holocaust memorials function both as tributes to the dead and as a link to their experience, they may also be approached critically as testimonies to ideological choices of the time when the memorials were created. The plaque on the Majdanek’s Gate, as indicated above, illustrates this double meaning by both honouring the dead and legitimizing the government. In Bełżec, a modest plaque on a side wall of the museum in the corner of the reception hall reads: “The Government of Poland and the American Jewish Committee gratefully acknowledge the support of private individuals and foundations: …” A list of these foundations and individuals follows and indeed it is the most inconspicuous way to thank the people and institutions, who supported the project. A very different impression is created by the number of plaques on the wall of the Radegast station memorial, where it seems that the place is as much meant to commemorate the victims of the Łódź ghetto as it is to commemorate all the politicians, city and country leaders’ visits to the memorial. It brings to mind Michalic’s (2012) analysis of the transformation of the Polish commemoration of the Holocaust, which she considers the most advanced in Eastern Europe, but at the same time falling into one of the three discourse patterns: (1) remembering to remember, (2) remembering to benefit and (3) remembering to forget. The first one is a reflection of the globalization of the Holocaust memory and can serve as testimony to Poland’s joining the global community in creating the ‘community of identification’ and an empathetic bond with the Other – the Jews (also Levy & Sznaider 2002 on the cosmopolitization of the global memory). The second pattern – remembering to benefit – is designed to help Poland gain international recognition in the family of modern nation states. Indeed, this seems to have been a strong motivation behind the plaques commemorating the politicians’ visits to Radegast. The third pattern rejects the need for revision of Polish – Jewish relations during the Second World War and denies the necessity of continuing the old and starting new forms of commemoration of this traumatic past. 4. The meaning of the recurrent features of the memorial landscape Gross (2006) analyzes the Jewish Museum in Berlin (JWB) and the Berlin Holocaust Memorial (BHM) and points to the similarity between Libeskind’s Garden of Exile at JWB and the concrete blocks of the Eisenman’s BHM. He emphasizes that in both cases “individual feelings of discomfort become the index of universal significance, a point of identification with the victims and a point of commonality with other visitors” (p. 89). He claims that this type of space design in Holocaust

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memorials is characteristic for those, which were inspired by the architecture of the Washington US Holocaust Memorial Museum and is a sign of the Americanization of the Holocaust commemoration. I hope to have shown above, that many of the features causing physical menace to the visitors were present already in the designs from the 1960s. I share this view with Marcuse (2010) who claims that already in the 1950s the memorials were becoming experiential spaces, and gives the descending ramp at Dachau as a typical example from the 1960s. This indicates that certain design strategies recur in the memorials regardless of the memorials socio-political and historical situatedness, as they originate in the bodily experience of space, light and temperature. As the present study shows, features of memorial landscapes such as gates, rough walking surfaces, constricted spaces, and tall shafts demand active participation from the audience. Their bodily experience of movement through the memorial landscape is made meaningful through such image schemata like container, containment, path and scale, which are further complemented by the perceptions of light, coldness and weight, all three of which may be considered basic domains of human bodily experience in the sense of Langacker (1987: 148). All of these operate via such metaphors as being excluded from the society is being inside a constricted space, mental effort (of creating the empathetic link with the experience of the other) is physical effort (of walking on uneven surfaces and in menacing environments), and threat is limiting one’s movement. The physical features of paths, or rather how their embodied experience influences the metaphorical imagery related to paths and roads is investigated in Johansson-Falck and Gibbs (2012). They show that the bodily interaction with the artefacts in question leads to the emergence of mental imagery facilitating embodied simulation of how paths and roads may be used, which, in turn, motivates systematic metaphorical mappings used in understanding more abstract concepts. The claim of the present paper is that the bodily interaction of the visitors with the memorial landscapes provides them with a specific type of embodied experience – that of a physical effort in an increasingly more hostile environment – which informs their understanding of the commemorative discursive strategies shaping the memorial sites. The cognitive processes underlying this understanding can be investigated in terms of image schemata and metaphorical conceptualisation. As both these types of conceptualisations emerge from an intense involvement with the memorial space, they can serve as a means to mediate the social meanings embedded in collective memory. They are further strengthened by the verbal layer of the memorials, which – via personal names, geographical names and dates – metonymically connect both to the autobiographical memory, when the visitors can relate to places or names from their own life, and to the historical memory when dates and place names,



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in particular names of the concentration camps, metonymically link specific memorials to the general knowledge of the historical events. This interplay of multimodal discourses creates a unique commemoration experience necessary for the cultural transmission of values and beliefs.

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Part III

Cross-linguistic (English–Spanish) perspectives

Exploring specific differences A cross-linguistic study of English and Spanish civil engineering metaphors Ana Roldán-Riejos

Universidad Politécnica de Madrid

This chapter provides a cross-linguistic and multimodal study of some civil engineering zoomorphic metaphors in English and Spanish within a socio-cognitive and multimodal approach. This study thus aims to examine the interaction of multimodal (linguistic and visual) metaphoric and metonymic mappings (Forceville 2009, 2010) in some civil engineering zoomorphic examples. Principles from discourse analysis are applied (Semino 2008; Deignan 2005) by using contextualized and corpora-driven data. The results reveal lop-sided layers of metaphoricity merged with interacting metonymic patterns. In the cross-­ linguistic analysis, significant variations appear between English and Spanish which may respond to lexical aspects of meaning construction patterns as well as sociocultural differences (Kövecses 2008). Keywords: technical language analysis, linguistic/visual metaphor and metonymy, cross-linguistic study, engineering communication

1. Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to present a cross-linguistic analysis of a group of civil engineering zoomorphic metaphors in English and Spanish focusing on the conflation of visual and verbal mappings. The metaphors are divided into two groups: (1) engineering English terms referring to animal names (dogs, dolphins, crocodiles, etc.) and (2) engineering Spanish terms that refer to parts of animal bodies, like garra ‘claw’, pluma ‘feather’, ala ‘wing’ or uña ‘nail’. In all cases, mappings characterise the animal’s shape, size, movement or any other salient zoomorphic characteristic. The examples included were extracted from corpora and then individually analysed to provide “textual manifestations of metaphor” (Semino 2008: 10). They can also be labelled as “discourse metaphors” in the sense doi 10.1075/pbns.262.08rol © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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discussed by Zinken et al. (2008), as they are culturally situated and function as a framing device within a specific discourse community (see below). In Fairclough’s words (2013: 85): “Social events (and texts) are shaped on the one hand by social practices and social structures and on the other hand by social agents”. Most of the instances selected in this chapter relate to engineering machines or tools that are linguistically and visually mapped as parts of animals or framing any zoomorphic characteristic. The analysis indicates the presence of metonymy and metaphor or rather of a metaphoric-metonymic continuum that facilitates the activation of specific areas of the source domain (Villacañas & White 2013). Accordingly, this study reaffirms the binary action of metonymy and metaphor (Ruiz de Mendoza & Díez Velasco 2002) as a way to construct meaning, in this case of civil engineering (CE hereafter). Whilst technical metaphor may gradually become entrenched and remain unnoticed for its users (Semino 2008), the presence of metaphorical mappings that serve to construct meaning and specific lexis can be easily tracked (Caballero 2014). I have pointed out elsewhere that visuals seem to constitute a major mode of communication in CE (Roldán-­Riejos 2013; Roldán-Riejos & Úbeda 2013). Similarly, in architecture genres verbal language appears in combination with images (Caballero 2003, 2014; Úbeda 2002). By the same token, the present study intends to underline the interaction of visual and verbal metaphoric mappings in CE discourse. Applying relevance theory, Yus (2009: 158) shortens the distance between verbal and visual metaphor by designating a mental operation that serves to process both, which he calls “conceptual upload”. Visual and verbal mappings become conceptually integrated in such a way that multiple inputs or spaces eventually produce an emerging blended space (St. Clair 2002). In blends, metaphoric and metonymic mappings (textual and visual) interact, combine and fuse producing new compressed meaning and new constructs (Fauconnier & Turner 2002). A good example of this interaction is that of the crocodile pavement, in which the visual pattern of tracks made on a road surface represents the fusion of this image with the marks of a crocodile’s skin. It is usually pointed out from the CE specific area the need to intertwine pictures and words as part of CE expertise, since this represents an important skill that needs to be mastered (ASCE 2007). Accordingly, I stress the need to pay attention to visuals to attain a full picture of CE communication in which both visual and verbal perceptual modes are likely to interact. Verbal metaphor conceptually merges with image metaphor by the activation of mental images (Alonso Belmonte et al. 2013), and in turn images (metonymic or metaphoric) presuppose a lexical counterpart. Forceville and Urios-­Aparisi’s model on multimodal metaphor (2009: 4) differentiates between monomodal and multimodal metaphor. In multimodal metaphor source and target domains “are rendered

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exclusively or predominately in two different modes/modalities (…) and in many cases the verbal is one of these”. Another point Forceville and Urios-Aparisi put forward (2009: 6) is the fact that multimodal metaphors “are not only embodied but also governed by the cultural or professional community in which they function”. In this chapter, I apply these principles and hypothesise that zoomorphic mappings operate conjointly in the visual and the written sign modes, as will be discussed below. Likewise, I argue that the characteristics of the CE discourse community have an influence on the metaphoric and metonymic mappings they use and vice versa. To summarize the sections below, I begin by highlighting some characteristics of the CE discourse community. Next, I will illustrate the adopted metaphor-in-­discourse method and give details about corpora extraction and the way generic metaphorical conceptual mappings were identified. I will also look at the conflation of verbal and visual metaphors illustrating this point with examples. Finally, in the cross-­ linguistic analysis, I will detail the various mappings that are expressed in both languages and build on the metonymic and metaphoric projections represented. 2. Theoretical framework 2.1

The CE discourse community

In this section I will point out some characteristics of civil engineering discourse and their relationship with various specific societal and social aspects of this group. Firstly, it is important to mention that research in engineering social factors is included as part of discourse analysis within the scope of LSP (Languages for Specific Purposes). A major way to undertake this type of study involves the application of needs analysis. Needs analysis customarily includes the design of sociological surveys to obtain data about the specific academic or professional situation where discourse and its users pertain. More recently, engineering studies tend to lean towards the theoretical framework of Genre Analysis (Durán 1999; Kanoksilapatham 2011; Molina 2012; Poveda 2010; Roldán 2004). Genre analysis stresses the intertwining relation between discourse communities and linguistic uses, linking social analysis to particular contexts and particular users to specific scenarios (Bhatia 1993; Swales 1990). Accordingly, discourse cannot be dissociated from social context and their respective communities and genres represent different types of social interaction (Hyland 2006: 386). Swales (2011: 471–473) has proposed a set of criteria to define membership in a discourse community:

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1. A discourse community has a broadly agreed set of common public goals. 2. A discourse community has mechanisms of intercommunication among its members. 3. A discourse community uses its participatory mechanisms primarily to provide information and feedback. 4. A discourse community utilizes and hence possesses one or more genres in the communicative furtherance of its aims. 5. In addition to owning genres, a discourse community has acquired a specific lexis. 6. A discourse community has a threshold level of members with a suitable degree of relevant content and discoursal expertise. These criteria find due correspondence in the CE field as shown in Table 1. To the former, I would add an important characteristic of the CE community, i.e. the group’s compliance with the professional guidelines set by their recognized institutions.1 On the other hand, it is necessary to underline the increasing interest of Cognitive Linguistics to explore technical discourse (Lakoff & Nuñez 2000) could be Table 1.  CE discourse community characteristics based on Swales (2011) Swales’ criteria to define discourse community

Characteristics of CE discourse community

1. Agreed set of common public goals

To build public works such as bridges, tunnels, dams, highways, skyscrapers, etc. in a given environment

2. Mechanisms of communication among members

Meetings, Procedures, Conferences, official statements

3. Provides information and feedback through these mechanisms

Instructing and monitoring professional issues

4. Utilizes and possesses one or more genres to further its aims

Technical and lab reports, technical manuals, research journal articles, technical summaries and abstracts, case studies, instructions, etc.

5. Has a specific lexis (vocabulary, etc.)

Metaphors, conventionalized jargon, mathematical formulae, visuals, etc.

6. A level of members-apprentices enter, experts leave (eventually)

Academic setting: students, lecturers; Professional setting: interns, junior engineers, senior engineers

1. Institutions such as Colegio Oficial de Ingenieros de Caminos in Spain or The Institution of Civil Engineers in the U.K.

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a good example. Cognitive Linguistics claims that human thought and language are grounded in world experience and world interaction, accordingly discourse is a product of cognition and of social interaction. The application of a cognitive approach to engineering communication has led to the identification of metaphors and metonymies typical of engineering discourse (Robisco & Cuadrado 2013, in aeronautical engineering; Roldán & Úbeda 2006, 2013, in CE and architecture; Cuadrado et al. 2016, in a variety of engineering branches). Almost two decades ago, Ungerer and Schmid (1996: 149) discussed the constitutive vs. the explanatory role of metaphorical mappings in physics (the atom is a (miniature) solar system) and computing science (a computer virus is a biological virus). They concluded that scientific or technological metaphors can be constitutive (i.e. inherent to the expertise it expresses) or explanatory (i.e. illustrative for non-­experts) depending on discourse community usage. In the case of physics, the metaphor seems to be constitutive to scientific theory and explanatory to non-­specialists. The computing mapping would be both explanatory for the lay computer user and constitutive because of the usefulness of the “malfunction” mapping to frame new concepts. 2.2

Socio-cognitive aspects in CE discourse

This section focuses on important socio-cognitive traits of the CE professional group that could have an influence on specific metaphoric mappings. As Ponderotto (2003: 288) claims: “When dealing with discourse, we find ourselves in an interdisciplinary camp which involves not only language, but also action, meaning, cognition and social structures”. The development of CE took place in the 18th century, a period that landmarked the switch to new construction materials like iron and steel, more versatile than stone. The new materials were used to build bridges and large industrial buildings. Large public works were designed, such as ports, dams, tunnels, railway tracks, highways and channelling structures. In engineering discourse, not only arithmetic calculations, mathematical formulae, and specific jargon, lexical units derived from metaphoric mappings can be identified. This chapter illustrates some of those mappings and terms attempting to show how they are related to cognitive and social patterns of engineering practice and serve to construct new meaning. There is a recurring metaphor that underlies a significant amount of CE expressions: an engineering structure is a living being. The historical origin of this mapping seems to relate to the Romans’ construction methods, for example the architect Vitruvius planned city design taking the proportions of the human body as a reference. Seemingly, they served as a model to build temples

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and buildings. In later centuries, Leonardo da Vinci took human anatomy as a measure for the design of cities and engineering structures and represented this in his portrait of “Vitruvius’s man”. The main purpose of CE is designing and building large structures that have to be inserted in a suitable environment. In this sense, the built structure is understood as a living being, whose behaviour and reactions must be studied and calculated. Hence, the mapping engineering structures are human beings leads to new sub-mappings related to the conditions and subsequent problems that may affect the building structure and the engineer’s work, for example engineering works are therapies/engineers are doctors. All these analogies lend a major source of vocabulary to the CE lexical repertoire. A productive metaphoric sub-mapping emerging from this conceptualization is the therapeutic one, very rich in concurrent linguistic expressions, for example: fatigue, pathology, stress, strain, collapse, etc. They have counterparts in Spanish: patología, fatiga, fisura, fractura, colapso. Other major source domains for CE mappings are: Human Anatomy, Medicine, Zoology, Sociology (collective behaviour), or Cooking (Cuadrado et al. 2016). My purpose here is not to imply that engineering discourse is shaped by these types of mappings, but that it is partly motivated (Caballero 2014). Although English and Spanish CE communities share a large part of the above-­mentioned socio-cognitive traits common to them as part of the western culture, there are certain features that specifically pertain to each country. Hence, differences are likely to appear in the conceptual and linguistic structure that they use. To shed light on this, I aim to provide linguistic data that differentiate metaphoric linguistic production in both languages. Firstly, it is important to establish that CE discourse borrows from different disciplines. Johnston, Lee and McGregor (1996: 4) have claimed the necessity to articulate and define the various sources of

management

environmental studies Engineering science

politics and development

sociology

Figure 1.  Disciplines from which civil engineering tends to borrow discourse (based on Johnston, Lee & McGregor 1996)

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engineering discourse embedded within the dominant structuring frame of engineering science discourse. Some of these sources are shown in Figure 1. 2.3

Multimodal (verbal-visual) perspective

As mentioned above, metaphoric mappings happen to be a source of lexis and of meaning creation in CE. At the same time, the discursive and cognitive worlds of CE recurrently blend the verbal and visual modalities. Because of this, it makes sense to examine the pictorial representations of the zoomorphic metaphors that are included here and therein to pose a multimodal perspective. Lakoff refers to image-­metaphor as “one-shot metaphor”, “mapping one image onto another” (Lakoff 1993: 227) mainly focusing on written examples used from poetry. On the other hand, Forceville (2009, 2010) has proved that metaphor is a cognitive tool that operates in non-verbal modes of communication, e.g. visual, aural or gestural, and more importantly, that metaphor can occur in various modes simultaneously. Forceville (2010: 61) proposes three broad criteria to identify multimodal metaphor: (1) An identity relation between two phenomena belonging to different categories (in CE zoomorphic metaphor the identity relation would be the association between the engineering machine/tool and the characterization of a similar or associated feature in the animal imagery). (2) The two phenomena are understood as target and source respectively and are not contextually reversible. (3) At least one characteristic associated with the source domain is to be mapped on to the target domain. The visual observation of these two examples (see Figure 2) of CE zoomorphic visual and verbal metaphors in Spanish can lead us to establish an association between the visual and verbal metaphor as well as a relationship between metaphor and metonymy. Figure 2a represents a mechanic cat – gato hidráulico (‘hydraulic jack’); Figure 2b depicts a caterpillar – excavadora oruga (‘excavating caterpillar’). Both

Figure 2.  Images of (a) gato hidráulico ‘hydraulic jack’ (b) oruga excavadora ‘excavating caterpillar’

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examples show an interaction of the visual and verbal modes, although the verbal metaphor in both languages is present only in (b). In (a) the visual metaphoric identity is based on the raising motion of the machine that resembles a cat’s shape when arching its back and, on the other hand, the analogy with the animal’s shape is metonymically projected by inferring the way in which the machine operates (cause-effect relation). In Figure 2b the example illustrates a dual analogy encapsulated in two visual metonymic mappings: (1) the elongated shapes of both the machine and the insect (part-whole) and (2) the crawling action of both to move on the ground, which represents a metonymy working within a metaphor. 3. Methodology Following a cross-linguistic and discourse-related approach, this study aims to identify similarities and differences between animal-related English and Spanish CE metaphorical expressions. The data come from contextual instances in authentic texts. The sources belong to different CE genres: journals, handbooks, reports, and specialised dictionaries and corpora (Kanoksilapatham 2011). These genres comprise both verbal and visual material. Expert advice from academic engineers was asked to match them. As mentioned above, the specialty of CE entails various scientific technical areas with a number of subfields. Among these are hydraulics, building materials, transportation, concrete, ports, highways, soil mechanics, etc. As a result, documentation from separate areas would fall short to list its complexity. In fact, owing to its multidisciplinary content, the study of the CE linguistic repertoire would require a huge amount of data from all its individual branches. Such a task would exceed the limits of this chapter. Despite this, a representative sample of corpora was extracted from research articles, as explained below. For this task, I also examined contextual material from other CE genres like technical handbooks, databases, case studies, reports, and electronic files. Initially, to elicit the most frequent CE linguistic metaphors two corpora were compiled in English: – Corpus A: consisting of 15 research articles extracted from five different civil engineering journals.2 They contain over 74,157 word tokens spanning the years 2013–2014. As a corpus analysis toolkit, I used the freeware program ANTCORD that provides concordances, keyword index and collocates. 2. The English journals used in the CE corpus were: Advances in Civil Engineering, Journal of Civil Engineering Construction, International Journal of Pavement Engineering, Open Journal of Civil Engineering, Journal of Tunnelling and Underground Space Technology.



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– Corpus B: from the online Hong Kong Engineering Corpus (HKEC) provided by Hong Kong Polytechnic University including 224,384 words. This corpus offers concordances, collocational clues and original texts. Since the main trend of the cross-linguistic study goes from English to Spanish, the compilation of Spanish-English material was considered complementary. Also, very few journals are originally printed in Spanish and those available are published in both languages. The journals that were published only in Spanish did not allow the conversion of their content into manageable corpora. Notwithstanding this, a shorter Spanish corpus was manually obtained to compare the metaphorical mappings in both languages. This was taken from civil engineering research articles published in various journals.3 The number of word tokens amount to 83,553. Further data were extracted from the Bilingual Spanish-­English and English-Spanish Dictionary of scientific-technical metaphors and metonymies. Engineering, Architecture and Physical Activities Sciences (Cuadrado et al. 2016), which contains engineering metaphors from different engineering fields and from other technical dictionaries (for instance Putnan & Carlsson 1988). The data obtained from the corpora relate mainly to the ontological metaphor the engineering structure is a living being, and seem to reflect similar linguistic realisations in English and Spanish. However, the zoomorphic linguistic metaphors that characterise the engineering mechanisms included in this study present more cross-linguistic variations, as we will see. The specific mappings can be formulated as engineering parts are animal parts/engineering tools are animals/engineering machines are animals and cross-linguistic variance could respond to cultural levels of specificity, having been designated as “specific-­level metaphors” (Kövecses 2008: 55). The linguistic and visual metaphors have been separated into two groups: (1) English CE terms referred to animal names: mole, dog, crab, crocodile, butterfly, frog, bull, ram, pony and dolphin and (2) Spanish CE terms related to animal parts: pluma ‘feather’, garra ‘claw’, uña ‘nail’, ala ‘wing’, cresta ‘crest’. Despite their diversity, some of the animals represented in English can be considered domestic or somehow friendly to humans, e.g. dog, pony, ram, dolphin. Others instantiate a salient physical or behavioural characteristic: e.g. the shape of a butterfly’s wings, the heavy and clumsy nature of a bull, the legs like hooks of a crab, or the leaping movement of a frog. In the case of crocodile, its jagged skin is what we find characterised, and in moles, it is their habit of digging horizontally.

3. Revista Ingeniería de Construcción (2013); Revista de materiales de Construcción (2013); Revista de Ingeniería Hidráulica y Ambiental (2013–14) and Revista de Construcción (2013).

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An important characteristic common to the linguistic metaphors in this study is that they tend to appear in groups or clusters, consisting of two or more words. These groups are usually denominated collocations. Collocations have been defined as lexical association (Biber at al. 2000) and as two words “in a binary relationship” (Williams 2001: 63). Collocation patterns are pairings or lexical clusters that tend to co-occur together, each part usually reinforcing the meaning of the whole set, designated by Williams (2001: 68) “collocational network”. As Halliday (1994) claimed, collocations can be textually cohesive and each discourse community tends to develop specific ones. In the examples analysed in this study collocates function holistically and the metaphoric load is evenly distributed. Corpora driven data have been helpful in this respect allowing the extraction of cluster and collocation examples that are both quantitatively and qualitatively reliable. For example, in the collocate crocodile cracking, the image of a crocodile skin triggers the image of the cracking appearance of road pavement, in such a way that a link is created between both surfaces, the animal’s ragged one and the damaged pavement. On the other hand, as far as the CE Spanish metaphors are concerned, instead of strictly collocates, we could speak of clusters of lexical units that tend to appear together and thus work as a chunk. Since the examples incorporate a defining contextual characteristic, they could be referred to as joint expressions. This is exemplified in Tables 2 and 3 in Section 5. 4. Zoomorphic visual and verbal metaphors This section illustrates the non-linguistic nature of CE metaphorical mappings reflected in the visual representations of some zoomorphic examples. At the same time, these mappings co-exist with linguistic metaphor, hence their multimodal nature. In the first group, CE examples referring to animal names taken from English are described, followed by the analysis of animal parts from Spanish. The general metaphorical mappings would correspond to: an engineering tool/ machine is an animal in the first group: English into Spanish and a part of an engineering machine/tool is part of an animal’s anatomy in the second group: Spanish into English. 4.1

Examples from English into Spanish

In example (1): crocodile cracking pavement, the parched crocodile skin triggers the target image because of a resemblance relation (i.e. the roughness of the pavement surface). A similar mechanism happens in a butterfly’s shape, or in the image of a frog leaping, evoking a type of device or machine. In other words, the



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Figure 3.  Crocodile cracking pavement

verbal metaphor activates a visual image, encapsulated in a graphic conceptualization that represents the object (perceptual resemblance) thus making comprehension possible. An engineer can evoke the image of this pavement which sets off a series of mental operations leading to its interpretation. In crocodile cracking apart from the evoked visual image and the written sign, a third perceptual mode about the tactile/touch sense can be inferred. This comes from the knowledge of touching a rough surface shown in Figure 3. Metaphors of this type can exemplify the conflation of more than one mode (visual and verbal) in the source or target domains (Forceville 2009). Crocodile cracking represents in CE a metaphorical blend and consists of a new space emerging from the fusion of different inputs: (a) analogy between two elements: cracked pavement and crocodile’s rough hide and (b) activating knowledge about defective pavement (Fauconnier & Turner 2002). The blend has its own entity beyond the metaphor cracked pavement is crocodile’ skin and synesthetically involves two corporal senses (sight and touch). Moreover, the metaphor in the source domain is metonymically related to the target and includes a cause/effect relational pattern: the interlocked shape of the pavement resembles a crocodile, a dangerous animal, and the defective state of the pavement could be dangerous for traffic as it is the first stage of pothole forming. This reaffirms the expected contiguity from the source to the target (Forceville & Urios-­Aparisi 2009: 13) as well as the interaction between metaphor and metonymy and their likely co-occurrence (Barcelona & Soriano 2002). Example (2), illustrated in Figure 4, is a mole machine and consists of a tunnel-­boring machine capable of advancing and building a tunnel underground or under the sea through sand, hard and soft rock. The metaphorical resemblance to the small mammal that burrows the earth is based on their underground digging ability and the metaphor can be rendered as an excavating machine is a mole. This ability is metonymically mapped onto the target domain. Interestingly,

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Figure 4.  A mole machine

Figure 5.  Lifting dogs

this metaphor has created associated language, for example the front part of the machine that cuts into rock is called the cutting-head and the back part is called the tail. Example (3), lifting dogs represented in Figure 5, corresponds to a type of lifting gear equipment used in construction to grasp and lift heavy objects. It consists of hooks for lifting single or multiple sheets of metal as well as other loads of up to 6 tonnes. Again metonymic and metaphoric mappings are merged, as the target hooks resembles the source dog’s claws, so the metaphor a machine is a dog and the metonymic mapping part–whole are merged. Lexical items like the jaws to grip and lock the objects that are to be lifted also contribute to the mapping. Example (4), pony truss bridge, consists of two trusses spanning a bridge which is particularly low so that overhead bracing cannot be used. In this case the feature mapped is the lack of height in the bridge, as the top chords are not joined together, hence the inferred metonymic part/whole mapping and the metaphor a bridge is a pony. This is represented in Figure 6.



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Figure 6.  A pony truss bridge

Figure 7.  A butterfly valve

Example (5) is butterfly valve, illustrated in Figure 7. A butterfly valve is a valve in a pipe used to regulate flow. The closing mechanism takes the form of a disk. The valve plate pivots around a diameter of two semi-circular plates hinged on a common spindle. The wings of a butterfly resemble the shape of this mechanism as well as the way it operates. The metaphor can be verbalized as a valve is a butterfly. At the same time the movement of the wings metonymically stands for the opening or closing action of the valve. Example (6), bull float, shown in Figure 8, consists of a tool used to flatten fresh concrete during the finishing stage and has two parts, a rectangular blade (the float) and a large attached handle. The resemblance with a bull comes out of its rather large size and because it is clumsy to operate. The metonymic features mapped are part/whole (size) and cause/effect (behaviour). Example (7) is a dolphin structure, which is a frame consisting of a number of piles driven into the seabed or river bed in a circular pattern and drawn together

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Figure 8.  A bull float

Figure 9.  A dolphin structure

with wire rope. It may be used as protection of a dock structure or as a minor aid to navigation. They can be either breasting dolphins or mooring dolphins. In this example represented in Figure 9 the resemblance between both elements frames the aquatic nature in both (animal and structure) as well as the transposition of



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Figure 10.  A crab crane

Figure 11.  A frog rammer

being friendly to humans and the fact that the structure is used as protection and as an aid to navigation. The metaphorical mapping could be expressed as a dock structure is a dolphin. Example (8), crab crane, represents the travelling hoist of an overhead crane. The mapped feature is a part/whole metonymic relationship: the shape of the device and the resemblance to a crab’s legs and the fact that it moves sideways like a crab, as shown in Figure 10. The metaphor could be formulated as a lifting crane is a crab. Example (9) frog rammer, illustrated in Figure 11, is a small compactor for earth and road construction. It operates by means of the impact pressure of an engine-­driven rammer that works by repeatedly lifting clear of the ground to drop back. The associated metaphorical mapping lies in the way this machine works by jumping forward, resembling how a frog leaps. This type of motion is perspectivised and metonymically projected.

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Figure 12.  A hydraulic ram

Lastly, example (10) a hydraulic ram, is an automatic pump that uses the kinetic energy of flowing water to force a small fraction of that water to a reservoir at a higher level. It is represented in Figure 12. A metonymic transposition characterises the force of the pump associated with the force of a ram (male of the sheep and allied animals) when charging. The metaphor would read: a mechanical pump is a ram. To sum up, the zoomorphic quality of the English verbal metaphors does not appear to have a similar cross-linguistic correspondence in Spanish. For example, though the Spanish definition of dolphin structure also stands for a type of framework used as a protection for ships in harbours, it is linguistically conveyed differently as duque de alba, ‘duke of alba’. The origin of this expression is unclear. Its French counterpart duc d’albe, and in German Dückdalbe (or less common, Duckdalbe), is generally used in plural: Dückdalben. Its root could come from Dutch where duiken means “to submerge”. But it could also be related to a 16th century Spanish general renowned as the Duke of Alba. Therefore, the linguistic defence or protection mapping would not match and this is likely to respond to cultural or historical reasons. As Forceville (2009: 10) states: “Indeed, the cultural connotations that are metonymically related to a source domain are often more important for potential mappings to a target than its embodied aspects”. 4.2

Spanish into English examples

The five Spanish examples that follow are related to animal parts, the fact that the examples represent partial mappings of an animal, i.e. an animal’s part, could be a sign of metonymic projections on metaphor. Example (1) represents cresta de presa (CE Eng. ‘crown’) and defines the highest part of a dam that contains a gate to maintain or lower the water level as shown in Figure 13. It could be argued that this metaphor is wider as in the crest of a mountain, however this expression sounds rare in Spanish, being frequently substituted by cima or cúspide (‘summit/peak’). The Spanish metaphor would be



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Figure 13.  Cresta de presa (CE Eng. ‘crown’)

Figure 14.  Garra de fijación (CE Eng. ‘yoke’)

formulated as: la parte superior de una presa es una cresta, whereas in English the metaphor would run: the top of a dam is a crown. The crest of certain birds, situated at the top part of their head, could have a thermal regulating function and serves as a source domain for this specific part of a dam. The mapping also shares the function to regulate water level. Its CE English counterpart ‘crown’ activates another metaphorical mapping, although the characteristic of this ornament worn or covering the top part of the head is similar. Example (2), shown in Figure 14, represents garra (claw) de fijación (CE Eng. ‘yoke’). It consists of a quick-release clamp wedged around column formwork to provide support during concreting. The metonymic mapping specifically frames the fixing power of the tool and its supportive or balancing function. This is metaphorically paralleled with an animal’s foot. Its equivalent in English, ‘yoke’, only maps the ability of this tool to hold two parts together (metonymy), although the parallel U shape is visually kept. The metaphor would run: las grapas del encofrado son garras ‘the clamps are claws’.

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Figure 15.  Uña de sujeción (CE Eng. ‘feather’)

Figure 16.  Ala de viga (CE Eng. ‘flange’)

Example (3), represented in Figure 15, is uña (nail) de sujeción (CE Eng. ‘feather/spline’) and refers to a fitting and joining metonymic function. It is a long thin strip of wood or metal which is inserted in a slot formed by two members, each of which is grooved. The zoomorphic analogy seems clear both verbally and visually. The metaphor would read: las piezas de sujeción son uñas ‘the metallic strips are nails’. Conversely, the mapping in English, feather, is a different metaphoric correspondence. Spanish example (4) is ala (‘wing’) de viga (CE Eng. ‘flange’), shown in Figure  16. It represents the top and bottom plates projecting in a beam. They are



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Figure 17.  Pluma de grúa (CE Eng. ‘boom’)

connected by a vertical plate named web usually having I or H shape. The metaphorical and metonymic visual correspondences mapping the shape of this element are apparent. The mapping would be: los lados de una viga son alas ‘the sides of a beam are wings’. In English the metaphorical mapping is not kept, only the projecting metonymic part. Finally, example (5), which is illustrated in Figure 17, is pluma ‘feather’ de grúa (CE Eng. ‘boom’) the function of lifting objects appears metonymically projected in the visual metaphor. The device refers to the lifting beam or pole like structure of a crane. The English counterpart boom prompts nautical associations related to lift and lower objects for loading and unloading purposes. The metaphor could be formulated as las vigas de una grua son plumas ‘crane beams are feathers’. 5. Cross-linguistic analysis and results As mentioned above, CE comprises a multidisciplinary sum of scientific branches that can be identified through their lexical repertoire. In this study, subfields like Road construction, Tunnelling, Dams, Construction, Structures, Hydraulics or Concrete are present in the examples both in English and Spanish. The English collocations along with the CE subfield they pertain are shown in Table 2. Table 3 includes the Spanish joint expressions and their CE English correspondences along with the subfields to which they belong. Although the cultural background for conceptual engineering metaphoric mappings in English and Spanish is not too different, this study shows that variations do exist in verbal metaphor and they are likely to respond to different configurations of source mappings, and eventually to socio-cultural reasons (Kövecses 2008; Mussolff 2012). The collected data suggest that the names of animals referred to CE terms are more common in English (more than 50% in

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Table 2.  Collocations of the English sample and their corresponding CE subfields English collocations (a) (b) (c) (d) (e) (f) (g) (h) (i) (h)

CE subfield

Crocodile cracking Mole machine Lifting dogs Pony truss (bridge) Butterfly valve Bull float Dolphin structure Crab crane Frog rammer Ram

Road construction Tunnelling Construction Structures Hydraulics Concrete Ports Construction machinery Construction machinery Construction machinery

Table 3.  Joint expressions and English correspondences and their corresponding CE subfields Spanish joint expressions (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)

Cresta de presa Garra de fijación Uña de sujeción Ala de viga Pluma de grúa

CE English correspondence

CE subfield

‘Crown’ ‘Yoke’ ‘Feather’ ‘Flange’ ‘Boom’

Dams Building materials Construction Structures Construction machinery

Table 4.  Cross-linguistic metaphoric mappings and Spanish correspondences English zoomorphic metaphor

Same metaphoric/ Different metaSpanish metonymic zoomorphic phoric/metonymic correspondence mapping in Spanish mapping in Spanish

Crocodile cracking Mole machine Lifting dogs Pony truss bridge

No Yes Yes (metonymic) Yes (metonymic)

No – No Yes

Butterfly valve Bull float Dolphin structure Crab crane Frog rammer Hydraulic ram

Yes No No No No Yes (metonymic)

– No ? Yes Yes No

Pavimento fisurado Máquina topo Tenaza tractora Puente de armadura rebajada Válvula de mariposa Aplanadora mecánica Duque de Alba Carro de puente- grúa Pisón compactador Ariete hidráulico



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comparison). In turn, Spanish tends to use a higher number of words for parts of animals (25%). Yet, this was not always the case in Spanish, as Martín-­Herrero (2005) points out, by arguing that up to the 16th century there was a significant number of animal names used for technical chores that today are out of use or would be considered obsolete. Among them, Martín-Herrero quotes medieval Spanish terms like aguilón (English cognate: ‘eagle’) used to designate a type of earthenware sewer, anadija (English cognate: ‘duck’) designating a piece of a windmill, and puerca (English cognate: ‘sow’) designating a kind of screw nut. Nevertheless, as illustrated here, a variety of examples of parts of animal anatomies such as garra (Eng. ‘grip’), uña (Eng. ‘pin’), cresta (Eng. ‘crown’) or ala (of a beam) (Eng. ‘flange’) continue to be used in Spanish technical language today and respond to the metaphor parts of a machine are parts of an animal, which is part of the mapping: a machine is an animal. In order to establish cross-linguistic correspondences in the English–Spanish linguistic metaphor, a comparative study was carried out. The results shown in Table 4 suggest that more than half of the Spanish correspondences in the English zoomorphic examples lack a corresponding metaphoric structure (e.g. pavimento fisurado (‘crocodile cracking’), aplanadora (‘bull float’), tenaza (‘lifting dogs’), etc.) and those that are figurative tend to have a different mapping armadura (‘pony truss bridge’), carro (‘crab crane’). On the other hand, only two of them share the same zoomorphic metaphoric projections, mole/topo and butterfly/ mariposa, whereas ram/ariete has now lost its zoomorphic meaning, but keeps the part/whole metonymic mapping. The role of metonymy is strongly supported by the examples in two ways: metonymy appears embedded within metaphor, as in the ram example, and metaphor seems sometimes derived from metonymy, which would explain the part/ whole examples of animal parts in Spanish seen in the previous section. In sum, similar associative and metonymic mappings were found in both languages. For example, the clenching function of teeth in dogs is projected as part of this device and it is also present in its Spanish counterpart tenaza (part/whole). Comparable metonymic projections are the pushing force exerted by a ram with its counterpart ariete.4 In pony truss, the height of the animal (part/whole) is mapped in a similar way as armadura rebajada in Spanish. The metonymic mapping differs in frog rammer and pisón compactador, as it perspectivises the way the machine works in English (part/whole), as a contrast to its compaction effect (part/whole) in Spanish.

4. Ariete has now lost its zoomorphic meaning in Spanish.

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Table 5.  Cross-linguistic characteristics shared in source and target mappings (Forceville 2010) Zoomorphic metaphor

Characteristic(s) Metonymic Characteristic(s) Metonymic shared in source and mapping shared in source and mapping target domains Eng. Eng. target domains Sp. Sp.

Crocodile cracking Mole machine

Rugged surface Digging, building tunnel Shape Size Shape Shape/Behavior Behavior Shape Hopping movement

Yes Yes

Driving pushing power

Yes

Lifting dogs Pony truss bridge Butterfly valve Bull float Dolphin structure Crab crane Frog rammer Hydraulic ram

Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes

– Digging, building a tunnel – – Shape Shape/Behaviour – Pulling action Up and downward force Driving pushing power

No Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes ?? Yes Yes Yes

Table 5 lists the characteristics shared in the source and target domains that are mapped in each language, according to Forceville’s conditions for multimodal metaphor. For example, in Eng. mole, Sp. topo, the source domain maps the resemblance between the digging and burrowing ways of this animal onto the way a tunnelling machine operates in English and Spanish. Similarly, it is the form of butterfly, Sp. mariposa, that is transposed in both languages. Other examples are cross-­linguistically different, for instance in carro de grúa, the transposition lies in the pulling action of the device (Spanish) rather than in the shape of a crab crane (English). On the whole, metonymic mappings play an essential function in both languages interacting with metaphor (see Table 5). An important finding of this study is that the above metaphorical pairings are constrained by strong contextual dependence. In fact, each group is slotted into specific subareas. For example, crocodile cracking occurrences are found in a context related to asphalt-pavements and is practically non-existent in other CE subfields. Dolphin structure is contextually bound to ports or harbours, and is almost absent from other areas, mole machines tend to appear mostly in a tunnel-­ related context and the same applies to the rest of the examples. This phenomenon, common to CE English and Spanish expressions, indicates that linguistic metaphor is very sensitive to specific context and hence research on this and possible specific mappings could be very useful. The identification of generic mappings in different genres can serve to provide CE discourse with a unifying character which could be helpful for example in language learning. In this respect,



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the application of corpus analysis with linguistic data extracted from different genres and from distinct subfields can be very useful. On the other hand, the mapping ENGINEERING MACHINES/TOOLS ARE ANIMALS appears to be more productive in English, yielding a higher number of linguistic zoomorphic metaphors. In turn, the mapping ENGINEERING TOOLS ARE PARTS OF ANIMALS seems to be more frequent in Spanish, which would reinforce a metonymic origin of metaphor (metaphor from metonymy) or at least a dia­ chronic evolution of metaphor. Although both metaphoric mappings exist in both languages, differences of usage could be ascribed to cultural reasons, since each of them arranges its concepts according to particular cultural or historic factors. For that reason, it can be concluded that linguistic and visual metaphors encode sociocultural constructs and can encapsulate various epistemic systems (Chun & Yu 2008). 6. Conclusions According to the main tenets of this study, some final remarks are highlighted. A socio-cognitive approach of CE communication that takes into account specific cross-cultural and cognitive traits of this group can also be completed by cross-­linguistic study, in this particular case between English and Spanish. 1. An important outcome of the cross-linguistic study is that whereas conceptual visual mappings can roughly correlate, linguistic metaphors greatly differ in both languages. This supports the usefulness of joining visual and verbal modes, since the former can serve to clarify the latter in cross-linguistic variation. 2. Metonymic mappings play an important part and interact with metaphor in English and Spanish as they can work within metaphor or be the origin of metaphor. They are present in the two main mappings analysed, engineering machines/tools are animals and engineering tools are parts of animals. 3. Although these main metaphoric mappings are active in both languages, English is more likely to use engineering machines/tools are animals, as the source of a higher lexical production. The fact that current CE Spanish more frequently uses the mapping: engineering tools are parts of animals could be due to a metonymic origin of the metaphor (Ureña 2012). 4. Metaphor is a cultural phenomenon and as such it has to be accommodated according to the language. For example, we have observed no systematic linguistic correspondence of Spanish into English or vice versa. The nature of

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mappings does fluctuate and metaphorical realizations in one language could be metonymic or plainly literal in the other. “Many of our metaphors vary because our experiences as human beings also vary” (Kövecses 2008: 63). As mentioned above, the domain of engineering is in need of empirical studies that may look into multimodal and socio-cognitive metaphor supported by contextual specific discourse data developed in different languages. Linguists working within these discourse communities could largely contribute and benefit from that task. This could provide “global insight” (Fauconnier & Turner 2002: 312) into specific cross-cultural frames and communication studies.

URL illustrations license and acknowledgment Figure 2a: 91/365 Something’s Missing. ©JoeLodge. License type: CC BY 2.5. License: http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=13968241&searchId= a5de8dabea9a808d4eba Figure 2b: Digger – FGS Plant Hire. © terinea. License type: CC BY 2.5. License: http://www.flickr.com/photos/terinea/536245891/ Figure 3: Free cracked texture. © B.S. Wise. License type: CC BY 2.5. Llicense: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bswise/3713525292/ Figure 4: East Side Access: March 3, 2014© MTAPhotos. License type: CC BY 2.5. License: http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=26834992&searchId= 46a6082f206b0107b809a Figure 5: Lifting dogs. © Lara Alegre-Rodríguez. Figure 6: Pony truss bridge. © Rod Detty. License type: CC BY 2.5. License: http://www.flickr.com/photos/joe57spike/5579985843/ Figure 7: Titan II Aerojet Rock Engine Butterfly Valve Lock. © Clemens Vasters. License type: CC BY 2.0. License: http://www.flickr.com/photos/clemensv/8562931953/ Figure 8: Blue Grass Chemical Agent-Destruction Pilot Plant Munitions Demilitarization Building Finishing Concrete. ©Assembled Chemical. License type: CC BY 2.5. License: http://www.flickr.com/photos/acwa/4604675852/ Figure 9: Dolpins structure. https://us.fotolia.com/id/60180649. Purchased. Figure 10: Lofty crane.© sookie. License type: CC 2.5. License: https://photos-2.dropbox.com/t/2/AABDeD0E84orMV-QfyPRljK6AZuBNm6U_la5_HxaTfk-MA/12/78198350/jpeg/32x32/1/_/1/2/lofty%20crane.jpg/ EPHt8egDGCogBygH/SlocPhvDgjmqSi4xjeT5hl1G13_c82gP_4t9kqq49wE?size= 1024x768&size_mode=2 Figure 11: Frog rammer. https://us.fotolia.com/id/38617365?&utm_source=354367&utm_ medium=affiliation&utm_content=354367&tmad=c&tmcampid=8&tmplaceref=354367. Purchased. Figure 12: Hydraulic ram. © Dorman Long Technology Equipment Ltd. Permission to reproduce kindly granted by Managing Director. Source: http://www.dormanlongtechnology.com/en/Products/hydraulic_rams.htm).



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Figure 13: Cresta de presa. Presa de Riaño.© felipe_gabaldon. License type: CC BY 2.5. Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/felipe_gabaldon/4481246113/ Figure 14: Garra de fijación. © Lara Alegre-Rodríguez. Figure 15: Uña de sujeción. © Lara Alegre-Rodríguez. Figure 16: Ala de viga. © Tibsa, Permission to reproduce kindly granted by Tibsa company. Source: http://www.tibsa.com/tibsa/content/sites/default/files/vigasala01.jpg Figure 17: Pluma de grúa. © Red and blue Elsie esq. License type: CC BY 2.5. License: http://www.flickr.com/photos/elsie/6247699146/

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The use of metaphor and evaluation as discourse strategies in pre-electoral debates Just about winning votes Mercedes Díez Prados University of Alcalá

The present chapter analyzes metaphor use in a Spanish pre-electoral debate and its interplay with evaluation. The metaphorical expressions found are cross-­ culturally contrasted with those from a previous study for English (Neagu 2013) to verify to what extent they are equivalent in English and Spanish and whether similarities are influenced by ideological factors. Furthermore, the evaluative overload of metaphors in the Spanish debate is explored by confronting them with the evaluative devices encountered in the same text after the application of Hunston’s (2000) evaluation model and Martin and White’s (2005) Appraisal Theory. Results show that, although cross-cultural expression of metaphors differs at times, all politicians use them to win election, rather than due to ideological reasons. Moreover, metaphor and evaluation are often realized by the same linguistic expressions. Keywords: metaphor, evaluation, political discourse, pre-electoral debate, cross-cultural, persuasion, Critical Discourse Analysis, Appraisal Theory, argumentative strategies

1. Introduction Political language has been object of wide research to find out which persuasive and argumentative strategies politicians use to sound more convincing than other candidates (Lakoff 1996/2002; Cienki 2005; Dijk 2005; Charteris-Black 2006; Neagu 2013; Cabrejas-Peñuelas & Díez-Prados 2014). Despite the fact that it may seem obvious that political candidates will defend their personal and their party’s point of view to convince the audience, and will attack that of their opponents, empirical evidence by means of thorough and sound linguistic analysis is needed

doi 10.1075/pbns.262.09die © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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to demonstrate how, to what extent and by which means this positive self-­ evaluation and other-depreciation are fulfilled. Theoretical frameworks developed for the analysis of evaluation, such as Martin and White’s Appraisal Model (2005) or Hunston’s (2000) have proved particularly useful to unveil how politicians use these devices with the aforementioned opposing functions (Cabrejas-Peñuelas & Díez-Prados 2014; Díez-Prados & Cabrejas-Peñuelas, in preparation). Furthermore, the language of politics has been deeply studied from a cognitive linguistic perspective, particularly for its use of metaphor: “(…) politics is an area in which we would expect metaphorical expressions to be used. Indeed, political speech is one of the recognized types of classical rhetoric, of which metaphors are an integral part” (Ungerer & Schmid 1996: 149). Therefore, the complementation of an analysis of evaluation with an analysis of metaphor use seems a perfect match to provide insights on how politicians use metaphors both for self- evaluation and other-depreciation (Dijk 2005: 68). The use of metaphor in political discourse has recently been examined in pre-­electoral debates (Neagu 2013), and in debates across Europe (Musolff 2004), but, to my knowledge, none has dealt with the use of metaphors in pre-­electoral debates in the context of Spain, as compared with metaphor use in the American context in order to check if the metaphors used reflect ideological traits and whether they are cross-linguistic or not. With this aim of providing a contrastive view of the use of metaphors in this type of (sub)genre (i.e. pre-electoral debates), the results obtained in this study are compared with those of the aforementioned study by Neagu (2013) on the use of conceptual metaphors in American pre-­ electoral debates. Thus, the questions that guide this research are: 1. Which metaphors are used by each candidate in the Spanish pre-electoral debate chosen for analysis? 2. To what extent are metaphors used in the Spanish pre-electoral debate equivalent to or different from those found in research on American debates by other scholars? 3. Is metaphor use conditioned by ideological traits in the Spanish and American debates, as Lakoff (1996/2002) suggests (strict father vs. nurturant parent metaphorical conceptualization)? A further enquiry will be carried out in this chapter to investigate on the interplay between metaphor and evaluation: 4. Do metaphors in the Spanish debate carry an evaluative load? In order to answer the first three research questions, an analysis of metaphors was conducted on the Rajoy-Rubalcaba 2011 pre-electoral debate (Introduction and



Metaphor and evaluation in pre-electoral debates 217

Economy & Employment sections) and these were compared with results gathered in previous studies of metaphor use such as Lakoff ’s (1996, 2002), Musolff ’s (2004) and, particularly, Neagu’s (2013), whose study analyses metaphors in a corpus of similar characteristics to this one. Since metaphors do not seem likely to “contradict universal human experience” (Kövecses 2002: 76), we can expect a higher degree of similarity than discrepancy in political metaphors between English and Spanish. To answer the fourth question, the metaphorical expressions in the Spanish debate were examined to check whether they contained evaluative devices, based on the results of two previous studies (Cabrejas-Peñuelas & Díez-Prados 2014 and Díez-­Prados & Cabrejas-Peñuelas, in preparation). The final aim of this phase of the analysis is to examine the interplay between metaphors and evaluation, since evaluation could enhance the persuasive role of metaphors. If metaphors form a “coherent view of reality” (Charteris-Black 2004: 28 as quoted in Hart 2007: 2), they can be considered as a kind of prism through which candidates are presented, and the way they are viewed is likely to have a powerful persuasive force for prospect voters when those metaphorical expressions are loaded with positive or negative evaluation. In the next sections, a theoretical review of metaphors and evaluation in political discourse is presented, followed by a discussion of the cross-cultural use of metaphors and a brief overview of the political contexts where the Spanish and American debates compared were held. After the theoretical block, the empirical study is presented: method, data collection, and discussion of results, to finally conclude with the most relevant insights gathered from the empirical study. 2. Metaphors and evaluation in political discourse That political discourse is rife with metaphors has been demonstrated by many researchers (Lakoff 1992, 1996/2002; Ungerer & Schmid 1996; Semino & Masci 1996; Kövecses 2002; Musolff 2004; Cienki 2005; Charteris-Black 2006; Semino 2008, to mention just a few); in addition, several authors have pointed out the evaluative potential of metaphors (Neagu 2013; López Rodríguez 2007). Thus, the focus of the present study is to observe the role metaphorical expressions play in a sample of discourse whose evaluative charge has been already proved by applying two models to analyse evaluation in discourse: Hunton’s model (2000) and Martin and White’s Appraisal Theory (2005). The type of genre chosen as a corpus, a pre-­election debate, is prone to fulfilling an eminent evaluative function, since its main purpose is to defend one’s position and attack the opponent interlocutor;

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the intended perlocutionary effect of such dialogical duel is of utmost importance: to gain access to power by bringing the electorate to side with the speaker. Van Dijk’s (2005) Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) framework presents parliamentary debates as global semantic strategies of positive self-­presentation and negative other-presentation, which can easily be extrapolated to pre-­election electoral debates, since they are practices, to a certain extent, of the same genre (i.e. political debates). Based on the idea taken from Fairclough (2001: 123, as quoted in Neagu 2013: 21) that genres are ways of acting or producing social life, Neagu considers that “the political debate is a genre within the social practice of elections” (Neagu 2013: 21). Since politics has a strong basis in moral values (known as moral politics),1 different political ideologies represent reality through different metaphors (Kövecses 2002; Lakoff 1996/2002): conservatives consider morality is strength (strict father metaphor), whereas liberals think morality is nurturance (nurturant parent metaphor). These two opposing metaphors have a common metaphorical ground: the conception of a nation or society as a family (i.e. a nation or society is a family), and this different conceptualization of morality vertebrates the party’s policies. Metaphors are very powerful devices that help us understand complex issues in society via a simple expression; in such a way, complicated political agendas or intricate economic programs may be presented to the general audience in a comprehensible way via metaphors. This explanatory potential of metaphors is, however, less important than their emotional impact, since “the purpose of political rhetoric is persuasion or, more bluntly, the manipulation of the public” (Ungerer & Schmid 1996: 149). The influence metaphors can have in our conceptualization of reality is backed up by Goatly’s (2007: 28) claims that metaphors have the power to challenge commonsense categories of knowledge. To go one step further, more than two decades ago, Lakoff warned us in his study ‘Metaphor and War: The Metaphor System Used to Justify War in the Gulf ’ that “metaphors backed up by bombs can kill” (Lakoff 1992: 481). According to Neagu (2013: 31), “[d]epending on the extent to which people internalize and appropriate the ideas that emerge with each speech, the political discourse can produce cognitive and behavioural change in society development”. Hence, listeners of a pre-electoral debate can be persuaded by the discourse of one of the contenders, which may make them vote for that given candidate, giving a political party the power to change society. Therefore, the persuasive role of evaluative discourse and metaphor in pre-election debates should not be

1. Kövecses (2002: 64) mentions this term and it is also in the title of Lakoff ’s book (1st ed. 1996, 2nd ed. 2002).



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underestimated, because it can be one means to hide or disguise a given evaluation to fill, according to Neagu, a mental void: Political discourse attempts to bridge the mental void of the society formed due to society needs and frustration. This mental void is an information gap, a gap in the sensibility and sensitivity of society. The results of the elections represent the feedback the candidate receives as regards the extent to which he managed himself to be understood, he managed to persuade the Other, to fill the void created by the need.  (Neagu 2013: 31) [all masculine pronouns for generic reference in original]

Political theorising is frequently based on constitutive metaphors that may disguise important aspects of the issue that should have been considered; the effect of metaphors may be negative and destructive (Ungerer & Schmid 1996: 152) and, henceforth, this area of cognitive linguistics has clear applications for Critical Discourse Analysis (Hart 2007; Chilton 2011; Musolff 2012). As Chilton (2011: 770) claims about Van Dijk’s work on CDA, this approach has frequently had a “cognitive slant”. Legitimization is a crucial concept in CDA (Chilton 2011: 772) and, taking for granted that metaphors “tend to determine our ways of thinking/consciousness and acting/practice in these [race, sex, politics, etc.] spheres” (Goatly 2007: 4), it is only logical to think that metaphors can be instruments to legitimize given values or actions. This is Chilton’s (2011) main argument when explaining the role cognitive linguistics, and particularly the part that conceptual metaphors, may play. Charteris-Black (2005: 197, as quoted in Musolff 2012: 304) proposes a methodological framework called Critical Metaphor Analysis to denominate the approach that applies Cognitive Metaphor Theory to political discourse. According to Musolff, [w]hat is relevant in this analysis from a CDA viewpoint is the argumentative advantage that metaphor gives its users when they want to (dis-)qualify political developments, social groups or even individuals threatening the identity or continued existence of a nation state. (Musolff 2012: 303)

Metaphors are used instead of sound arguments, not having to demonstrate the truthfulness of claims made via metaphorical expressions (Musolff 2012: 303). Metaphorical expressions allow speakers to “express and insinuate even the most extreme views under the guise of ‘subjectively’ coloured figurative speech (Musolff 2012: 303). The present study can thus be framed within the domain of CDA since its final aim is to observe what intended meanings are uttered by the debaters and their possible impact on deciding the nation’s future government, transcending,

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in consequence, “mere commenting of ‘rhetorical’ aspects of political and public discourse” (Musolff 2012: 307). Since the results obtained for the Spanish debate will be compared with those found in an English corpus of equivalent characteristics (Neagu 2013) the upcoming section is devoted to presenting theoretical issues regarding the cross-cultural dimension of metaphors. The aim for the comparison between metaphor use in Spanish and American debates is in the interest of examining variation, universality or idiosyncrasy of metaphorical expressions in this type of discourse by politicians who share ideological values but belong to different sociolinguistic backgrounds. 3. Cross-cultural use of metaphors Kövecses (2005) claims that metaphors can be both universal and language-­ specific, depending on whether they are primary metaphors, which are likely to be universal, or complex, which tend to vary across languages and cultures. Kövecses (2002, 2005) mentions three possible reasons why (some) metaphors may be universal or cross-cultural: (1) accidentally; (2) borrowing; or (3) universal motivation; he signals the third one as most likely. What remains to be asked is whether this (near-) universality is for basic metaphors (such as the metaphors associated with love, anger or happiness) or applies also to more specific concept domains, such as those belonging to political discourse; that is, when dealing with physiological processes, very different languages and cultures seem to share some conceptual metaphors (e.g. anger is pressurized fluid in a container, Kövecses 2002: 165–174), but do discourses for specific genres, as political discourse can be, share the same or similar conceptual metaphors? According to Kövecses (2005), in certain cases, (near-) universality of a metaphor can be explained by metonymic correlations: “conceptualized physiological characteristics (i.e., the conceptual metonymies) provide the cognitive motivation for people to conceptualize the angry person metaphorically as a pressurized container” (Kövecses 2005: 41). Contrariwise, conceptual metaphors, and metonymies as well, may vary cross-­culturally. Kövecses (2002: 183) distinguishes three ways in which conceptual metaphors and metonymies can differ: (1) their range; (2) their elaboration; and (3) their emphasis. Range refers to sharing not all or just some of the metaphor source domains (e.g. happiness is flowers in the heart is a metaphor in Chinese but not in English). Secondly, two languages may share the same metaphor, like the aforementioned container metaphor, but may be elaborated differently (e.g. the container in Hungarian, for instance, is typically the head, when in English it is typically the whole body). Finally, there may be more linguistic expressions in a given language that emphasize a particular aspect of a metaphor:



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although English uses the head as metaphor in some expressions, e.g. to lose one’s head (Kövecses 2002: 184), Hungarian makes greater emphasis on the head or brain than English; a difference in emphasis on processes of metaphor or metonymy also occurs in different languages (i.e. a language may prefer one process over the other). Cross-cultural variation in the use of metaphor and metonymy seems to be due to the broader cultural context or to the natural and physical environment (Kövecses 2002: 186). López Rodríguez (2007: 18), in her study on metaphors as applied to depict women and girls in magazines addressed to these social groups, mentions the influence culture exerts on language and the consequently differing use they make of metaphors: the same metaphorical expression (e.g. cheese) can be used to represent even opposite concepts in different languages (i.e. in Spanish to mean an attractive person and in British English to mean quite the opposite, an unattractive female). Apart from cultural variation of conceptual metaphors, they also vary from person to person (Kövecses 2002, 2005), therefore, some variation in the use of metaphors is expected between the participants in the debate: their ideology will undoubtedly have an influence on the types of metaphors they use (Lakoff 1996/ 2002), but so will do their individuality. Individual variation (Kövecses 2002: 193– 194) can spring from different sources: human concern and personal history. An example of the former would be the case of metaphors that come from our professional lives, to the extreme of exploiting our expert knowledge to the possible detriment of not being understood by the lay audience; the latter, personal history, refers to salient events and experiences in our lives that might condition the type of metaphors we use (e.g. metaphors used by politicians in their campaigns).2 Goatly (2007: 218) mentions the powerful effect culture and ideology may have on metaphor; nevertheless, modern Western societies share some metaphor themes due to certain historical bases (Goatly 2007: 218). In the next section a brief mention is made to the sociocultural and sociolinguistic contexts for the discourse samples contrasted, since they may have a bearing on metaphor themes and specific realizations in the debates compared.

2. An example provided by Kövecses (2002: 194) is that of the sports metaphor in the 1996 American campaign used by politicians like by Bill Clinton: “Let’s not take our eye off the ball. I ask for your support, not on a partisan basis, but to rebuild the American economy” (emphasis in the original). Apart from the politics is sports metaphor common in American politics, the individual history of each politician made them use a metaphor coming from a specific sport (e.g. Bill Clinton is well-known by his enthusiasm for golf).

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4. Socio-political background of the Spanish and American debates The discourse genre of face-to-face debates is recent in Spain when compared with other countries, like the United States. In Spain, the first such debate took place only two decades ago, in 1993, before the General Elections, whereas in the U.S. the tradition started more than thirty years earlier, with the Kennedy-­Nixon debate in 1960. Rather than having to contrast their ideas face-to-face in front of a large audience, Spanish politicians always preferred to present their agendas and defend their ideas in a more supportive atmosphere: that of mass meetings, where they were surrounded by members of their own party and were speaking to a self-­ selected public who shared the same ideological principles. Notwithstanding this lack of tradition, pre-electoral debates have always proved very popular in Spain and have aroused great interest and expectations on the rare occasions when they have taken place. The last debate held in our country, at the time this study was carried out, was that between Mariano Rajoy, representative of the conservative party Partido Popular (PP henceforth) and Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba – most widely known as Rubalcaba –, candidate of the socialist party (Partido Socialista Obrero Español, or PSOE for short). The Rajoy-Rubalcaba debate took place right before the November 20th 2011 General Elections and followed the Zapatero-­Rajoy debate in 2008, confirming that a new tradition seemed to have been established (Cabrejas-­Peñuelas 2015). The socio-economic situation of Spain when the Rajoy-Rubalcaba debate was held was at a critical point, since the country was suffering a profound economic crisis, as a result of the subprime mortgage bust in the U.S. in 2007, which affected the world economy. This globalized problem affected Spain profoundly since the country’s economy had already been weakened by a long period of real estate speculation and a large debt burden. Strained by these circumstances and the Spanish citizens’ uneasiness, the Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero decided to call early General Elections on 20th November 2011. It was in that climate of tension that the two major political parties in the country, PSOE and PP, agreed to organize a single televised and radio broadcast pre-election debate on the 7th November 2011. Since the Prime Minister had decided not to run in the 2011 elections, the contenders in the debate were not Zapatero and the PP leader, Mariano Rajoy, but the latter and Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba, Minister of Internal Affairs at the time, and the newly-elected head of the Socialist Party ticket. The debate aroused great expectations and both contenders and their parties were aware of the fact a lot was at stake: the Socialists had a golden opportunity to convince a good number of swing voters, who were undecided between voting them or other left-wing parties, and the PP wanted to offer the image of their leader as a moderate, centre-right candidate. Right after the debate, two weeks



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before the elections, an opinion poll on vote intention showed that the PP would win 19 more Congress seats than needed to have absolute majority, while the PSOE was predicted to be short of that figure by 60 seats (“Socialist Election Victory near Impossible”, El País, 4 Nov. 2011). In the U.S., on the other hand, the history for pre-electoral debates ranges so far from the Kennedy-Nixon debate in 1960 to the Obama and Romney debates in 2012. Electoral elections are hard to imagine without a face-to-face confrontation between the leaders of the liberal and conservative parties. The Spanish and American debates also differ somewhat in the way the turns are taken: in Spain a moderator introduces the topics to be dealt with and organizes the turns, but does not pose direct questions to the contenders, as they do in the American tradition. U.S. politicians are expected to be skilful public communicators in this type of political arena; thus, how politicians tell a message frequently has more weight than what they actually say. In his article “Debates Made in USA”, Caño (2011) claims that being telegenic is even more important than being the best politician and, consequently, debates are certainly the most popular current form for helping people to choose the nation’s chief executive. The American debates that will be used to compare the results obtained in the present study regarding the presence of metaphorical expressions will be the ones analysed in Neagu (2013), the three debates held before the 2008 General Elections in the U.S. between Obama and McCain (September 26, October 7 and October 15). The socio-political context of the Obama-McCain confrontations, in turn, was influenced by the costly and somewhat unfruitful war in Iraq to annihilate terrorism, a high unemployment rate and lack of a proper public health system; the financial downturn in September 2008, right before the debate, greatly influenced the topics dealt with on the debates, particularly the one that took place that month. The social circumstances of the Spanish and American debates were, to a certain extent, comparable, although the only issue that was discussed in depth in both was the economic situation of each country. 5. Data collection and methodology The Rajoy-Rubalcaba debate has a total of 19,849 words, of which 967 belong to the Introduction and 7,775 words to the first topical block, the Economy & Employment section. Those are the ones which have been chosen as the corpus of the present paper (a total of 8,742 words), since that topic was dealt with in the Spanish pre-electoral debate (November 20th, 2011) and in two of the American debates (September 7th, 2008 and October 15th, 2008) analysed by Neagu (2013). It is only logical to think that conceptual metaphors are intrinsically re-

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lated with the discourse topic (i.e. they are “topic-triggered”, Semino 2008: 104) and, therefore, metaphors created to deal with different issues are not expected to be coincidental; what is of interest is seeing whether politicians with different mother tongues and from different cultural backgrounds use the same or different metaphors when dealing with the same topic, and whether political ideology influences their choices. In the Spanish debate, the number of words per debater was equivalent: Rajoy uttered 307 words in the Introduction and 3,718 words in the Economy & Employment section (a total of 4,025 words) and Rubalcaba 272 words in the Introduction and 3,731 in the Economy & Employment section (4,004 words in total). The metaphor analysis was applied to those 8,029 words (around 40% of the total words in the whole debate: approximately 45% of all words uttered by each participant). The transcription of the debate was taken from the Spanish national radio and television broadcast (Radio y Televisión Española or RTVE) web page.3 Of all interventions in the Spanish debate, only the debaters’ words were analysed, since the moderator’s are not relevant for the present study; first of all, his/her function in the debate is merely to distribute turns and, secondly, the focus of the study is the use of metaphors by the debaters to see how they contribute to the evaluative function of the text. Firstly, the number of metaphors present in the Spanish corpus was analysed, comparing the metaphor use made by the two debaters, and then the types of metaphors found in the Spanish debate were contrasted with those gathered from other studies on metaphors in American political discourse, particularly with those of a previous study by Neagu (2013) on the Obama-McCain debates in the 2008 campaign; Lakoff ’s (1996/2002) work also served as reference when comparing the use of metaphor by politicians in expressing ideological traits. The procedure followed to distinguish metaphorical expressions was that suggested in Kövecses (2010: 5–6) and designed by the Pragglejaz Group: once the general understanding of the text has been established, the contextual meaning of the lexical units is identified to decide whether they have a literal or metaphorical meaning. In order to determine whether the contextual meaning is metaphorical, other alternative, more concrete meanings of the expression are considered; if the contextual meaning can be understood when contrasted with the more basic, concrete one, then the expression is considered metaphorical. To take an example from the corpus: para abrir el grifo del crédito (literally, ‘to open the credit’s faucet’) is interpreted as the metaphor giving credit is opening the faucet, thus, credit is water (what commonly comes out of a faucet). 3. The debate and transcription can be consulted on the web page http://www.rtve.es/noticias/ elecciones/generales/debate/.



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Furthermore, following Cienki (2005), when identifying metaphorical expressions in the Spanish debate, the notion of entailment was taken into account. He explains that, when coding his text (also a pre-electoral debate between Bush and Al Gore, 2000) that took place in most of the metaphorical expressions found were not direct expressions of Lakoff ’s (1996/2002) strict father or nurturant parent metaphors: (…) one encounters many expressions which seem coherent with the intent behind either the SF [Strict Father] or the NP [Nurturant Parent] model. Consequently, we also coded for any expression which followed the logic of either an SF or NP conceptual metaphor (…) These were called ‘entailments’, following Lakoff and Johnson’s (1980, 1999) use of this term in reference to inferences which are logical consequences of a given conceptual metaphoric mapping.”  [all emphasis in italics added] (Cienki 2005: 5)

In the corpus analysed, for instance, Rajoy’s statement in example (13) below (“Lo único que me interesa de ese impuesto para los bancos (…) es si eso sirve para que haya más crédito en España (…)”, The only thing that interests me about that tax for banks (…) is whether that is useful to have more credit in Spain…) was coded as governing is caring (for the people), since he shows concern for people’s well-­being, which supports the intent behind the nurturant parent conceptual metaphor. Although this is not a direct metaphor of the ones proposed by Lakoff (1996/2002), it has been labelled as nurturant parent because it follows the logic of that metaphorical mapping. Likewise, the chained metaphors aforementioned (giving credit is opening the faucet, thus, credit is water) were also interpreted within the nurturant parent metaphor, since giving credit is the job of a government that provides wealth for its citizens. Furthermore, in order to make the identification of metaphors more reliable and guarantee consistency in the analysis of metaphorical expressions, a second researcher was asked to analyse 50% of the text and an interrater reliability measure was calculated. Both researchers coincided in the 70% of the cases; in those cases where discrepancies were encountered, the two researchers discussed the potential metaphorical meaning of the given expression and if no consensus was reached, the expression was discarded as non-metaphorical. This same procedure was carried out in the analyses of evaluation mentioned below, although in those occasions 30% of the whole debate was analysed by the co-authors and the consensuses were 82.65% in the Appraisal analysis and 95.68% agreement when applying Hunston’s model. With the intention of shedding some light on the degree of interplay between the linguistic phenomena of metaphor and evaluation, the metaphorical expressions found were further scrutinized to check whether they exerted an evaluative

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function according to a previous analysis of the Rajoy-Rubalcaba debate resulting from the application of Hunston’s (2000) evaluation model and Martin and White’s (2005) Appraisal Theory. Hunston (2000) proposes a framework to categorize statements into two main types: Informing (i.e. alignment between the words of the text and the world) and Focusing (i.e. description of the current text, e.g. the debate at hand). In turn, Informing statements are subdivided into World-­creating statements (sub-classified into Assumption, Hypothetical and Recommendation) and World-reflecting ones (sub-classified into Fact/event, Interpretation and Assessments).4 In turn, Appraisal Theory distinguishes between Attitude (evaluation that is “concerned with our feelings, including emotional reactions, judgements of behaviour and evaluation of things”, Martin & White 2005: 35), Graduation (intensification of evaluation) and Engagement (voices in evaluation). Of these three types, only the first category was analysed, Attitude, which is subdivided into three categories: Affect (i.e. resources for construing emotional reactions; this deals with the registration of positive and negative feelings), Judgement (i.e. evaluation of human behaviour ethically; this is concerned with language that criticizes/praises behaviour) and Appreciation (i.e. evaluation of things, processes and states of affairs aesthetically or according to social values). In the following sections the results and their interpretations for the Spanish debate are presented and compared with those of the American debates. Then the results for the interaction between metaphor and evaluation are discussed before the conclusions for the present study are drawn. 6. Metaphor use in the Spanish pre-electoral debate This section deals with the results derived from the analysis of metaphor use in stretches of discourse from the Rajoy-Rubalcaba 2011 pre-electoral debate, addressing the first research question (i.e metaphors used by each candidate). The whole list of metaphorical expressions found has been included in the Appendix, and the frequencies obtained, together with their metaphorical mappings, will be commented here. Table 1 shows the numerical results for metaphor use by the two candidates, classified according to the Target domain being mapped with the intention of finding generalizations regarding the concepts that were metaphorically expressed by each debater. 4. For a more detailed explanation of the model, see Hunston (2000) or Díez-Prados & Cabrejas-­Peñuelas (in preparation). For the Appraisal Theory analysis see Cabrejas-Peñuelas & Díez-­Prados (2014).



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Table 1.  Results for metaphor use Target domain type and frequency of metaphorical expressions Rajoy

Target domain type and frequency of metaphorical expressions Rubalcaba

Businesses  1 Credit   1 Dismissal   1 Electoral promises   1 Fashion   1 Hardening  1 Norm   1 Spain   1 Wages   1 Work reform   1 Crisis   2 Debate/debater  3 Flexibility   3 Housing   3 Less   3 Life   3 (Un)employment 12 Economy 13 Politics 13 Governing/Government 16

Companies  1 Credit   1 Europe   1 International relations   1 Less   1 Life   1 Patrimony  1 Crisis   2 Flexibility   2 Down   3 Debate/debater  4 Housing   4 Politics   5 Paying taxes   7 Economy 12 Governing/Government 25

Total metaphorical expressions: 81 Total types: 20 Type/token ratio: 0.246

Total metaphorical expressions: 71 Total types: 16 Type/token ratio: 0.225

Although Rajoy uses slightly more metaphorical expressions than Rubalcaba (81 versus 71) and also presents a wider range of targets than the latter (20 versus 16), the type/token ratio found in both is practically identical (0.246 vs. 0.225). Thus, it can be deduced that the metaphor use by the candidates does not present sharp quantitative differences. There is also wide coincidence in the targets covered: 9 of the target domains metaphorically elaborated were identical (credit, life, crisis, flexibility, the debate(r), housing, politics, government/ governing and economy). Also, the same two target domains were coincidental as the most frequently elaborated: governing/government and economy. That economy is widely present can be expected, taking into account that the section of the debate analysed was Economy & Employment. However, the second topic, (un) employment, is only addressed as such by Rajoy (12 cases); Rubalcaba mentions unemployment only in metaphors for governing (governing is cutting, strict father metaphor) to criticize or accuse the PP of intending to cut unemployment

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benefits. This may be due to the fact that Rajoy was interested in highlighting one of the most pivotal problems in Spain, unemployment, as a detriment for the Government in power at the time (PSOE). Rubalcaba, being part of the Government, was not favoured if that topic was addressed. unemployment, economy, governing/government and politics are the most frequent targets in Rajoy’s metaphorical reasoning with more than 10 instances for each. Employment is conceptualized both as a human being and life itself, being the Government the creator or birth giver of such creature (nurturant parent metaphor in Lakoff ’s terms).5 Since employment was perceived as a problem in Spain at the time the debate was held, it is also mapped as a building that needs a reform (“hay que hacer una reforma laboral” ‘a job reform must be carried out’, thus employment is a building) and lack of work is considered as being lost (unemployment is getting lost) and harmed if wages are cut down. Economy, in Rajoy’s metaphorical terms, has many faces: it is a human being, a plant, a liquid, a building, a machine and a vehicle (i.e. it occupies all levels in the great chain of being metaphor, Lakoff & Turner 1989: 170 in Rojo López & Orts Llopis 2008: 427); because of its upright nature, when economy is up, it is positive, and negative when it is down. It represents, at the same time, security and uncertainty (i.e. economy is a gambling game) and the Government’s role is to provide certainty by playing and making people play by the rules (strict father metaphor, in Lakoff ’s terms). Governing/government and doing politics, two obviously associated concepts, are the most ubiquitous in Rajoy’s discourse (a total of 29 metaphors altogether). Rajoy presents governing as two contrary positions: on the one hand, governing is healing, caring, helping and financing (i.e. nurturant parent metaphor) but, on the other, it is tightening, being coherent and representing a moral authority (i.e. strict father metaphor); all in all, governing for Rajoy is a journey. Rajoy also creates two additional metaphors to represent the Government in power as an incompetent doctor (“Después equivocaron el diagnóstico” ‘Then you mistook the diagnosis’) and his, were he to become the President, as a building (“Yo propongo un cambio que nos permita detener la caída, crear empleo y asegurar las pensiones, la sanidad y la educación” ‘I propose a change which would allow us to stop the collapse, generate employment, and secure pensions, healthcare and education’). The rest of the metaphors are more isolated (three or less occurrences); maybe the other target domain worth mentioning, because it is present in both 5. Economy is often conceptualized as a living organism and, therefore, terms related to this domain are frequent growth, atrophy, decay, depression, infant, mature, ailing, healthy etc.) (Charteris-­Black 2001:  252).



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candidates, is how they conceive the debate. For Rajoy, the debate is also a journey, as can be seen in the following example where the expression salir al paso indicates the debate is conceived as moving along a path and he, as a walker, interrupts the opponent’s steps: (1) (…) quiero salir al paso de las excusas del Señor Pérez Rubalcaba. (‘I want to forestall/waylay Mr. Pérez Rubalcaba’s excuses’).

Rubalcaba’s metaphorical reasoning on Economy and Employment accounts for fewer metaphor tokens and types than Rajoy’s but the frequencies are wider spread among the types. Only two targets have a frequency of more than 10 tokens (economy and governing/government). For Rubalcaba, governing is both a journey (like for Rajoy) and a vehicle, and it fits more tightly with the nurturant parent metaphor, which is considered as proper of a liberal ideology (Lakoff 2002): governing is creating employment, protecting, healing, providing safety, cooperating; it is also saving and adjusting, like sensible parents do when administering their home economy: (2) (…) garantizar la seguridad de los españoles, las garantías básicas como la sanidad, las pensiones, la educación y la protección al desempleo (‘…guarantee the Spaniards’ security, basic guarantees such as health care, pensions, education or protection against unemployment’).

Politics (5 tokens) for Rubalcaba is also conceived as a journey, like governing, where the political party is the family. This family metaphor is once used ironically, when mentioning that members of the party do whatever they see their superiors to do: (3) Sé lo que dijo la señora De Cospedal, que, como los niños, cuentan lo que oyen en casa. (‘I know what Ms. De Cospedal said, who, like children, say what they hear at home’).

Politics is seen, on the one hand, as contention (strict father metaphor) and, on the other, as cooperation (nurturant parent metaphor). economy, the key issue at hand in this debate section, is considered a journey (this metaphor is, as can be seen, ubiquitously applied to many targets) and, as such, it is at times disoriented (“reorientar nuestra economía” ‘re-orient our economy’). It is also an ill human being, while the Government is the doctor, whose treatments are not always appropriate (see example (6) commented below). Economy is sick because there are products that are harmful or dangerous or because its organism is not in equilibrium. Both Rajoy and Rubalcaba picture the debate as a journey and

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Rubalcaba also expresses it metaphorically as a fight: “Perdió el debate” (‘You lost the debate’). In the following section the cross-cultural comparison between the present results and those found in previous research by other scholars on American debates is set forth. 7. A cross-cultural comparison of metaphor In this section the second and the third research questions are addressed: to what extent metaphors used in the Spanish debate are equivalent to or different from those found in American pre-electoral debates and whether candidates use metaphors according to the ideologies of their political parties. The relevance of this comparison lies in the interest generated by studying the potential cultural variation in the use of metaphorical expressions in this type of genre and in seeing whether metaphor is conditioned by ideological traits: an expectable outcome would be that candidates who share political ideology (i.e. conservative vs liberal, Rajoy-­McCain and Rubalcaba-Obama, respectively) would employ the same metaphorical expressions (i.e. strict father vs. nurturant parent, according to Lakoff 1996/2002). Neagu’s (2013) study analyzed the use of conceptual metaphors in the three debates that preceded the 2008 American General Elections between Obama and McCain. Of all the metaphors she found, there are three target domains that are present in both the American and the Spanish debates: economy, governing and politics. A word of warning must be issued regarding the comparative analysis to be carried out here; since we are not dealing with the (potential) translation of metaphorical expressions in two languages (like, for instance, Barcelona 2001 or Rojo López & Orts Llopis 2008), the comparison will be established between the conceptual metaphors found in the two corpora and how each speaker phrases them in his own language, highlighting in their linguistic expressions different aspects or manifestations of the same metaphor. Economy is pictured as a vehicle by Liberal Obama (“The economy is slowing down”, Neagu 2013: 70) and Conservative Rajoy (“Yo creo que en España estos años se ha hecho una política económica que nos ha traído hasta aquí” ‘I think that in Spain these years an economic policy has been done that has brought us up to this point’). This metaphor is elaborated differently: economy is a moving vehicle in English and a means of transport in Spanish. The motivation of the metaphor econony is a vehicle in both languages could be the universality of economic jargon.



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Within economy, a topic dealt with in debates on both sides of the Atlantic is the financial crisis, being a worldwide problem. Both in the American and the Spanish debates, economy is portrayed as an ill human being, and the crisis is seen as a disease while the President is considered a surgeon/doctor who will cure it. Although both Obama and McCain employ this metaphor, the conservative candidate proposes cutting expenses (“across-the-board spending freeze”), which the liberal one opposes (instead of using a hatchet, Obama proposes to use a scalpel tool to solve it, Neagu 2013: 41). In the case of the Spanish debate, the crisis domain was mapped differently by the two candidates: for Rubalcaba, the liberal candidate, the crisis was either a disease or a container (also found in Neagu 2013: 42 by McCain) and for Rajoy, the conservative candidate, the crisis is either a disease or, quite surprisingly, a language: (4) Hay más de 5 millones de españoles que quieren trabajar y que no pueden – esa es la expresión más brutal de esta crisis. (‘There are more than 5 million Spaniards who want to work but can’t – that’s the most brutal expression of this crisis’).

As can be deduced, if unemployment is an ‘expression’ of the crisis it is because this latter is interpreted as a language. It may also be interpreted that the disease metaphor is maintained if the consequences of the disease or the symptoms of the crisis are considered their “expression” (i.e. their manifestation). In the American debates the crisis was also pictured as an earthquake or a calamity, an uncontrollable force, but not so in the Spanish one, and the recovery is seen in the American interaction as a journey (aforementioned is the ubiquity of this metaphor to represent many different target domains). Of the four cases in cross-linguistic comparison mentioned by Charteris-­Black & Ennis (2001: 253) – (1) same conceptual metaphor and equivalent expression, (2) same conceptual metaphor but different linguistic expression, (3)  different conceptual metaphor in two languages, and (4) words/expressions with similar literal meanings but different metaphorical meanings – at times we find examples of the first one (i.e. the crisis is a container metaphor as hay dos formas de salir de la crisis ‘there are two ways to come out of the crisis’ quoted from Liberal Rubalcaba, and trying to work out a solution to this fiscal crisis that we’re in, from Conservative McCain, with equivalent metaphors and expressions) and at other times, there are simply different conceptual metaphors in the two languages (e.g. the crisis is a language/a disease vs. the crisis is an earthquake). Regarding politics and governing, McCain and Obama use different metaphorical linguistic expressions (Neagu 2013: 43): McCain seems to talk about politics and war all the time, regardless of the topic under discussion (politics

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is conflict); he adopts different roles, all of them portraying himself as the saviour of a corrupted system, whereas Obama frames himself as a rational actor concerned with different problems the country is facing (politics is judgment; policies are theories; politics is communication). Obama attempts to prove the government is to supply people’s basic needs (physiological needs and protection) and he assumes the role of the healer. The conservative candidate in the Spanish debate (i.e. Rajoy) uses this metaphor (i.e. governing is healing), like Obama, to claim what a government should do. This is probably because they are both speaking from their positions as candidates in the opposition and aspiring to become presidents: (5) We’ve got to have somebody who is fighting for the patient  (Obama, October 7, 2008 debate, in Neagu 2013: 46) (6) En tercer lugar, decir la verdad y hacer un buen diagnóstico  (Rajoy) (‘Thirdly, to tell the truth and make a diagnosis’ [and he tells the PSOE Government that they made the wrong diagnosis: ‘Después, equivocaron el diagnóstico’, ‘Then, you made the wrong diagnosis’]).

Although the underlying conceptual metaphor of the words used (in italics) is the same (Kövecses 2005: 133), their elaboration and, consequently, their linguistic expressions are different since they are not exact literal translations: each of them expresses different facets of a good doctor (i.e. to fight for the patient and making a correct diagnosis). Another coincidence between Liberal Obama and Conservative Rajoy is their use of the conceptual metaphor politics is ethics/ morality; in this case, each of them elaborates the metaphor differently, highlighting different figurative meanings of this conceptual metaphor: the American candidate highlights being right, whereas the Spanish one being austere, competent and honest: (7) If the United States has Al Qaida, bin Laden, top-level lieutenants in our sights, and Pakistan is unable or unwilling to act, then we should take them out. Now I think that’s the right strategy; I think that’s the right policy.  (Neagu 2013: 53) (8) Esa es la consecuencia de su política de dispendio (…) Por tanto, le resumo algunas ideas: un cambio, un Gobierno competente, decir la verdad, un diagnóstico, un plan, cuyo punto primero es una política austera. (‘That is the consequence of your waste policy (…) Therefore, I summarize a few ideas for you: a change, a competent Government, to tell the truth, a diagnosis, a plan, whose first point is an austere policy’).



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If Rajoy seems closer to Obama than to McCain in his use of metaphorical expressions, despite the fact that the Spanish candidate belongs to a conservative party while Obama represents a liberal one, it may be due to the fact that presenting one’s candidacy as a saviour has more weight, regardless of ideological traits: they both want to convince the audience that change (in government) is needed and that they would solve the problems posed by the Government in power if elected. It may also be the case that Obama’s ideology is closer to Rajoy’s than to Rubalcaba’s. What seems harder to explain in terms of ideological closeness are Rubalcaba’s similarities with McCain. When dealing with politics, Obama poses the syllogism: war is politics, politics is business, then, war is business. Another metaphor he uses is: politics is vision, and he pictures himself as a visionary. According to Neagu (2013: 55), Obama adheres to the nurturant parent cognitive model when dealing with domestic policy concerns, but for other issues he switches between the nurturant parent and the strict father model, whereas McCain is more balanced. This also happens with the Spanish candidates: to a certain extent, they both present themselves as Nurturant Parents, caring and protecting their people, but at times defend the Strict Father ideology or accuse the opposite party of applying Strict Father policies (expense cutting or restriction). Even if the Strict Father model is pictured in capitalist societies like the U.S.A. as morally correct (Lakoff 1996/2002, also pointed out by Goatly 2007: 384), all politicians in both debates appear poll driven and waffle from one position to another according to what is popular instead of holding to their core beliefs. This lack of consistency damages the debaters’ credibility (Jaffe 2013: 295), even if the audience is unaware of that. Finally, a last coincidence is that in both the American and the Spanish debates each candidate struggles to highlight the favourable aspects of his strategy attacking his opponent “by revealing some of the hidden interests of his plans that would downgrade the other’s status” and their metaphorical reasoning to reveal those otherwise implicit messages (Neagu 2013: 58). Obama attacks McCain using two kinds of metaphor: ad hominem, when he criticizes his support of the previous government’s policies and slippery slope when he says that if McCain were to become president, he would continue with Bush’s poor policies (going from bad to worse).6 McCain’s criticism of Obama is aimed at his poor experience and flouts the Modesty Maxim (Leech 1983) to highlight his own expertise (Neagu 2013: 79). In turn, Rubalcaba accuses Rajoy of having a hidden agenda and Rajoy 6. Both ad hominem and slippery slope are fallacies; the former is defined by Neagu (2013: 24), using Brown and Levinson’s (1987) politeness theory terms, as “face-threatening acts to the opponent’s positive face”, and the latter when “it is claimed that it [a measure] will turn things from bad to worse” (Neagu 2013: 25).

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accuses Rubalcaba of not telling the truth (notice that they both use rhetorical questions to phrase their accusations): (9) (Rubalcaba to Rajoy) ¿Va usted a bajar [down is bad] la presentación por desempleo, sí o no? (‘Are you going to decrease the unemployment benefits, yes or no?’) (10) (Rajoy to Rubalcaba) Por tanto, señor Pérez Rubalcaba, ¿qué nos cuenta [electoral promises are tales] ahora? ¿Nos cuenta [electoral promises are tales] que hará lo contrario de lo que hizo? (‘Therefore, Mr. Pérez Rubalcaba, what are you telling us now? Are you telling us that you’ll do the opposite of what you did?’)

The verb contar in Spanish is used when telling stories or fairy tales to children and, thus, it is used to connote that one is not telling the truth. Therefore, if electoral promises are evaluated as untruthful, the verb contar (‘telling tales’) is employed instead of decir (‘tell’), which does not have that negative connotation. The use of that expression triggers the metaphor electoral promises are tales. Neagu’s claims regarding the use of metaphor by election candidates in pre-­ electoral debates seems most relevant to conclude this section: (…) the use of certain metaphorical linguistic expressions facilitates the overall argumentative structure of the critical discussion (….). Recurrent metaphors (…) contribute to the division of the text into units of thought that are clearly framed as critical discussions. My contention is that by following the metaphorical mappings (…) and analyzing the extent to which the patterns are preserved or altered reveals the arguer’s mental connections that he (sic.) makes in order to take advantage of the situation.  (Neagu 2013: 90–91)

Thus, politicians use metaphorical expressions strategically to win (swing) voters. In the following section, the fourth research question is tackled: Do metaphors in Spanish carry an evaluative load? 8. The interplay between metaphor and evaluation in the Spanish debate As a result of previous research (Cabrejas-Peñuelas & Díez-Prados 2014; Díez-­ Prados & Cabrejas-Peñuelas in preparation), the evaluative devices of the debate had been analysed according to two theoretical frameworks: Martin and White’s (2005) Appraisal Theory and Hunston’s (2000) Evaluation model. The results of the Appraisal analysis (Cabrejas-Peñuelas & Díez-Prados 2014) showed that, although each candidate had different preferences in the choice of evaluative devices, they both used them as a strategy to win electoral votes while deprecating



Metaphor and evaluation in pre-electoral debates 235

the opposing party and, therefore, minimizing their opponents’ chances of winning the elections. In addition, and despite their opposing ideology, they both seemed to defend those policies that are more widely accepted in order not to risk losing voters: public services and egalitarian social policies. Furthermore, Hunston’s analysis (Díez-Prados & Cabrejas-Peñuelas in preparation) revealed that Informing (i.e. alignment between the words of the text and the world) was overwhelmingly more present than Focusing (i.e. description of the current event, that is, the debate itself), and among the different types of statements that Hunston distinguishes (World-reflecting, which includes facts/events, interpretations and assessments versus World-creating, which comprises assumptions, hypotheses and recommendations), World-reflecting were more extensively used than world-­creating ones in the debate as a whole.7 However, the two candidates showed opposite preferences: while Rajoy outnumbered Rubalcaba in the use of World-­reflecting statements (80.6% in Rajoy versus 71% in Rubalcaba), Rubalcaba outnumbered Rajoy in the case of World-creating ones (28.6% in Rubalcaba versus 19.4% in Rajoy). Rajoy focused on discrediting the then present PSOE government that Rubalcaba was part of, while this latter focused his interventions on explaining his future policies were he to become the new president. Rajoy’s was thus a more ‘down to earth’ discourse, dealing with present acts (particularly, the opposite party’s wrong policies) while Rubalcaba’s remained in the realm of intentions for future action (how he would remedy the critical situation of the time). While the frequency of metaphorical expressions is highly equivalent in both Rajoy and Rubalcaba, the frequency of evaluation devices in the debate sections selected (i.e. Introduction and Economy & Employment) is different: higher figures of evaluative devices are found in Rajoy’s than in Rubalcaba’s metaphorical expressions (3.17 evaluative devices per metaphor in Rajoy versus 2.70 evaluative devices per metaphor in Rubalcaba). As can be seen in Table 2, the type of evaluative devices employed in their metaphorical expressions by each candidate is also different: most of Rajoy’s statements (51.89%) are Assessments (i.e. opinions open to disagreement) while Rubalcaba favours (33.28% of all statements) Recommendation (i.e. proposals for future course of action). Assessments are World-reflecting statements and Recommendations are World-creating ones (Hunston 2000); therefore, Rajoy’s down-toearth stance mentioned before can also be seen in the Economy & Employment section; Rajoy mainly uses his turn to criticize and discredit the government for the present state of affairs, while Rubalcaba prefers to fill his interventions with proposals for future action and with questions addressed to his interlocutor with the aim of making him unveil his (hidden) intentions if he wins the elections. 7. For a detailed quantitative analysis see Díez-Prados and Cabrejas-Peñuelas (in preparation).

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Table 2.  Results for the interplay between metaphors and evaluation Evaluation in Rajoy

Evaluation in Rubalcaba

Hunston’s evaluation model Assessment 41 (51.89%) Recommendation 19 Fact/Event 13 Hypothetical  2 Interpretation  4 Total 79

Assessment 19 Recommendation 24 (33.28%) Fact/Event 14 Hypothetical  8 Interpretation  4 Assumption  1 Total 70

Appraisal model Attitude Negative Positive Appreciation 39 53 Judgement 52 28 Affect  1  5 Subtotals 92 86 Total: 178

Attitude Negative Positive Appreciation 38 34 Judgement 37 12 Affect  0  1 Subtotals 75 47 Total: 122

Total evaluative devices: 257 Total metaphors: 81 Evaluative devices/metaphors: 3.17

Total evaluative devices: 192 Total metaphors: 71 Evaluative devices/metaphors: 2.70

Following, some examples of the interplay between evaluation and metaphor are examined (the linguistic realization of the metaphor is indicated in italics and the Appraisal by bold with the type of evaluation included in square brackets): (11) (also example (1)) (…) quiero salir al paso de las excusas [Judgement: Negative] del Señor Pérez Rubalcaba. (‘I want to forestall/waylay Mr. Pérez Rubalcaba’s excuses’).

In example (11), the metaphorical expression and the evaluative terms go hand in hand: the negative evaluation is a prepositional complement of the metaphorical expression. In the next example, metaphorical and evaluative expressions are also in close proximity, or even unified in the term crisis (bold and italics). (12) (also example (4)) Hay más de 5 millones de españoles que quieren trabajar y que no pueden [Judgement: Negative] – esa es la expresión [metaphor] más brutal [Appreciation: Negative] de esta crisis [Appreciation: Negative and metaphorical expression]. (‘There are more than 5 million Spaniards who want to work but can’t – that’s the most brutal expression of this crisis’).



Metaphor and evaluation in pre-electoral debates 237

One of the most extensively-evaluated utterances by Rajoy is the following Assessment, where the conceptual metaphor governing is caring (for the people), typical of a Nurturant Parent, is realized by the evaluative items interesa (‘concerns’), importa (‘worries’), repeated several types: (13) Lo único que me interesa [Affect: Positive] de ese impuesto [Appreciation: Negative] para los bancos, aparte de que me lo explique usted, si lo tiene a bien, es si eso sirve [Judgement: Positive] para que haya más crédito [Appreciation: Positive] en España, porque a mí eso sí que me importa [Affect: Positive]. Si eso sirve [Judgement: Positive] para que el crédito [Appreciation: Positive] sea más barato [Appreciation: Positive], porque a mí eso sí que me importa [Affect: Positive]. Si eso sirve para que las comisiones de los bancos sean menores, porque eso a mí sí que me importa [Affect: Positive]. Y si eso sirve [Judgement: Positive] para crear [Judgement: Positive] empleo [Appreciation: Positive], eso es lo que me importa [Affect: Positive], señor Pérez Rubalcaba. (‘The only thing I am interested in about that tax for Banks, apart from an explanation on your part, if you don’t mind, is if that is useful to have more credit in Spain, because that’s what worries/concerns me. If that is useful for the credit to be cheaper, because that’s what I’m concerned about. If that is useful for the commissions to be lower, because that’s what worries me. And if that is useful to create employment, that’s what worries me, Mr. Pérez Rubalcaba’).

Whenever an expression is both italics and bold, it is because the linguistic evidence of the metaphor and the evaluation device (in terms of Appraisal) coincide. In this case, Affect (which ‘deals with resources for construing emotional reactions’, Martin & White 2005: 35) endows the metaphor governing is caring with a personal stance. This reinforces the idea mentioned by different authors that metaphor fulfils an evaluative function. By repeating the metaphor in each sentence (eso sí que me importa ‘that’s what worries me/that’s what I’m concerned about’), Rajoy reinforces the idea that he does feel concern for his people, which presents him as a responsible prospective president, adopting the role of a Nurturant Parent. A representative example of Rubalcaba in which the metaphor is also rife with evaluation is the following statement analysed as Fact/Event according to Hunston’s (2000) model, which elaborates on the metaphor economy is a sick human being and the government is a doctor:

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(14) Con un símil biológico, digamos que hemos sometido al enfermo a una dieta de adelgazamiento y nos hemos pasado [Judgement: Negative], estamos llegando a la anemia [Appreciation: Negative]. Esta anemia [Appreciation: Negative] no se cura [Judgement: Negative] con más adelgazamiento [Appreciation: Negative], sino con vitaminas [Appreciation: Postive]. (‘Using a biological comparison, let’s say we have subjected the patient to a weight loss treatment and we have gone too far, we are reaching anemia. This anaemia can’t be cured with more weight loss but with vitamins’).

In this example, there is absolute coincidence between evaluation devices and the linguistic expression of metaphors. Furthermore, example (14) illustrates clearly how metaphors are elaborated by the politician: economy is a sick human being, and, thus, needs a treatment (an economic cutback is a weight loss treatment), but the treatment provided is proving inefficient because it has provoked anemia (lack of funds is lack of red blood cells or hemoglobin) and, therefore, another treatment is needed: vitamins (economic funding is a vitamin). The examples in this section show how metaphor and evaluation interplay. By combining the analyses carried out according to the frameworks of Appraisal Theory (Martin & White 2005) and Conceptual Metaphor Theory (Lakoff & Johnson 1980) that connection clearly arises since the manifestations of both phenomena are in close syntactic and semantic proximity or even converge. In the next and final section the main conclusions derived from the present study are presented. 9. Conclusions This analysis of Spanish political language in a pre-election debate has revealed that this type of discourse is rife with both evaluation and metaphors and that, on many occasions, such linguistic phenomena coincide. When analysing which metaphors each candidate used, the results show that they do not present significant differences: both total amounts of target domain types and metaphorical expressions are fairly close (20 vs 16 types and 81 vs 71 tokens) and the same 9 target domains are “metaphorised” by both of them. Although the section analysed was Economy & Employment, only Rajoy elaborated metaphors with the target domain (un)employment. The reason seems to be the intention by the conservative leader to depreciate the role of the government by blaming them for the high unemployment rates. The liberal candidate, Rubalcaba, tries to avoid the topic of unemployment as self-defence and only mentions unemployment benefits to



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attack the conservative party portraying it as a strict father (i.e. governing is cutting), who intends to cut that social entitlement. Curiously enough, economy is multifaceted in Rajoy’s metaphorical repertoire (all levels in the great chain of being metaphor) and for Rubalcaba it is a journey and an ill human being, while the government is the doctor. By portraying economy as such, the responsibility for who is to blame is diluted and the PSOE Government is depicted as a saviour. Even though Lakoff (1996/2002) characterizes right-wing parties, like the PP, as adherent to a strict father metaphorical thinking and left-wing parties, like the PSOE, as defending of the nurturant parent metaphor, this study has found that both debaters actually present themselves, in general, as nurturant parents and accuse the other of being strict fathers (applying cuts in social entitlements or not providing working opportunities). Thus, rather than defending their own ideological traits, candidates in the debate seem more concerned with presenting themselves in a way they think would make them gain more voters to their side, not scaring away the audience by mentioning unpopular policies and ignoring their credibility (ethos in Aristotelian terms). The main conclusions drawn from the comparative analysis between Spanish and American debates indicate that the world depicted in them is somewhat similar and partly different. Three coincidental target domains can be found in both: economy, governing and politics; the rest of the target domains seem to correspond to idiosyncratic realities of each country (e.g. one of the most prominent U.S. concerns was the Iraqi war and there are many metaphors of that type but none in the Spanish debate; likewise, the economy was the most worrying issue in Spain at the time and both debaters abound in metaphorical expressions of this type). In terms of particular metaphorical expressions, the similarity between the American and Spanish candidates in their use of metaphorical expressions seemed more likely related with the fact of being part of the government in power or the opposition rather than due to ideological traits: more similarities were found between Obama and Rajoy (liberal and conservative, respectively) and McCain and Rubalcaba (conservative and liberal, respectively). This may be because their purpose (i.e. wining the elections) was stronger than presenting and defending their political agendas, as would be expected in a pre-electoral debate. It could also be the case that right and left are culturally dependent factors and Obama may be closer ideologically to Rajoy than to Rubalcaba. This notwithstanding, McCain and Rubalcaba’s ideological proximity may be harder to justify. In general, all politicians switch between the Strict Father and the Nurturant Parent models, despite the fact that capitalist moral politics praise the former and daunt the latter. This seems to be a discourse strategy to win the elections.

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As regards the cross-linguistic comparison of metaphors, at times the same conceptual metaphor and equivalent expressions are found (e.g. the crisis is a container) and other times metaphors are simply different. In general, metaphors are used by politicians in both the American and Spanish debates to portray themselves as the ideal candidate and accuse the opponent of being a dangerous solution to the country’s problems if they win the elections. Thus, the present chapter shows through empirical investigation of the metaphors employed that the argumentative and persuasive strategies used by politicians depend more on whether one is in office or is attempting to be in office rather than on the ideology of their political parties. Finally, the use of metaphors, in general, seem to back up and reinforce the evaluation expressed via evaluative devices; in fact, in many occasions, terms used in metaphorical expressions were also coded as Appraised terms, and most utterances analysed as metaphorical were classified as one of the possible statements in Hunston’s evaluation model. Evaluation was, however, slightly different in Rajoy and Rubalcaba: while Rajoy favoured Assessments discrediting the Government (down-to-earth position), Rubalcaba remained in the realm of Recommendations speaking of his future intentions and demanding Rajoy to speak about his (i.e. World-creating devices). This positioning may be one important factor why Rajoy sounded more convincing and probably won more swing voters to his side, as results in the November elections showed, since they were overwhelmingly won by the conservative party.

Acknowledgements The present study has been funded by the research project EMO-FUDETT: PROPER (reference code FFI2013-47792-C2-2-P), granted by the Spanish Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad (Ministy of Economy and Competitiveness).

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Appendix Rajoy’s metaphorical reasoning

Rubalcaba’s metaphorical reasoning

bussiness medium-sized businesses are hope & recuperation credit credit is a traveller crisis the financial crisis is language the financial crisis is a disease debate the debate is informing the electorate (not doing it is doing politics is secrecy/ conspiracy) the debate is a journey dismissal dismissal is a business (discount in price) economy economy is a hurt human being economy is a vehicle economy is a vertical movement (up is good/down is bad) finance is a building (that needs re-structuring) a (growing) economy is a plant economy is a human (growing) being finance is a machine economic politics is order (governing is providing certainty, security, rules) → strict father metaphor economy is a building economy is security economy is a gambling game economy is a liquid fashion being in fashion is good flexibility lack of flexibility is being old-fashion lack of flexibility is generating unemployment flexibility is good governing governing is healing governing is caring (for the people) → nurturant parent metaphor governing is coherence (the interlocutor is incoherent) governing is consistency/coherence governing is helping governing is tightening/cutting

companies companies are vehicles (the government is a nurturant parent) credit giving credit is opening the faucet (credit is water) (the government is a nurturant parent) crisis the financial crisis is a container financial problems is a sickness (economic funding is a medical treatment) debate a debate is a fight a debate is a journey the debate is informing the electorate (the debate is fair play) down down is bad economy bank finance is equilibrium non-viable economic products are harmful/ dangerous products viable economic products are beneficial economy is a journey (capitalizing is a loss/ getting lost) economy is a sick human being (non-volitional, non-intentional) the government is a doctor (elaboration of metaphor for treatment: the treatment is ineffective; an economic cutback is a weight loss treatment; Treatment is proving inefficient (it has provoked anemia: lack of funds is lack of red blood cells or hemoglobin; economic funding is a vitamin). economy is a journey: economy is disoriented economy is equilibrium: an unhealthy economy is disequilibrium economy is equilibrium: financial crisis is disequilibrium europe present day europe is europe after ww2 (the government is a nurturant parent) flexibility flexibility is cutting (flexibility is bad) governing governing is discretion governing is providing safety (nurturant parent metaphor) governing/doing politics is a driving a vehicle

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Rajoy’s metaphorical reasoning

Rubalcaba’s metaphorical reasoning

governing is a journey (governing correctly is being oriented) governing is being a strict father governing is being a nurturant parent governing is moral authority (strict father metaphor) governing is healing (politicians are doctors/ a good doctor is a good diagnostician) governing is financing government governing is healing (moral boundaries metaphor) the government is a doctor (an incompetent doctor) the government is a building hardening hardening and lessening (unemployment conditions) are bad housing the housing bubble is a recurrent topic (=mantra) the housing market is a bubble less less is bad less is down life life is a journey: (economic) difficulties are obstacles in the way norm the norm is good/going against the current is bad politics doing politics is building politics is a journey politics is morality (liberal idology is inmoral) (doing) politics is a proceeding (strict father model) politics is a journey politics is a gambling game politics is a journey (the present track is the wrong track/the present track is an uncertain path) politics is restriction (strict father metaphor)

governing/doing politics is a journey (adjusting expenses is an obstacle in the way) governing is cutting governing is (demanding) cooperation (from the people) governing is creating (employment) protecting (nurturant parent metaphor) governing is healing governing is saving/adjusting costs (strict father metaphor) governing/doing politics is saving governing is creating (employment) (nurturant parent metaphor) governing is reducing/excluding (strict father metaphor) governing is being a strict father government the government is a nurturant parent lack of education and job is a trap (the government is a nurturant parent) the government is a nurturant parent housing declaring a land apt for building is a blessing by the pope (ironical hyperbole) the (property) law is a bubble the housing market is a bubble (elaboration: burst the bubble/make the bubble grow) international relations international negotiations are arguments less less (employment) is bad life life is a journey patrimony patrimony is a person: the person is hurt (elaborated metaphor from activos tóxicos ‘toxic assets’) paying taxes taxes are burdens paying taxes is ethical paying taxes is a burden (especially for small businesses)/governing is lightening taxes to the weakest (nurturant parent metaphor) politics politics is a journey politics is contention (strict parent metaphor?) the general secretary is a father and the other members of the party are his children the political party is a family politics is (imposing) cooperation

A text-world account of temporal worldbuilding strategies in Spanish and English Jane Lugea

University of Huddersfield

Text World Theory (Werth 1999; Gavins 2007) is a cognitive stylistic model that aims to describe how discourse participants create a mental representation of language in use. First designed for the analysis of individual texts, this chapter demonstrates how it can also be used in the cross-linguistic analysis of narrative strategies. This chapter is based on a wider research project which applied Text World Theory to a comparable corpus of ‘frog story’ narratives revealing differences between the ways in which Spanish and English speakers construct the ‘same’ narrative text-world. The focus here is on the narrators’ temporal world-­ building strategies only, as choices in tense were fundamental in laying the foundations for other world-building strategies. The results reveal interesting cross-­linguistic and dialectal differences in temporal world-building strategies and point to uses of tenses for non-temporal means. Keywords: Text World Theory, Spanish, English, corpus, spoken narrative, frog stories, tense, temporality, dialect

1. Introduction This chapter explores how Spanish and English speakers use the linguistic means available to them to construct a narrative text-world, with particular attention to their temporal world-building strategies. The cognitive stylistic framework, Text World Theory (Gavins 2007; Werth 1995a; Werth 1999), provides a method for the qualitative analysis of the data. The data was gathered through the frog story methodology (Bamberg 1985; Berman & Slobin 1994; Strömqvist & Verhoeven 2004), which uses a wordless picture book to elicit narratives from speakers of the given languages. While a qualitative contrastive study is only capable of revealing how temporal world-building is performed in those languages, it would also be interesting to see how often temporal deictic forms are used, which would doi 10.1075/pbns.262.10lug © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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reveal native-speaker preferences in temporal deixis and strategies in narrative world-building. To this end, the qualitative text-world analysis is supported by a quantitative analysis of the deictic markers, whereby the web-based programme VISL (Institute of Language and Communication (ISK)) is employed to tag the corpus and AntConc software (Anthony 2004) to analyse it. This chapter stems from a larger study into the full gamut of world-building strategies used by the narrators, where their use of deictic and modal marker was explored in full (Lugea forthcoming), but the focus here is on the temporal world-building strategies. This is because temporality was found to be the most fruitful category in terms of variation and also fundamental in determining patterned choices on other deictic and conceptual levels (e.g. spatial, personal and modal). Thus far, Text World Theory has been used to analyse a range of texts, including advertising discourse (Hidalgo Downing 2003), poems (Giovanelli 2013; Lahey 2006; Semino 1997; Semino 2010), plays (Cruickshank & Lahey 2010), magazine interviews, audio tourist guides and football commentary (Gavins 2007). The applications of the model to new texts have led to developments and improvements in the way it handles different kinds of discourse and various phenomena, including modality (Gavins 2005), metaphor (Werth 1994) and directly represented discourse (Lugea 2013). Text World Theory was designed in and for the analysis of English, but there are two principal reasons why it is adaptable for the analysis of languages other than English. Firstly, Text World Theory deals with universal functional categories such as deixis, modality, hypotheticality and metaphor (rather than formal properties of language) and so can be adapted to suit the expression of these phenomena in a given language. Secondly, cross-linguistic research is difficult because of the simple fact that every language is a distinct semiotic system and used in a different cultural context; however, as humans we all share a body and mind through which we experience the world and to some extent our ‘cognitive experience’ is universal (Jakobson 2000: 115). Therefore, I argue that a cognitive approach to discourse analysis, such as Text World Theory, is best suited to cross-linguistic discourse analysis. I have adapted Text World Theory for the analysis of Spanish (for a full account, see Lugea forthcoming), and in order to develop and test my efforts, have used the model to analyse a corpus of Spanish and English spoken narratives.1 1. María Dolores Porto (University of Alcalá) and Manuela Romano (Autónoma University of Madrid) are working on a research project entitled ‘A Sociocognitive Approach to Oral Narratives’, where Text World Theory is one of a number of models they use to analyse spoken and written narratives. Their research, as yet unpublished, emphasises what I argue for here: the potential for adapting Text World Theory for the analysis of Spanish discourse, and its capacity to deal with spoken narrative.



A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 247

I chose to analyse spoken narratives for several reasons. Text World Theory was developed in English using mainly narrative discourse as data and as such has developed a sophisticated toolkit for the analysis of narrative (first expounded in Werth 1999). Gavins (2000, 2003, 2013) has applied Text World Theory to absurd narrative fiction, as the model allows for the examination of imaginary worlds and their relationship to the context of production as well as the textual manipulation of reader’s expectations and knowledge. Meanwhile, Hidalgo Downing (2000) has explored how negated worlds are a key part of Heller’s novel Catch 22 and how deixis is key in delimiting text-worlds in Alice in Wonderland (2002). Indeed, deixis is one of the linguistic features that Text World Theory is useful for analysing and, in this chapter, I concentrate on the use of temporal deixis in narrative as realised through tense and temporal adverbs. However, as the work referenced above reveals, thus far the model has mostly been applied to written narrative prose and has largely neglected spoken discourse, narrative or otherwise. This is despite Werth’s claim of the model’s applicability to all text types, spoken and written (1999). As such, the present aim is to test Werth’s claims by application of the model to not only a new language, but to spoken data and to many retellings of the ‘same’ narrative, thus testing the model’s replicability. Furthermore, the analysis may reveal patterns in the ways in which Spanish and English speakers use temporal deixis to construct the spoken narrative text-­worlds. This novel application of Text World Theory, then, goes beyond the search for style in individual texts or genres, to explore the ‘rhetorical style’ (Slobin 2004: 220) of the narrators in the given languages, Spanish and English. The structure of this chapter is as follows: Section 2 describes Text World Theory, contextualising the framework with regard to other cognitive models of discourse processing and world-based theories; Section 3 outlines the frog story method and outline the principles behind the data collection and processing; Section 4 is called ‘Departures from the text-world’ because it both describes some of the worlds that stem from the initial text-world (including temporal world-­ switches) and outlines my alternative diagramming method; Section 5 constitutes the analysis of the temporal world-building in the frog story data, using qualitative and quantitative results; and, finally, Section 6 summarises my findings on Spanish and English temporal discourse strategies and evaluates the efficacy of the text-­world model as a socio-cognitive approach in comparing temporal discourse strategies cross-linguistically.

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2. Text World Theory Paul Werth began devising this cognitive framework in the late 1980s and early 1990s, claiming to have discovered a way to describe and evaluate the mental representation of discourse that language users generate when participating in discourse. Before his untimely death in 1995, he had published the basics of his theory (1992; 1994; 1995a; 1995b), but the full account was left incomplete, in manuscript form. Such was the academic interest in the promise of Werth’s theory, that stylistician Mick Short undertook the preparation of the manuscript for posthumous publication (Werth 1999). The publication sparked off much interest from scholars and the theory continues to grow in popularity today, being refined and tested amongst discourse analysts and cognitive stylisticians. 2.1

Theoretical origins and context

The use of language to create a ‘world’ has formed the basis of several world-based theories in disciplines from philosophy, literary semiotics, and several branches of linguistics, all of which have had an influence on the development of Text World Theory. In philosophy, possible worlds theorists used the concept of a ‘possible world’ to describe an alternative reality in which a proposition – which may not hold true in the real world – can be applied (Lewis 1973; Rescher 1979; Werth 1981). In literary semiotics, possible worlds theory is useful in accounting for the truth value of fiction, which can diverge from reality in significant and patterned ways (Ryan 1991a, 1991b). Stylisticians examining literary texts have used the notion of the possible world to examine how language can be used to delineate spaces and realities within a text and in relating a text to the context of production and reception. Text linguists, not limiting their analyses to literary texts, have also employed the term ‘world’ to refer to the cognitive construct that users make when participating in discourse. The text linguists’ emphasis was on the discourse participants’ cognitive processes and their joint contribution to the creation of a text world. They also considered our means of storing and retrieving knowledge, as activated by the discourse process itself (Cook 1994; De Beaugrande 1980; van Dijk & Kintsch 1983). Noting the general agreement amongst linguists from various traditions about the importance of the knowledge that participants bring to the discourse situation, as well as the significance of the immediate context, Werth states that, “[m]ost are agreed that whatever precise form the system takes, it is mentally represented, so that knowledge, situations, contexts are mental constructs rather than reflections of an outside reality” (1999: 126–127). Therefore, the notion of possible worlds was developed by linguists working in discourse and cognition in



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order to account for the mental representations of the discourse that users create together, as influenced by the situational context. It is this approach in particular that was the foundation of Werth’s Text World Theory, and he attributes the term ‘text-­world’ to text linguist Teun van Dijk (cf. Werth 1990). Nevertheless, the contributions that logicians and narratologists have made regarding possible worlds can aid in the application of Text World Theory, where they may enhance the analysis of fictional worlds especially. In laying the theoretical foundations of his framework, Werth describes it as based on a ‘Cognitive Discourse Grammar’ (1999: 50). A Cognitive Discourse Grammar entails an understanding of language as shaped by human experience, and a deliberate and joint effort on behalf of all discourse participants to build a world within which the propositions advanced are coherent and relevant. This two-pronged approach has several attractive aspects for this research project. First, studying the cognition of deictic reference across two languages allows me to over-ride the formal differences between Spanish and English, by focussing on the cognitive processes involved in the production and reception of deictic terms. Werth asserts Text World Theory’s commitment to experientialism: “language and thought are not founded on timeless categories […] but rather on human experience. Thus our view of the world and the things it contains […], is founded on the way we humans interact with the world” (1999: 40, author’s italics). Such an approach to language is beneficial both to the study of deixis, as it reflects on human interaction with the world around us, and to a cross-linguistic study, as it considers the form of the language as the result of human experience, which is universal (see Section 1 of this chapter and Lugea, forthcoming, for a vindication of using a cognitive approach in interlingual studies). Second, studying discourse entails making a commitment to the importance of context on the production and reception of language. Such an approach is particularly important here, as research on deixis is often based only on decontextualised sentences, which is contrary to the fundamentals of the phenomenon. Furthermore, by studying language at the macro-level rather than individual utterances, Text World Theory can be used to account for all the deictic shifts across a stretch of discourse. At this point it is also worth briefly comparing Text World Theory to another linguistic model that posits a cognitive ‘space’ in which propositions are advanced. Fauconnier’s (1994) Mental Space Theory is not rooted in text linguistics, but it is founded in cognitive principles, whereby the linguistic cues prompt cognitive representations of discourse in the minds of readers or hearers. As with Text World Theory and the other ‘worlds’ models outlined above, all of which Fauconnier calls “partitioning theories” (1994: xxxvi), departures are made from one space to another through various linguistic cues, which are termed space-builders. These can take the form of spatio-temporal changes – meaning deixis also plays a crucial

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role in building mental spaces (Otaola Olano 2006) – or modal or hypothetical expressions. Also like text-worlds, mental spaces are “structured incrementable sets” (Fauconnier 1994: 16) that contain continually updated elements and relations between the spaces. Mental Space Theory has been hugely influential in the last few decades, provoking much more research activity than the lesser-known Text World Theory. However, a distinguishing feature of Text World Theory is that all discourse participants – speaker and hearers, writers and readers – contribute to the textworld, which is jointly negotiated and shared between them. Because Text World Theory understands discourse as a two-way process of representation, Giovanelli (2013: 15), following Segal (1995), describes it as a ‘structured representation theory’, like Fillmore’s Frame Semantics (1977, 1982, 1985) and Schema Theory (Schank & Abelson 1977). These theories are distinguished from ‘tracking process theories’ (2013: 14), which examine the process by which the recipients-­only engage with a text and include possible worlds (Ryan 1991b), Contextual Frame Theory (Emmott 1994, 1997), Deictic Shift Theory (Segal 1995) and Mental Space Theory (Fauconnier 1994). Thus, unlike mental spaces, a text-world analysis deals with the two-way process of engagement in meaning construction (between producers and receivers) and is more useful for this study, which considers the speakers’ choices in constructing the narrative text-worlds. There are also other key differences between Mental Space Theory and Text World Theory that make the latter a more suitable framework for the present study. As explained above, Text World Theory is a Cognitive Discourse Grammar, wherein the context of production and reception is a crucial component (see Section 3.2 below), and one which is particularly useful for a study of deixis in interaction such as this. Although Werth described his notion of the text-­world as a version of a mental space (1992, 1999), he also pointed out a crucial difference: Mental Space Theory emphasises the cognitive representation of language, yet was not designed within a discourse perspective, which he believed Mental Space Theory would benefit from (1999: 182). Despite developments of Mental Space Theory towards the analysis of discourse and interaction (see Oakley & Hougaard 2008), as Oakley and Hougaard explain, “MSCI [Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration Theory] is not in itself a theory of discourse; rather, it is a theory of human cognition and conceptualization that is supposed to suggest ways to theorize about and model the ‘mental word’ of discourse in its broadest sense” (2008: 13). One of the drawbacks for Mental Space Theory in not being founded on a discourse perspective is that it was not designed to deal with longer stretches of discourse and instead is best suited to sentence-length utterances. This is an important caveat for research such as this which examines narrative data of considerable length. Dancygier (2008) goes some way to addressing this shortcoming

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by developing Mental Space Theory to deal with novel-length fictional narratives. However, the elements that she adds to MSCI, including ‘narrative spaces’, are already inherent in the text-world framework. What is more, Text World Theory offers a single framework for the analysis of all kinds of discourse and is not text type specific. As such, the development of Text World Theory here and in other research, has further reaching applications in various kinds and lengths of discourse production and reception. 2.2

The discourse-world

The first level of analysis within Text World Theory incorporates the immediate contextual environment: the discourse-world, the actual world surrounding the ‘discourse participants’ who partake in communication. The discourse-world where the language event takes place can take various different formats. In a faceto-face communication the discourse participants share temporal and spatial coordinates; these are known as ‘shared’ discourse-worlds. In a ‘split’ discourse-­world there is a spatial and/or temporal distance between the discourse participants. Although at the time of recording the frog stories, the narrator and investigator will have inhabited a shared discourse-world, I based my text world diagrams on the frog story transcripts, and so analyses are based on a split discourse-­world. Not only does the discourse-world include the participants and the entities around them, but all the perceptual, experiential, linguistic and cultural knowledge they bring to the situation. By including the discourse situation as a level of analysis, Text World Theory is also invaluable to a study of deixis as it implicitly accounts for context, the area in which the meaning of deictic terms and modal markers are often resolved. Of course, neither the discourse participant nor the text-­world analyst can consider every aspect of the context or use all the knowledge they possess in a given stretch of discourse. In order to limit the scope of how we deal with context and knowledge in discourse, Werth provided several principles that govern language in use. One example is the principle of text-­driveness; according to this principle, discourse participants only call to mind those aspects of their knowledge and the context that the text-world requires. In this way, Text World Theory is related to the ‘scripts’ and ‘schemas’ of cognitive psychology (Schank & Abelson 1977), whereby, once experienced, information is stored in a structured set and the activation of one aspect will call to mind the entire set of knowledge that surrounds it. So before we even begin to look at the text-world itself, it is clear that Text World Theory, as a Cognitive Discourse Grammar, is strongly based on the cognitive processes discourse participants go through in the production and reception

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of language, encompassing features of the social context. At the discourse-world level, it does indeed ‘tackle all the furniture of the earth and the heavens’ (Werth 1999: 17) but it also offers principles to refine and control the contextual information and knowledge activated in discourse. As Stockwell explains; Text World Theory is innovative, then, firstly in providing a specification of how contextual knowledge is actually managed economically; secondly, in placing text and context inseparably together as part of a cognitive process; and thirdly, because it is founded not on the analysis of sentences but on entire texts and the worlds they create in the minds of readers.  (2002: 137)

Thus, Text World Theory is ideal for the exploration of temporal deixis in the frog stories because it has the capacity to deal with the discourse situation in which deixis is grounded in a wholly socio-cognitive approach. Now we turn to look at the data collected in Section 3, before examining the use of Text World Theory as a method for analysing the data in Section 4. 3. The frog stories The difficulty with comparing how Spanish and English speakers build narrative text-­worlds is in finding comparable data. The ‘frog story’ method was first used in a PhD thesis some decades ago (Bamberg 1985), and has since become a popular narrative elicitation method in linguistic research. The methodology uses a wordless picture book (Meyer 2003) that tells the story of a little boy and his dog on a hunt for their frog, and the resulting spoken narratives have come to be known as ‘the frog stories’. Berman and Slobin (1994) applied the frog story methodology to speakers of different ages in five languages – English, Spanish, German, Turkish and Hebrew – to explore how they developed the skills to relate events in narrative. Since then, frog story research has flourished; so much so, that twenty years after their original publication, a new volume detailing all the frog story research since then has been published (Strömqvist & Verhoeven 2004). The frog story’s success is testament to the simple efficacy of the methodology, which provides an extra-­ linguistic visual stimulus to elicit cross-linguistic comparable data. The frog story methodology offers a promising solution when examining cross-linguistic temporal discourse strategies, as it allows for the elicitation of narratives that have roughly the same textual content, but leaves the deictic choices down to the narrator’s preference.



3.1

A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 253

The frog story corpus design

From the data already gathered by frog story researchers and available through CHILDES (CHILDES 2015; MacWhinney 2000), it was possible to amass twelve adult Spanish speakers’ and twelve adult English speakers’ frog story narrations for use in this study. The language varieties available were Peninsular Spanish and American English. The temporal deictic features to be analysed (e.g. tense markings and temporal adverbs) are so frequent in natural language that a vast corpus is not necessary to find them in proliferation (Biber 1993). Nevertheless, I sought to expand the corpus by recording and transcribing more frog stories to improve the results by providing a more current representation of Spanish and English and by recording other varieties of both languages to widen the sample and strengthen the reliability of the results. Of course by gathering more data it is inevitable that any further recordings of the frog stories are separated from the originals by nearly two decades. It is recommended that ten years is the maximum time difference in data in order to make it comparable (Meyer 2002: 45), and the data collected for this project exceeds that time limit. However, the features of interest to this project, temporal deictic markers, are not subject to as great a diachronic change as lexicon, for example (Mair & Leech 2006). Although diachronic differences in the subcorpora are irrelevant, Berman and Slobin suggest that dialectal variation in the frog stories presents a more interesting angle: Dialect differences are an area which could be profitably studied by the comparison of frog stories produced by speakers of variants of these languages – e.g., differences in distribution and use of present perfect in American compared with British English […] and in European compared with South American Spanish.  (1994: 30)

Thus, widening the sample to include British English and Latin American Spanish enables exploration into how temporal world-building strategies may differ between Spanish and English speakers from different sides of the Atlantic. A corpus containing European and North American subcorpora would also allow for the comparison of transatlantic cultural differences in building the narrative textworld, regardless of the particular language spoken. Consequently, a sample of data equal in size to the original was collected from British English and Mexican Spanish adult native speakers. This creates a bilingual corpus, with a subcorpus of 24 Spanish language frog stories and another of 24 English language frog stories. Further subcorpora can be defined in the 24 North American narrators versus the 24 European narrators. The corpus design is summarised in Table 1. The subcorpora are of a comparable length and clause count, as Table 2 shows.

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Table 1.  Corpus design Language

Dialectal variety

Year

No. narrations

Continent

Spanish

Peninsular Mexican American British

1994 2011 1994 2011

12 12 12 12

Europe North America North America Europe

English

Table 2.  Corpus word and clause count Average no. words Total no. words Average no. clauses Total no. clauses

PS

MS

Spanish

AE

BE

English

Corpus total

 565 6764   87 1046

 441 5276   67  801

   503 12 040     77   1847

 645 8098   73  877

 536 6431   71  850

   605 14 529     72   1727

   554 26 569     74.5   3576

Although the English subcorpora have a greater number of words, the Spanish subcorpora have a greater number of clauses. This is down to cross-linguistic differences in the number of boundaries a single motion verb can cross; as Spanish can cross a limited number, Spanish-speakers often have to use a new verb and thus a new clause to express the same event (Aske 1989; Slobin 1996). In contrast, English speakers can use the vast array of path particles available to them (e.g. through, out, across) to extend the one verb over several paths, using fewer clauses as a result. 3.2

The task

In the interests of maximum comparability, this fieldwork followed the same process for audio recording the narrations as Berman and Slobin (1994: 22–25), as far as was possible. The instructions given to the subjects were based on the information Berman and Slobin provide about how they instructed their subjects (1994: 22). By giving each subject the exact same instructions (translated by this investigator), it was ensured that they had a similar understanding of the demands of the task. The instructions directed them to look through the book, to familiarize themselves with the story and to let the investigator know when they felt they understood it, at which point recording would begin. The title of the book had been covered to avoid any language-specific input. The subjects told the story while looking through the book. During the recording, the investigator sat out of view of the pictures directly across from the subject, so as they would have

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Table 3.  Narrator codes Code

Language variety

Recording date

Narrator ID

PS20E MS21B AE20L BE21A

Peninsular Spanish Mexican Spanish American English British English

20th Century 21st Century 20th Century 21st Century

E (i.e. 5th PS narrator) B (i.e. 2nd MS narrator) L (i.e. 12th AE narrator) A (i.e. 1st BE narrator)

to express what they saw verbally and not by pointing. The recording was stopped only when the narrator closed the book. 3.3

Post-processing and transcribing

The recordings were then anonymised to protect the subjects’ identities. I adapted Berman and Slobin’s unique ID codes for the new corpus, resulting for continuity in reference to the narrations, as well as additional specificity for the purposes of the current research. The first letter denotes the language variety and the second the language, e.g. MS is Mexican Spanish and BE is British English. The following number indicates the century in which the data was recorded and the last letter represents the individual narrator from that subcorpus. The codes can be interpreted as shown in Table 3. These codes are used to identify the narrations in the transcriptions and throughout the analysis. I made two kinds of transcriptions of each of the forty-eight frog stories. The first was a ‘simple’ transcription of the newly recorded frog stories that would be easily interpreted by the VISL tagger, allowing for accurate quantitative analysis. The transcription key that I used was partly based on that of the early frog story researchers (Berman & Slobin 1994), although I made some revisions to avoid interrupting words, which would hinder the quantitative corpus analysis. As such, the 1994 transcriptions also required editing, to bring them in line with the 2011 transcriptions. The second kind of transcription for each narration involved individually coded clauses for ease of reference in the qualitative analysis and discussion. This is in line with the original frog story transcriptions, where the narrations are divided into clauses, and each clause is placed on a new line and preceded by a code. Berman and Slobin’s clause coding method is maintained, whereby the narrator’s unique ID code (as explained above) starts each line, is followed by the clause code and then the clause itself. The clause code consists of a two-digit number of the picture being referred to, followed by a three-digit number of the clause in the narration. The following is an extract from the first (A) British English narrator, recorded in the 21st century, narrating in relation to the first picture in the book:

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Narrator: Pic-Clause: BE21A 01-001 so um er- this is a lovely/ story BE21A 01-002 that starts one night BE21A 01-003 when a boy, and his dog before/ bedtime, are in his bedroom BE21A 01-004 and the window is slightly open/ BE21A 01-005 and (then) he’s just getting ready for bed…

This second type of transcription is appropriate for the qualitative analysis, as information about the narrator and the picture (s)he is referring to is readily available and each clause is numbered for ease of reference in discussion. The clause numbers used in this transcription are also used in the text-world diagrams, which constitute the qualitative analysis, so that the user can easily follow the flow of the discourse in the diagrams. 4. Departures from the text-world This section describes how the text-world is constructed and diagrammed by the analyst, from the initial text-world to the various world-switches and subsequent worlds. In 4.1, I explain the adaptations I have made to text-world diagramming (see also Lugea 2013, forthcoming), departing from the established diagramming methods (Werth 1999; Gavins 2007). In Section 4.2, I explain some of the various worlds that can stem from the initial text-world. I focus on deictic world-switches which show changes in temporal coordinates, illustrated with diagrams drawn from my frog story data and using my revised diagramming method. 4.1

The text-world

In Werth’s definition, “a text world is a deictic space, defined initially by the discourse itself, and specifically by the deictic and referential elements in it” (1999: 51). Thus, immediately we can see how important deixis is in delimiting and creating text-worlds. Indeed, deictic markers are described as “world-building elements” or “building blocks” (Gavins 2007: 38), as they set the parameters for the textworld in a real or imagined place, which can be the same as, or different from, the discourse-world. The interactants that exist at text-world level are called ‘enactors’, a term Gavins borrows from Emmott (1992). Enactors can include characters which only exist at the text-world level or they can be ‘counterparts’ of the discourse-­world participants (Fauconnier 1994; Lakoff 1968; cf. Lewis 1968). Text World Theory makes a functional distinction between ‘world-building’ which is



A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 257

carried out by deixis and reference, and ‘function-advancing propositions’, which are those that drive the action forward within the text-world. Although Werth’s model proposed a theory about how discourse might work at the level of mental representation in the minds of its users, integral to his model is a method of diagramming the discourse to capture this mental representation. Previous text-world research has used text boxes and arrows on paper to represent texts under analysis, but the diagrams can get rather unwieldy even for short extracts. I believe that the level of detail and multi-dimensionality required by the text-world diagram is limited in the flat, linear mode of representation the page offers and can only be achieved by computer software. To diagram the frog stories, I employed a software called Visual Understanding Environment (VUE) (Kahle et al. 2003; Kumar & Schwertner 2008; Kumar & Saigal 2005; Kumar & Kahle 2006), which is free to download and compatible with all operating systems. As well as allowing the user to diagram using text, text boxes, arrows, and embedding, it can link to digital content (e.g. sound files and images) in other locations. This allows for a much more multi-modal diagramming method than Text World Theory currently uses, where the frog story pictures and recordings can be included alongside the diagrammed text. Each VUE map includes a ‘map info’ view, where information about the discourse-world can be recorded. Key to the demands of text-world diagramming, the software is capable of storing different parts of the diagram on different layers, which can be individually hidden or combined in view. Not only does it deftly cope with the layered nature of Text World Theory through the multiple dimensions, but the complex diagrams are not confined to the size of a page; the program allows a diagram of any size and the user can zoom in and out of different elements or look at the overall layout. According to text-world diagramming principles as laid out by Werth (1999) and Gavins (2007: 38–44), the world-building information is included at the top of the world (represented by a box) and the core function-advancing information below. However, I list all the text below, a luxury afforded by using software rather than the 2D page we are limited to in print. Figure 1 shows the beginning of the initial text-world of an American English frog story narrative (AE20J), charting the opening sequence of clauses, with world-building information at the top and the function-advancing propositions listed and numbered underneath. Due to the use of present tense, this text-world is in the present time, further specified by deictic temporal adverbs now and adverbial in the beginning. The location is left unspecified, perhaps to be inferred from the events or deemed as evident by the speaker at the time of the recording. The narrators of the frog stories are discourse participants at the discourse-world level and enactors at the text-­world level, counterparts of their real selves. I only include the discourse participants as enactors on the diagram when overt reference is made to the speaker,

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Figure 1.  The initial text-world

addressee or both; that way it is easy to identify a text-world where the narrator takes an active role as enactor, or involves the discourse-world participants in the story. 4.2

World-switches

The division between the upper ‘world-building’ and lower ‘function-advancing’ sections applies to any world that is generated in a new box. These subsequent worlds, represented by further boxes and arrows, can be generated by changes to the deictic coordinates, or the use of modality. Once we go beyond the principal text-­world and its spatio-temporal switches into the realms of modality, hypotheticality and represented discourse, the diagramming becomes more difficult, but the software can deal with the complexity. Gavins uses the term ‘world-switch’ for worlds that differ from the text-world in their deictic coordinates, and ‘modal-worlds’ for those that are the result of modal expressions (2001, 2005, 2007). There are three kinds of deictic world-­ switches: spatial, temporal and spatio-temporal. Temporal world-switches are generated by changes in the temporal parameters of the text-world, namely through temporal adverbs and switches in tense. A spatial world-switch occurs when there is a ‘spatial alternation’, usually marked by a spatial adverb (Werth 1999: 254). Even though ‘person’ is the third core deictic category, alternations in person deixis (e.g. I/you) by interactants do not generate a world-switch because



A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 259

the text-world is built together by all discourse participants. Any spatial, temporal or spatio-temporal world-switch is represented by a new box, linked to the initial text-­world with an arrow (see Figure 2). Using the method briefly outlined in this section, I diagrammed the forty-eight frog story narratives in VUE, which of course are too numerous and extensive to reproduce here. The next section summarises some of the patterns that emerged in the temporal world-building strategies following the quantitative and qualitative analyses. 5. Analysis of temporal world-building During the larger-scale analysis of the data (Lugea forthcoming), it became clear that the time frame chosen by the narrator for the story’s events yielded consistent and systematic influences on the other deictic and modal choices made. For instance, if the narrator chose to set the scene in the past, (s)he tended to opt for other more distal and objective world-builders such as distal demonstratives and (not always, but often) fewer modal and evidential expressions. Conversely, if the narrator chose to relate events as present, (s)he often chose proximate demonstratives and linked the text-world with the discourse-world by a greater use of narratorial presence through modality and personal deixis. Thus, because it seems that the choice of ‘anchor tense’ is fundamental in determining other world-building elements, the analysis in this chapter begins by attending to this aspect of the frog story narratives. Throughout, examples are illustrated using extracts from the text transcripts or the text-world diagrams. As with the original frog story research (Berman & Slobin 1994), the term ‘anchor tense’ is used to refer to the principal time frame in which the story is narrated, be that past or present. In the upper rows of Table 4, the number of narratives that employed past or present as their anchor tense in the text-world are shown. It is clear that while the present was favoured by the vast majority of AE and PS speakers (10/12 in each case) and a small majority of BE speakers (7/12), most MS narrators preferred to use the past as anchor tense (9/12). The third row in the table also shows how often each variety made a temporal world-switch of anchor tense that did not appear to be induced by events internal to the plot, but by external pressures or preferences. While it was not possible to account exhaustively for all the reasons as to why the narrators changed tense, during the diagramming of the frog story narrations it became apparent that there were indeed several different motives for, as well as ways of, switching tense. In order to explain these various temporal world-building strategies, concepts from previous research into

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Table 4.  Temporal world-building  

PS

MS

Spanish BE

AE

English

Total

Anchor present tense Anchor past tense Switch of anchor tense (external to plot) Temporal WS by adverb by backtrack by update by future

10  2  4

 3  9  3

 13  11   7

 7  5  0

10  2  1

17  7  0

 30  18   8

69 19 44  5  2

33 13  2 11  0

102  32  46  16   2

22 12  9  1  0

52 11 35  3  0

75 23 44  4  0

177  55  90  20   2

temporal features of spoken narrative discourse are employed. Incorporating these categories into the text-world model can only serve to refine the analysis of temporal world-building that the framework yields. 5.1

Updates and future worlds

Firstly, Fludernik (1996), using terminology drawn from Labov’s (1972) model of natural narrative, identifies key areas in storytelling (the orientation and the evaluation) where the narrator deviates from the plot proper to take a stance on the events or to remind the interlocutor of what is important or relevant. Romano (2008) found that Spanish narratives are also punctuated by comments, justifications, explanations and background information. Many of the temporal world-switches from past to present in the frog stories can be characterized as representing such discourse strategies and so as to portray their connection of the text-­world to the immediate discourse-world, are called ‘updates’ here. Looking at Table 4, it is no surprise to find the greatest number of updating temporal world-­ switches amongst the MS speakers (10 out of 18, or 56% of all updates), who, as mentioned previously, were the only group to statistically prefer the past as the anchor tense in constructing the text-world. See Figure 2 for an example of a Mexican Spanish narrative using the past as anchor tense and making a temporal world-­switch to the present for the purpose of ‘updating’ the text-world’s relevancy to the discourse-world context. The second kind of tense-driven temporal world-switch that showed interesting results is the one I have categorised in Table 4 as a ‘future’. If the narrators understood the task as simple picture description, they would presumably not refer to future possible events. However, in fictional narrative, the boundary between reality and possibility is already blurred and so narrators can make use of

A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 261



Figure 2.  Temporal world-switch: update

that ambiguity to assert future events as confidently as present or past ones. Only two such cases occurred in this frog story corpus – both amongst the Peninsular Spanish narrators who, at the close of the story, explain what will happen in the future, going beyond the information provided by the pictures. In PS20L, the narrator departs from a present world for a future world, by the following means: (1) PS20L 15-166 se van los tres juntos the three go off together PS20L 15-167 y les dicen adiós and they say goodbye PS20L 15-168 otra vez cuando Can- cuando Ran se escape de- de su habitación again when Can- when Ran should escape from- from his room PS20L 15-169 Federico sabrá Federico will know (FUT) PS20L 15-170 que habrá ido a ver a sus amigas las ranas that he will have gone to see his friends the frogs (FUT)

The fact that only the PS narrators were so involved in the text-world as to predict future events contributes to the picture that emerges later in the analysis of this group as suspending discourse-world deictics and using tense in creative and empathetic ways to build a fictional text-world. 5.2

Backtracks to replace perfective aspect

The third way of switching from anchor tense was to move from present tense to the past, in order to recount an event that happened previously or that caused a current event; Tannen (1979) calls such breaks in temporal sequentiality a ‘backtrack’ and her term is employed here. Of course, a narrator can only make a backtrack to the past from a present position; consequently, as would be expected, the frequency of backtracking temporal world-switches is much higher amongst those language varieties that tended to opt for the present as an anchor tense. It must also be noted that backtracking was very important in this picture-­elicited narrative, as many narrators used the discourse strategy to ‘fill in the gaps’ between

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Figure 3. Temporal world-switch: backtrack

the events illustrated on each page of the picture book. It is to be expected, then, that backtracking would be more frequent in this task than in natural narrative, a caveat that must be kept in mind when interpreting the results. See Figure 3 for an example of an AE narrator backtracking from a present text-world to a past text-­ world, twice across a short stretch of discourse. The AE narrators made a total number of 35 backtracks, counting for 39.3% of the total number of backtracks in the corpus. The text-world diagrams presented no immediately obvious explanation for this large proportion and it was only after carrying out the quantitative corpus analysis that the likely reason became apparent. The total number of present perfect verbs used by BE narrators makes up 7.99% of their present tense verb count, while the present perfect verbs used by AE narrators formed only 2.95% of their present tense verb count. This reflects the well-known fact that AE speakers do not use the perfective aspect as frequently as BE speakers (Biber et al. 1999; Hundt & Smith 2009; Strevens 1972). It appears that the AE speakers revert to the simple past tense to explain events prior to the current event, which requires a backtracking temporal world-­switch in the text-world diagram. It is widely acknowledged that while the perfective aspect remains common in the Peninsular variety, its use is more limited among speakers of Latin American Spanish (Gutiérrez Araus 1995; Harris 1982; Kany 1969; Rojo & Veiga 1999), showing a cross-Atlantic asymmetry in the use of the perfective aspect similar to that of the English language. In line with this, the quantitative analysis of the present corpus shows that perfective predicates made up 8.16% of the PS narrators’ total predicates compared to only 2.75% of the MS narrators’ total predicates. With this in mind, one would expect to find many backtracks in the MS narratives, but as has already been observed, the fact that the majority MS narrators chose the past as anchor tense impeded their use of backtracks. Following the same logic, one would expect few backtracks in PS, where the perfective aspect is fully available to convey immediately prior events. However, contrary to this expectation, the PS narrators, who are fully comparable to the AE narrators in terms of preferred anchor tense (10/12 of each variety preferred the present as anchor tense), used more backtracks than the AE narrators, at 43 (48.3% of the corpus total). Of

A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 263



course, considering that the AE speakers do not make frequent use of the present perfect and the PS speakers do, this is not to be expected. So why do the PS narrators make so many backtracking temporal world-switches? 5.3

Backtracks from the historic present

It seems the answer lies in the nature of the ‘present’ tense from which the PS narrators are switching. The ‘historic present’ is well-documented as a common choice in Spanish spoken narratives and, indeed, the present was the anchor tense of choice for 10 of the 12 PS narrators (although only one quarter of the MS narrators chose the present as anchor tense throughout). It must be remembered that the use of the historic present does not imply that the narrated events are happening in the present time, but rather that it is a method of relating (past) events with a sense of immediacy and current relevance (King 1992). Described as an ‘Internal Evaluation Device’ for both English and Spanish (Schiffrin 1981; Silva-­Corvalán 1983), the historic present allows past events to be interpreted and evaluated in a live setting. Could it be that the present tense that the PS narrators used was being employed historically, replacing the Spanish preterit? If so, when background information was given the present perfect would not provide a true back-step, but rather the past perfect or the imperfect would serve better. World-­ switching to the past timezone from the historic present text-world, then, may not be the great temporal leap that it may first appear to be. There are several major indicators that the PS speakers use the present tense in a historic sense and that the backtracking world-switches to the past serve to give background information. In diagramming the many temporal world-­switches the PS speakers made to the past, it became clear that certain verbs in particular were relegated to these past worlds; namely ser, estar (both meaning to be) and haber (meaning there to be and the auxiliary in perfect compound tenses). These verbs are used to describe the scene or the characters’ mental states and traits, and not to drive the action forward. Furthermore, these verbs were always in the imperfect tense, the Spanish past tense which describes events that are “not valid” in the present (Reyes 1990: 49, my translation). Narration PS20L, which, at 10, has the largest share of the backtracking temporal world-switches in the PS subcorpus (23.3%), is rich with examples. The first extract shows a switch from present tense to ser in the imperfect, back to present tense and then estar in the imperfect: (2) PS20L 07-071 Can sigue buscando por el bosque Can continues looking in the forest PS20L 07-072 pero/ como Can era muy travieso/ but as Can was very mischievous

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PS20L 07-073 empieza a mover el árbol he starts to move the tree PS20L 07-074 donde estaba el nido de abejas where the wasps’ nest was

The next extract from the same narrator shows a switch from present tense to haber in the imperfect: (3) PS20L 14b152 Federico le pregunta a una de las ranas mayores Federico asks one of the older frogs PS20L 14b153 que había that was there

But, it could be argued, the past tense is also used to make backtracking temporal world-switches in all the other language varieties in the corpus; apart from the greater frequency, what makes the PS narrators different? The most conclusive evidence that the PS narrators use the present tense historically lies in the fact that the present perfect is not the perfective tense of choice when the PS narrators want to refer to a completed action. The following example, one of many, demonstrates this: (4) PS20C 03b021 y empiezan a llamarle- a la rana… and they start to call the frog PS20C 03b022 en esto Charlie había metido- la- cabeza en el- el… recipiente de cristal at this Charlie had put his head in the- the… glass bowl PS20C 03b023 y se lo había puesto a modo de escafandra [risas] and he had put it on like a diving helmet [laughs] PS20C 03b024 …con lo cual estaba un poco patoso …so he was a little clumsy PS20C 04a025 y al salir a la ventana- siguiendo a Juan/… pues se cae/ and on exiting the window- following Juan/… well he falls

The anchor tense of this narration is the present, yet when in clause 23 the narrator wants to describe a perfective action, (s)he switches to the past and uses the past perfect. This confirms that the historic present really is being used to narrate past events, for which the perfective of choice would indeed be the past perfect. Furthermore, the fact that these uses of estar and haber in the imperfect tense often co-occur, as in the last example, suggests that there are similar motivations behind the switches from present to past at these particular points. But why are these verbs in particular used in the backtracks?

A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 265



Note that in the previous three extracts, the action predicates seguir buscando, empezar a mover and preguntar (to continue searching, to start to move and to ask, respectively) are delivered in the present tense, and the imperfect is used in the backtracking temporal world-switch. It seems that background information is not delivered in the historic present tense as such information is not credited with the same immediate relevance or validity as that which drives the plot forward. In Text World Theory terms, the PS speakers deliver the function-­advancing propositions in the historic present, while the imperfect tense is reserved for a few clauses of world-building information that provide a backdrop to the plot. Therefore, it must be noted that a temporal world-switch does not necessarily entail a leap in time, but may simply be an alternation in tense for the purposes of representing the discourse in a certain way; in this case, a backgrounding and foregrounding device. So while the shape that the text-world diagram takes is dependent on linguistic form (a switch to a past tense is a temporal world-switch), closer analysis is necessary to tease out the linguistic functions (the present tense may be being used to represent the past). 5.4

Temporal adverbs

Although there is not the space here to go into the use of temporal adverbs in detail (see Lugea, forthcoming, for a fuller account), there are several results that may be highlighted and reinforce patterns already identified in the use of tense in temporal world-building. Recalling that the vast majority (10 of each) of the PS and AE narrators chose PP as anchor tense, it stands to reason that these varieties have higher frequencies (at 8 and 23, respectively) of temporal deictic adverb now/ahora than their Mexican and British counterparts. This shows that, as stated at the outset of this chapter, choice of anchor tense is a deciding factor in the selection of other world-builders. It is interesting that the PS narrators, who were shown earlier to make frequent use of historic present, use the actual temporal adverb ahora in support of their present axis of orientation. This has the effect of reinforcing the sense of vividness and immediacy in the narrating of past events. Following on from this pattern, the BE narrators, 7 of which chose the present as anchor tense, make less use of the temporal deictic now, with 10 occurrences at just 30% of the English total. Amongst the MS narrators, who statistically preferred the past as anchor tense (10 out 12 narrators), ahora was used only once. Notably, this one use of ahora among the MS narrators was in a past tense narrative, where the temporal adverb served to highlight the mental state of the text-world enactors, in a strategy that is similar to that of the historic present tense:

266 Jane Lugea

(5) MS21A 14a-072 y encontraron allí a Verde, la rana o el sapo que and they found there Verde, the frog or the toad which MS21A 14a-073 ahora se dieron cuenta que era un sapo porque now they realised that it was a toad because MS21A 14b-074 tenía su esposa la rana y muchos sapitos alrededor de él he had his wife the frog and lots of little toads around him

Here, although the text-world is temporally remote from the discourse-world in terms of tense, the choice of deictic temporal adverbs brings the discourse-world inhabitants closer to the text-world enactors’ mental states for the denouement of the story. So while it may be generalised that deictic temporal adverbs co-occur with present tense narratives, this pattern can be subverted where the marked choice provides a foregrounding stylistic effect. From the corpus analysis, an interesting pattern emerged in the non-deictic temporal adverb after, which was frequently used by the AE narrators in the following ways: (6) AE20I 02a003 and after he and his doggie went to sleep one night AE20I 02a004 the frog got out of the jar … (7) AE20E 10a060 and um - the deer pops out of the rock AE20E 10a061 and - um - after being disturbed. -

It seems strange that this temporal adverb should be so frequent in the AE narratives and completely absent in the BE narratives, so by comparing the descriptions of these particular scenes it may be possible to identify a reason. The same scenes, 2a and 10a, are described by two BE narrators in the following manner: (8) BE21I 02a-025 and the frog obviously having not been closed properly in the jar just kind of sneaks out (9) BE21H 10a-051 but he doesn’t realise that BE21H 10a-052 he’s gone right in between the antlers of a deer

One possible explanation, as these extracts from the BE subcorpus show, is that in light of the less frequent use of perfective aspect in AE predicates, AE speakers use the temporal adverb after to sequence a current event after a completed event. This would be quite revelational, as it posits that the difference in verb choice influences syntactical choice, where AE speakers may use after to introduce a perfective event in the subordinate clause, which is held in contrast with another event in the main clause. This would coincide with Bennett-Kastor’s findings (2002), where her Irish-speaking frog story narrators frequently used éis (a verbal suffix meaning after) to compensate for the lack of verbal perfectivity in Irish. Given the similarities in the circumstances, it seems plausible that a lack or avoidance of verbal



A text-world account of temporal world-building strategies 267

perfective aspect encourages speakers to find other means, such as adverbial after to express the same aspectual meaning. 6. Conclusions In summary, the BE narrators showed a marginal preference for the present as anchor tense, and their choice of temporal adverbs mirrored this. In terms of temporal world-switches, they were few and generally motivated by the textworld events rather than discourse-world narrative strategies. That is, their use of temporal world-builders was orthodox and strictly temporal. However, the most remarkable characteristics have emerged where narrators make use of temporal world-­building tools for other means. The speakers of the other language varieties in the corpus all employ tense and tense-switching in non-temporal discourse strategies. The most ardent group in this respect were the PS speakers, who were shown to use the historic present to relate past, yet vivid events, where the textworld was effectively ‘brought into’ the discourse-world. While the MS speakers also showed the historic present was available to them, their use of it was ‘triggered’ by text-world events that were more immediately relevant to the discourse-­ world, such as updates. Instead, the MS speakers largely preferred to relate the story using the past as anchor tense. The AE speakers’ preference for the present as anchor tense was on par with the PS narrators. They were shown to make frequent backtracking world-switches from the present and this was explained in relation to their infrequent use of the present perfect tense, which demanded the use of past tense to fill this function. Likewise, it was suggested that their frequent use of temporal adverb ‘after’ could be due to the infrequency of the perfective tense in AE. It must be remembered that the text-world framework was designed in and for (British) English and perhaps it is not fully equipped to account for temporal world-­switches that are not literally temporal but instead form part of some other discourse strategy, like for example, the PS use of tense to ‘close the distance’ between the discourse-world and text-world. Through detailed analysis of the diagrams, the ‘other’ uses of temporal deixis become clear. It is only now – through applying the model to other languages and language varieties – that we can appreciate the many other discursive ways temporal world-builders can be put to use. Thus, the application of Text World Theory to other languages and language varieties allows these alternative uses for temporal world-building features to be recognised. This chapter has focused on the temporal world-building strategies in this corpus of frog story narratives and forms part of a larger scale study into the full

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gamut of world-building strategies used by the narrators, from their spatial deixis to their use of directly represented discourse and modality (Lugea forthcoming). My results suggest each language may have a preference in accessibility relations between the discourse-world and the narrative text-world, as evidenced in this chapter through the Spanish-speaking narrators’ use of the present historic to close the empathetic distance between the discourse-world and the text-world. It may be that many of the findings of this research are the result – not of the language varieties’ narrative styles – but instead of the way that each group chose to undertake the task of elicited narrative. Nevertheless, significant differences emerged in the temporal discourse strategies employed and may point to a ‘culture’ of oral storytelling in each language or language variety. The text-world model has proven useful in tracking the micro-level formal differences between the narratives, as well as providing an analytical framework for the macro-level relations between interactants, discourse and the worlds created therein. In this way, Text World Theory has granted us a ‘way in’ to analysing cross-linguistic data from a socio-cognitive perspective.

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Mair, Christian and Geoffrey Leech. 2006. “Current Changes in English Syntax.” In The Handbook of English Linguistics, ed by Bas Aarts and April McMahon, 318–342. Oxford: Blackwell. doi: 10.1002/9780470753002.ch14 Mayer, Mercer. 2003. Frog, Where are You? New York: Dial Books. Meyer, Charles F. 2002. English Corpus Linguistics: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi: 10.1017/CBO9780511606311 Oakley, Todd and Anders Hougaard. 2008. Mental Spaces in Discourse and Interaction. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. doi: 10.1075/pbns.170 Otaola Olano, Concepción. 2006. Análisis lingüístico del discurso: la lingüística enunciativa. Madrid: Ediciones Académicas. Rescher, Nicholas. 1979. “The Ontology of the Possible.” In The Possible and the Actual, ed. by Michael J. Loux, 166–181. Ithaca & London: Cornell University Press. Reyes, Graciela. 1990. “Valores estilísticos del imperfecto.” Revista de Filología Española 70: 45–70. doi: 10.3989/rfe.1990.v70.i1/2.676 Rojo, Guillermo and Alexandre Veiga. 1999. “El tiempo verbal: los tiempos simples.” In Gramática descriptiva de la lengua española, ed. by Ignacio Bosque and Violeta Demonte. Madrid: Espasa Calpe. Romano, Manuela. 2014. “Evaluation in Emotion Discourse.” In Evaluation in Context, ed. by Geoff Thompson and Laura Alba, 367–386. Amsterdam: John Benjamins (Pragmatics & Beyond Series). Ryan, Marie-Laure. 1991a. “Possible Worlds and Accessibility Relations: A Semantic Typology of Fiction.” Poetics Today 12: 553–576. doi: 10.2307/1772651 Ryan, Marie-Laure. 1991b. Possible Worlds, Artificial Intelligence and Narrative Theory. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Schank, Roger C. and Robert P. Abelson. 1977. Scripts, Plans, Goals and Understanding: An Inquiry into Human Knowledge Structures. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Schiffrin, Deborah. 1981. “Tense Variation in Narrative.” Language 57: 45–62.  doi:  10.1353/lan.1981.0011

Segal, Erwin. 1995. “Narrative Comprehension and the Role of Deictic Shift Theory.” In Deixis in Narrative, ed. by Judith Duchan, Gail Bruder and Lynne Hewitt, 3–17. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Semino, Elena. 2010. “Text Worlds in Poetry.” In Contemporary Stylistics, ed. by Marina Lambrou and Peter Stockwell, 116–132. London: Continuum. Semino, Elena. 1997. Language and World Creation in Poems and Other Texts. London & New York: Longman. Silva-Corvalán, Carmen. 1983. “Tense and Aspect in Oral Spanish Narrative: Context and Meaning.” Language 59: 760–780. doi: 10.2307/413372 Slobin, Dan I. 2004. “The Many Ways to Search for a Frog: Linguistic Typology and the Expression of Motion Events.” In Relating Events in Narrative: Typological and Contextual Perspectives. Vol. 2, ed. by Sven Strömqvist and Ludo Verhoeven, 219–257. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Slobin, Dan I. 1996. “Two Ways to Travel: Verbs of Motion in English and Spanish.” In Grammatical Constructions: Their Form and Meaning, ed. by Masayoshi Shibatani and Sandra A. Thompson, 195–219. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stockwell, Peter. 2002. Cognitive Poetics: An Introduction. London & New York: Routledge. Strevens, Peter. 1972. British and American English. London: Macmillan.

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Strömqvist, Sven and Ludo Verhoeven (eds.). 2004. Relating Events in Narrative: Typological and Contextual Perspectives. Vol. 2. Mahwah, N.J.: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Tannen, Deborah. 1979. “What is in a Frame? Surface Evidence for Underlying Expectations.” In New Directions in Discourse Processing, ed. by Roy O. Feedle, 137–181. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. van Dijk, Teun A. and Walter Kintsch. 1983. Strategies of Discourse Comprehension. New York & London: Academic Press. Werth, Paul. 1999. Text Worlds: Representing Conceptual Space in Discourse. London: Longman. Werth, Paul. 1995a. “How to Build a World (in a Lot Less that Six Days, and using Only what’s in Your Head).” In New Essays on Deixis: Discourse, Narrative, Literature, ed. by Keith Green, 49–80. Amsterdam & Atlanta: Rodopi. Werth, Paul. 1995b. “‘World enough, and Time’: Deictic Space and the Interpretation of Prose.” In Twentieth Century Fiction: From Text to Context, ed. by Peter Verdonk and Jean Jacques Weber, 181–205. London: Routledge. Werth, Paul. 1994. “Extended Metaphor: A Text-World Account.” Language and Literature 3: 79–103. Werth, Paul. 1992. “Support Your Localist Sheriff: Localist Grammar and Deictic Space.” Linguistica Antverpiensia XXVI: 237–269. Werth, Paul. 1990. “Towards a More Human Linguistics.” Unpublished inaugural lecture given at University of Amsterdam. Held in the Text World Theory special collection. University of Sheffield. Werth, Paul. 1981. “Tense, Modality and Possible Worlds.” Rapport des Activités de l’Institut de Phonetique 16: 17–30.

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo University Complutense de Madrid

Based on new perspectives on the conceptual segmentation of oral emotional narratives (Romano & Porto 2010; Romano et al. 2013) and the development of cognitive gesture studies (McNeill 1992; Sweetser 2007; Cienki 2008b), this chapter aims at upgrading the descriptive tools used for the conceptual-gesture interaction in structuring oral narratives. Two oral autobiographical stories, in Spanish and British English, are analysed combining both cognitive approaches. The results show two different conceptual-gesture projecting strategies for physically guiding the listener through the narrative. Although extensive comparative analyses are needed to confirm the differences, the combined method proves quite useful for capturing the conceptual-gesture projections as structuring strategies in oral narratives. Keywords: gesture space builders, gestures, narrative spaces, concept-gesture projection

1. Introduction The main aim of this chapter is to design upgraded descriptive tools for the comparative study of the projection of conceptual structuring strategies in oral narratives onto gesture strategies.1 Gestures are considered physical resources for that conceptual projection and act as physical guiding mechanisms that guide the listener through the fragmented unfolding of the narrative spaces within a narrative event. For this purpose we draw on the new analytical tools developed for the study of the conceptual unfolding of discourse (Fauconnier 1994, 2005; Fauconnier & Turner 2002; Dancygier 2007, 2008; Redeker 2006) as applied to 1. This work is part of a broader Research Project FFI2012-30790, funded by the Spanish Ministry of Science and Competitiveness doi 10.1075/pbns.262.11rod © 2016 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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oral narratives by Porto and Romano (2010), Romano et al. (2013). In addition, the study makes use of the main concepts of Mental Spaces (MS) approach to the analysis of gestures co-occurring with speech (McNeill 1992, 2000; Cienki 2008a, 2008b, 2009). The combination of the conceptual and analytical framework of these two approaches provides a more accurate approach to the speaker’s conceptual structuring strategies projected on gestures. To test the viability of the combined analytical framework, two autobiographical recorded stories, one in Peninsular Spanish and another in British English are analysed. First, I use the main analytical implementation provided by the socio-­ cognitive approach to the analysis of oral emotional stories (Porto & Romano 2010; Romano & Porto 2013; Romano et al. 2013). Second, I track the gestures throughout the structure of the narrative as identified in the previous analysis. Third, I examine the most salient gestures co-occurring with speech and co-­ performed at textual segmental transitions. Finally, the comparison of both narratives helps to identify the conceptual narrative structuring strategies projected on gestures at transition points in each narration. The combination of resour­ ces from these two cognitive studies of oral narratives and gesture proves to be quite fruitful for unravelling the conceptual strategies underlying the unfolding of oral autobiographical memoirs. The results show differences between English and Spanish narratives, even though the reasons for such differences are still to be confirmed by more extensive analyses. The chapter first presents the cognitive approaches to the study of oral emotional narratives and gesture from which the conceptual and analytical tools for the analysis are drawn; second, the description of the data and the analysis of the corpus; and finally, the initial conclusions of the study are offered. 2. Cognitive approaches to textual and gesture segmentation of oral narratives 2.1

Cognitive approach to the segmentation of oral emotional narratives

Stemming from the seminal work of Labov and Waletzky (1967) on the analysis of narrative structure, more recent functional and cognitive approaches to this structure have been developed. Specifically, the socio-cognitive framework for the analysis of oral narratives developed by Porto and Romano (2010), Romano and Porto (2013), and Romano et al. (2013) provides a combination of tools that



Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 275

is quite suitable for a further analysis of how the conceptual structure of an oral narrative is projected on gestures.2 These conceptual and segmental tools are founded on three main theoretical approaches to the analysis of discourse: Mental Spaces (Fauconnier 1994, 1997; Fauconnier & Turner 2002); the application of this conceptual framework to the analysis of discourse (Oakley & Houggard 2008), and more specifically to the analysis of fictional narratives (Dancygier 2007, 2008); and Cognitive Linguistics account of attentional phenomena (Talmy 2007, 2008). In addition, these studies make use of the methodological tools suggested by Redeker (2006) for the segmentation of discourse. The socio-cognitive approach applied to oral narratives founded on Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration Theory (MSCIT) claims that the unfolding of these types of narratives is “a dynamic and synergetic process” (Romano et al. 2013: 87) where attentional markers and space builders guide the listener through the complex network of conceptual spaces interlocked in the unfolding of discourse. Within this framework, the structure of emotional oral narratives is considered to be built up as a series of mental spaces or narrative spaces. These constitute the basic conceptual units that structure the narrative. Narrative spaces are defined as “cognitive domains activated or set up in the reader’s mind by the use of linguistic forms, for the purposes of online story construction” (Dancygier 2007: 137). Here cognitive domain is understood in the same way as mental space (Fauconnier & Turner 2002: 40) that is, as “a partial conceptual structure constructed at the time of speaking.” The conceptual structure of emotional oral narratives has been shown to be quite fragmented (Romano & Porto 2013) and that the speaker uses different mechanisms to guide the listener through those incomplete and fragmented conceptual spaces. These mechanisms are the space builders and the narrative anchors. Space builders are, according to Fauconnier (1990), expressions that open a new mental space or change the focus to another existing space. In oral narratives these space builders usually indicate new or discontinuous spaces with respect to previous ones (Oakley & Hougaard 2008: 5) and are usually attentional markers such as discourse markers, tense shifts, personal pronouns, adverbial expressions, repetitions, as well as non-linguistic expressions such as clicks, breathings, repairs, etc. (Romano et al. 2013: 80). Narrative anchors (Dancygier 2008) are repeated or re-elaborated linguistic expressions, concepts or ideas that are scattered throughout the narrative. They give coherence to the story by linking the different 2. Based on the work of Fauconnier (1994, 2005); Fauconnier & Turner (2002); Dancygier (2007, 2008); Redeker (2006) in the main.

276 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

narrative spaces or side stories. The final meaning or global emergent story (Dancygier 2008) is built up by the listener linking the different side stories with the main storyline as the narrative unfolds. At the same time, the listener makes use of a generic space activated by the collective shared cultural world knowledge of the participants (Romano et al. 2013: 76–77). 2.2

Cognitive approach to gestures in the structure of oral narratives

McNeill’s (1992, 2000; McNeill & Levy 1993; Levy & McNeill 1992) approach to the study of oral narrative discourse within the Mental Spaces framework already acknowledged that story-telling is not just a succession of events in the most prototypical sense (Labov 1997; Labov & Walezky 1967), but that it consists of different levels, changes of time, perspective and sequential and non-sequential dimensions. Moreover, McNeill already claimed that gestures reflect the way the speaker constructs the discourse through the narrative, those gestures being an integral part of the utterances they appear with (1992: 183). According to McNeill (1992: 184–185) the story structure is considered a mental space in itself. The gestures that track the multiple mental spaces that set up the narrative are metanarrative gestures. These gestures are considered metaphoric as they “present the story as an object or an arrangement in space” (1992: 189). Among these metanarrative gestures, the most significant ones are the beats as they “reveal the speaker’s conception of the narrative discourse as a whole” (McNeill 1992: 15).3 In more recent approaches based on MSCIT (Cienki 2008b, 2009; Parrill & Sweetser 2004; Sweetser 2007), the focus has been placed on the observation of the way speakers set up the different mental spaces as discourse unfolds. According to Cienki (2008a: 17) those gestures that are used to signal the different structuring parts of a discourse represent the speakers’ metanarrative mental spaces using the form of physical spaces (after Sweetser 2007). Discourse-structuring gestures have a metanarrative function and are non-representational gestures, that is, they do not have concrete referents in a given context. They represent the ontological metaphor (Cienki 2008a: 17) abstract as concrete where the source domain is a distinct space and the target is the discourse structure itself. With this in mind, Cienki (2009) establishes a connection between linguistic expressions that set up mental spaces i.e. space builders, and gestures as they co-occur in conversational speech, more specifically in elicited conversations from university students. 3. A beat is a quick, sharp flick with the hands, but in this study the term is also applied to quick head movements.

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 277



The results reveal that co-speech gesture only takes on the role of space builders some of the time. However, this preliminary study provides a new approach to the range of gestural behaviours which may be used by speakers to set up mental spaces while speaking. 3. Data and metohodology 3.1

Data

The data for this study are two recorded stories taken from the Memoro. The bank of memories.4 This is a non-profit online project that collects and publishes short video recordings of spontaneous interviews with people born before 1940. The videos were selected keeping in mind the following: (1) video records taken with a middle shot frame in order to be able to watch as many gestures as possible produced not only with face and shoulders but also with hands, and (2) recordings that could be self contained – for this criteria we accepted the listeners’ idea of a self contained story, both the ones that did the recording and the owners of the website that could have contributed to a further segmentation of the videos in order to cope with their requirements of time length of the uploaded videos. Among the videos that fulfilled these formal and content requirements two comparable videos in two different languages, Peninsular Spanish and British English, were chosen. Each one contains the autobiographical narrative of women within the same range of age: the Spanish woman was born in 1926 and the British woman in 1930. Both videos share similar topics: they are narratives about travelling. The data studied amounts to ten minutes and twenty-nine seconds of recordings. The analysis of gestures in the case of the Spanish speaker was hindered by the segmentation done by the author of the video recording. The video has several blackouts at different stages. The image goes to black and then comes on progressively again at different points in the discourse. This discontinuity not only influenced the first segmentation of the narrative carried out, but also it made the observation of gestures difficult at these points. However, after transcription and a careful, painstaking visualizing process some of the gestures performed at the beginning of those semi-shaded initial parts were identified. In gesture studies, the importance of the communicative or situational context has already been recognized (Kita 2009: 160), as it is what marks the gesture space (McNeill & Pedelty 1995) where gestural activity takes place. Each of the 4. http://www.memoro.org/

278 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

speakers analysed in this chapter performs the narrative in similar settings but in different postures. The Spanish speaker is sitting on an armchair; she is leaning on the back of the armchair but she maintains an upright posture. She can move freely in that space and only the elbows rest on the arms of the chair completely, so she moves her hands freely. The video records the narrative in a middle shot so it is possible to see the hand movements at lap level. The listener seems to be behind the camera as revealed by the speaker’s eye-gaze and head movements. The British speaker is also sitting on an armchair, but in contrast to the Spanish speaker, she is not leaning on it. She is sitting upright and she does not rest her arms on the armchair. The camera is in front of her and takes a long middle shot, so it is possible to see her at knee level. The listener seems to be also in front of her, probably behind the camera as there is not even a slight deviation of her eye-­gaze to the right or left when addressing the listener. Following the socio-cognitive approach to the study of oral emotional narratives (Romano et al. 2013), the stories analysed in this chapter are emotional narratives although emotional vividness has already been filtered and modified with time. The narratives under study were produced and recorded with the aim of being preserved in the collective memory, mainly in the mind of their closer relatives. These stories are clearly monologic and along a “continuum of narratives” (Ochs & Capps 2001) they can be defined as being (1) highly tellable stories as they form part of the life of a person whose friends or families record in order to preserve those memories; (2) low in telling as there is only one active teller and a highly passive listener; (3) not embedded in any physical interactional speech event; (4) non-linear, but fragmented as in emotion narratives (Romano et  al. 2013) and (5) low in moral stance as they do not construct a moral framework for the interpretation of the events but the events themselves have already been recorded so as to represent the self (Conway & Pleydell-Pearce 2000). 3.2

Methodology

In order to segment the narratives, Redeker’s (2006) model of ‘idea units’ was applied. Redeker (2006: 344) distinguishes between paratactic and hypotactic transitions between idea units or segments. Paratactic transitions are those that differentiate complete semantic segments at the same level in the narrative. These can be idea units that open up a segment (ns), end a segment (es) and those that return to a previous segment (pop). Hypotactic transitions are those that mark the introduction of idea units or segments of parenthetical nature. This parenthetical material involves the interruption or suspension of a segment by the introduction of background information (bg); digressions (di), explanations (ex), etc. Both



Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 279

paratactic and hypotactic transitions signal segments that come to mind as the narrators unfold their stories in an organized way (Romano et al. 2013). Following current cognitive approaches to gesture studies, after the textual analysis, special attention is paid to the co-occurring gestures at textual segments. For the observation of gestures in the video recordings matched with voice, the VLC programme was used at very low speed rates. For the observation of more detailed gestural features the ELAN programme was used, a tool that allows playing the videos frame by frame and therefore being more precise for the localization of the stroke phase of the gestural unit (Kendon 2004).5 After setting the technical requirements, the gesture behaviour co-occurring at the textual transitions, both paratactic and hypotactic, was tracked. The gestures focused on were non-representational gestures, that is, those with a metanarrative function and whose main referent is the discourse itself. Next, the most frequent discourse structuring gestures used by each speaker in the transitions were identified. In the case of the Spanish speaker, the most frequent gestures involved head and hand movements, as well as shoulders shrugs, whereas in the case of the English speaker, head movements and eye-gaze shifts were more prominently used between textual units. In addition, head beats and head nods were distinguished, features that proved to be important. A head beat is similar to a hand beat (McNeill 1992: 15) but in this case, it is the head that makes a quick sharp simple flick. On the other hand, head nods imply repetitive up and down movement of the head. The study of these gestures co-occurring at textual transition segments led to the identification of the specific metanarrative or pragmatic functions that each speaker projects onto these body gestures. Moreover, the identification of those functions helped to discover the different discourse structuring strategies used by each speaker in the unfolding of the conceptual narrative spaces that compose their autobiographical accounts.

5. The stroke phase is the point when the gesture is performed. A gesture is usually measured from its inception which includes a preparation phase, the pre-stroke movement, then the stroke itself and then post-gesture phases which are post-stroke hold and retraction (McNeill 1992, 2000).

280 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

4. Analysis of the narratives 4.1

Textual segmentation

This section shows a brief account of the conceptual segmentation of the transcribed narratives, that is, the main input narrative spaces. 4.1.1 Spanish speaker In the Spanish speaker’s recall, the story unfolds chronologically, as expected in an autobiographical memory (Barsalou 1988, 2008; Conway 2009; Rubin 2005). The global structure of this narrative shows six conceptual spaces found in eleven textual segments, as shown in Table 1. As can be observed in Table 1, it is possible to identify six segments or large conceptual narrative spaces. First, there is an introduction where the speaker frames the story around the main event (S1), the return to Europe. The second space (S2) comprises the reason for that return, her father’s illness; this is a space to which the speaker returns in the course of the narrative. Then, there is a third brief space (S3) where she introduces the concept of the embarkment; she returns to this space twice as the story develops. Next, there is a fourth space (S4) that comprises information around one of the sub-events of the story, actions that took place before leaving and that involved what was left behind; she also returns to this space later. The fifth space (S5) deals specifically with the events that took place in, at least, part of the ship travel; and in the sixth (S6), a final segment unfolds the arrival and the events that occurred then. The anchors in this narrative are the clusters of events around the ship travel and leaving the country, events which are repeated in S1, S3, S5 and S6. Another important narrative anchor is that of her father’s figure that appears in S1, S4, S5, and S6. More specifically, her father’s illness constitutes the main reason for the whole return trip to Europe. Another interesting feature in the narrative organization of this speaker’s recount is the frequent use of resume sentences, which Table 1.  Global structure of the Spanish speaker’s narrative Spaces

Events

Segment lines

S1 S2 S3 S4 S5 S6

Return to Europe Her father’s illness The embarkment What is left behind The ship travel The arrival

1 2–8 / 45–50 9 / 23 / 34–37 10–22 / 24–33 38–44 / 51–58 59–64

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 281



Table 2.  Example of hypotactic relations in the Spanish speaker’s story Lines 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Cuarenta puertos de la América y del África … ‘Forty ports of America and of Africa’ fue … fantástico ‘It was … amazing’ porque cada ciudad … ‘because in each city …’ er … mi padre … ‘er … my father … bajábamos, ‘we went down’ agarrábamos el tranvía, ‘got on the tram’ y a dar la vuelta a la ciudad, o los monumentos … ‘and we went around the city, or the monuments’ oh … en fin … mi padre sabía mucho … ‘oh … in brief … my father knew a lot …’

Type of hypotactic relation pop/ns ev ex int./re. bg bg bg com

are used as space builders. This gives the narrative a more compartmental overall structure. All these spaces are fragmented, interrupted by specifications, background information and evaluative comments. An example of quotation can be seen in lines 46–50, and several evaluations in lines 51–58, which belong to a return to S5 (see Table 2). In the example given in Table 2, we can appreciate the evaluation (ev) of the situation, the explanation (ex), but mostly background information (bg) that we find in three idea units out of the eight that form this segment. It is also interesting to see how the repair segment (line 54) and the evaluative commentary (line 58) both form part of the narrative anchor narrator’s father. 4.1.2 English speaker In the English speaker’s story, as in the case of the Spanish one, the narrative unfolds chronologically. In this story, the main characters are the narrator herself and a friend of hers. They both travelled around the USA for one year. They just went there to learn and enjoy while working at different places and doing different jobs, earning some money so as to sustain themselves while travelling. The global structure of this narrative shows twenty segments which comprise 6 narrative spaces as shown in Table 3. As we can see in Table 3, the first space (S1) begins as the continuation of a previous account. In the first segment, lines 1–5, the narrator refers to their brief

282 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

Table 3.  Global structure of the English speaker’s narrative Spaces

Events

Lines

S1 S2

New York experience activities with acquaintances

S3

Trip to and stay in other USA locations

S4 S5 S6

Working in USA Personal experiences /activities Her own impressions and feelings from the experience

1–5 / 48–71 6–9 / 39–43 / 46–47 / 72–77 / 79–84 / 89–90 / 97–107 10–12 / 44–45 / 78 / 91–96 / 113–114 13–19 / 108–112 /115–130 20–25 / 85–88 26–38

stay in New York. However, the speaker goes back to the New York mental space adding a new experience that concentrates in a second segment, lines 48–71. The second space (S2) is related to their activities with different people they got acquainted with during their travelling through the United States. The narrator and her friend got to know several people with whom they accomplished different activities not related to their working activity; those people and the different activities they were involved in appear in the text in six other different segments. (S3) comprises five segments, and they all deal with their moving from one city or county to another while they were in the United States, all within the narrative space of trips to and stays in USA locations. (S4) deals with the activities related to her and her friend working in USA in order to earn some money while travelling; the reference to those activities comes up three times within the whole story. The fifth space (S5) comprises two segments where she mentions the personal experiences or activities that they both carried out; she presents those episodes as very personal lived experiences different to those accomplished with acquaintances. Finally, (S6) is a long segment where she explains their impressions of the American experience. These feelings and impressions are scattered throughout the narrative. They are the main narrative anchors, all of them linked to S6. Narrative anchors are introduced at the hypotactic level, as evaluations on: (a) the travelling experience (lines 9, 21, 35, 36, 130); (b) specific things (lines 28, 31, 70); (c) their experience with people they met (lines 39, 47, 81); and (d) specific experiences (lines 24, 77, 86, 88). All these evaluative comments together with the introduction of some other evaluative digressions on people or places, specifications and explanations, make the sequential unfolding of this narrative quite fragmented. In the segment shown in Table 4, which belongs to S6, we can see how, in a very brief excerpt, four different types of parenthetical material can be found:

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 283



beginning of a new space (ns); specification (sp); evaluative commentary (com) and explanation (ex). Table 4.  Example of hypotactic relations in the English speaker’s story Lines 26 27 28 29 30

Type of hypotactic relation

and … well, we’ve just got a taste of American way of life American food which was so plenty as after what we had for the time being Bear in mind … at that time there were all sorts of things

ns sp com com ex

Gesture segmental analysis

4.2

4.2.1 The Spanish speaker For the Spanish speaker, the six mental spaces in her narrative are marked using different gestures both at the beginning (ns) and at the end of the segment (es). In relation to the opening of new segments, two macro-strategies were identified, both involving the head. The first strategy involves the shifted movement of the head, a change that co-occurs with a hand beat, a head beat and head nods taking place while uttering certain linguistic items, that are marked in bold in Table 5 – except in line 38, where there are no head nor hand beats. In Table 5, lines 2 and 45 begin with the narrator’s head tilted to the left, moving it towards a more central position facing the listener. The same movement Table 5.  Head movements at openings Lines 2 45 9 23 10 38 59

Porque mi padre debido al … su trabajo ‘Because my father due to the … his work’ porque el médico le dijo … ‘because the doctor told him …’ Me embarqué … a los quince … ‘I embarked … when I was fifteen’ Bueno … hasta que … llegó el día de embarcar … ‘Well … until … the day to embark arrived’ Bueno … dejamos todo aquello … ‘Well … we left all that …’ El viaje …, por río ‘The journey … along the river’ Entonces … llegamos … en Marsella, ‘Then … we arrived … to Marsella’

Space

Hypotactic function

S2

ns

S2

ns

S3

ns

S3

ns

S4

ns

S5

ns

S6

ns

284 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

towards the centre takes place in lines 9, 10 and 23, but with her head initially changing from her right towards the centre as in line 9, or slightly tilted to the right as in 10 and 23. In lines 2 and 9, this centring of the head is accompanied by a head beat. In line 2, this head beat co-occurs with the narrative anchor concept padre ‘father’, and in line 9, with the verbal expression embarqué ‘I embarked’. This verbal expression opens S3 i.e. the embarkment. In line 45, the head nod seems to have been replaced by hand beats that co-occur with the linguistic expression médico ‘doctor’. This is an important specification within S2, father’s illness. In fact, ‘Doctor’ is mentioned for the first time in line 4 of S2 and there is no return to this space until line 45. In lines 10 and 23 we also find head nods co-occurring with the space building linguistic expression bueno ‘well’. In line 23 these head nods are co-performed with a shoulder shrug. In line 38, she tilts her head to the left. This left tilting is found also in line 59. However, in this line we find the head tilt combined with a head beat – as the result of her marking the lowering of the chin but made with a quick and sharp downwards movement. This head beat co-occurs with the linguistic space builder entonces ‘then’. The second strategy does not involve a shift in head position. Instead, it involves head movements such as head raising, head nods, and head beats that usually co-occur with hand beats and hand movements (see Table 6). As in Table 5, we mark in bold the linguistic expressions co-occurring with head movements shown in Table 6. In Table 6, we see some examples of this second strategy. In line 1 the head is facing the listener, with the tip of the fingers of both hands on her cheeks. The beginning of this utterance co-occurs with the raising of her head – raising the chin upwards. This raising co-occurs with the linguistic expression Y ‘and’. In addition, the introduction to this space is marked by a shrug of both shoulders. This shrug does not co-occur with speech, but it is announcing that she is going to begin talking. In line 24 she has her head slightly raised – chin upwards – and she Table 6.  Head movements co-occurring with hand beats and movement Lines 1 24 34 51

Y vinimos para acá ‘And we came here’ Bueno … dejamos una familia …, ‘Well … we left a family …’ Y embarcamos … ‘And we embarked’ Cuarenta puertos de la América y del África … ‘Forty ports of America and Africa’

Space

Hypotactic function

S1

ns

S4

ns

S3

ns

S5

ns

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 285



makes a slight beat with her head. This head beat co-occurs with bueno ‘well’. As she begins with dejamos ‘we left’, she takes her hands from her face and raises her hands. Both arms, flexed at the elbow, are placed parallel to each other with the palms of the hands open and facing the speaker, at the level of her face. In the opening lines 34 and 51, the speaker maintains the head slightly tilted to her left, so there is no change in head position. However, in 34 the gesture used for opening this space is a hand beat done with both hands, palms facing each other and placed together on her legs. This hand beat co-occurs with the concept embarcamos ‘we embarked’. In line 51, with her head tilted to the left she draws her chin inwards towards the lower part of her neck. This creates the global image of her performing a little retraction of her head. This retraction is accompanied by the speaker’s right hand in ring configuration – thumb and index fingers touching and forming a ring shape – in front of the right side of her face. This hand configuration is co-performed with head nods co-occurring with the linguistic expression: cuarenta puertos ‘forty ports’. Six closing segments (es) were identified (see Table 7), where the speaker marks the end of the space shifting her head in a horizontal axis towards the left or right. The speaker’s tilting of the head to one side is done without any other co-occurring gestures at the end of lines 8 and 23 (Table 7). In both cases the speaker’s head is tilted to the left. The final position of the head, with no head beat or nods, coincides with the closing of S2 and S3, and with Europa ‘Europe’ and embarcar ‘embark’ respectively. In the other five ending lines in Table 7, the tilt of the head co-occurs with some other gestures. In line 1 the speaker’s head movement to the left co-occurs Table 7.  Head shifts in horizontal axis for segment ending Lines 1 8 9 23 44 64

Y vinimos para acá ‘And we came here’ lo mandó para Europa … ‘he sent him to Europe’ Me embarqué … a los quince … ‘I embarked … when I was fifteen …’ Bueno … hasta que … llegó el día de embarcar … Well … until … the day to embark arrived’ se pasaron cuarenta días … ‘it passed forty days …’ entonces fueron a Perpiñán ‘then they went to Perpignan’

Space

Hypotactic function

S1

es

S2

es

S3

es

S3

es

S5

es

S6

es

286 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

with slight head nods as the head reaches the final position. These slight nods co-occur with the mentioning of the spatial deictic concept acá ‘here’. While the narrator utters this utterance, she has her hands placed on both sides of her face – the tip of her fingers on her cheeks. Line 9 ends with the speaker’s head tilted to the right. She also uses a head beat that co-occurs with the mention of her age at that time i.e. quince ‘fifteen’. In line 44, her head is tilted to the left, but she makes two head nods that coincide with the last two concepts in the utterance: cuarenta ‘forty’ and días ‘days’. Line 64 also ends with the speaker’s head tilted to the left. However, before the head is completely tilted, she makes an up-down movement with both hands at the same time and parallel to each other on her legs: her hands open, palms facing downwards. This movement may be interpreted as a beat, but performed in the way we have described it, and co-occurring with the verb fueron ‘they went’. The other five ends of segment (Table 8) do not involve the change to a tilted position of the speaker’s head, but consist of head nods, beats and shaking, co-­ occurring with hand movements. In Table 8, line 50 ends with the speaker’s head facing front, but co-occurring with the verb verá ‘you’ll see’ at the end of the utterance, the narrator makes a deep head beat. She moves her head down and up not very quickly so the path of this movement is quite marked. This deep beat, or down-up head movement, co-­ occurs with her right hand waving outwards. The dorsal part of the hand is moved towards the front and outwards, as when with a loosely holding hand we indicate the direction forwards to someone. Lines 37 and 22, both end with the speaker’s head not tilted but centred, and the speaker’s lowering her eye-gaze and placing both hands, palms open, touching each other, on her legs. In line 33 the narrator faces the listener, the head centred, but she makes a slight head raise – cheeks upraised. The rising co-occurs with se ‘it’ and the downwards movement with Table 8.  Head movements co-occurring with hand movement Lines 50 37 22 33 58

se va al Pirineo … francés y verá … ‘you go to the Pyrinees … of France and you’ll see … que hacía la travesía de los continentes ‘that did the voyage between the continents’ y se iba quedando vacía la casa … ‘and the house was gradually emptied’ y se quedó todo allá.. ‘and it was left all there’ oh … en fin … mi padre sabía mucho … ‘oh … in brief … my father knew a lot

Space

Hypotactic function

S2

es

S3

es

S4

es

S4

es

S5

es



Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 287

quedó ‘was left’. Coinciding with todo allá ‘all there’, she nods slightly, and closes her hands in front of her. Line 58 in Table 8 ends with the speaker facing the listener. The narrator raises her hands – arms flexed at the elbow – in front of her. Both arms parallel to each other, with the palms open and facing herself. This ending contains the main narrative anchor i.e. the speaker’s father. This is why this ending is perhaps the most complex one in terms of gestures. Apart from the direction and situation of her head and hands, while mentioning her father, she makes a head beat. The first stage of the beat – the rising of her chin – co-occurs with mi ‘my’ and the second stage – the downwards movement co-occurs with padre ‘father’. At the end of the unit, two representational gestures are made: she shakes her head very quickly from left to right co-occurring with sabía mucho ‘he knew a lot’. At the same time, she shakes her hand and, in parallel to the lowering of the intonation at the end of the utterance, she moves her two hands towards her chest, as if she wanted to direct her thoughts towards her inner self. These gestures function at a metanarrative level closing this conceptual space about her father. Finally, it is important to notice that the gesture strategies used by the Spanish speaker lead to a different sub-segmentation of the narrative from that performed in the textual analysis. Following the main goal of the narrator’s use of gestures to guide the listener, the Spanish speaker shows a great concern with the introduction of background information within the same narrative space. For example, the use of head beats and tilts help to subdivide S2 into four distinct sub-spaces that would comprise lines 2–3, 4, 5–6 and 7–8 (see Table 3), an analysis that exceeds the limitations of the present study. To summarize, the Spanish speaker’s main gesture strategies observed using textual and gesture analytical tools lead to the idea that this speaker guides the listener into and out of the different input narrative spaces of the story. The main gestures involved are head movements in a horizontal axis, i.e., head tilts, and head shifts in left-right direction, and head changes in a vertical axis, that is, raising or lowering of the head. Head movements in a vertical axis usually combine with hand movements and shoulder shrugs. In both cases, we find the use of head beats and head nods. Eye-gaze is not significant for the structuring of the narrative for this speaker as she is most of the time facing the listener. In addition, the Spanish speaker’s gestures co-occur with three linguistic expressions that function as space builders i.e. entonces ‘then’ (59); Bueno ‘Well’ (10, 23 and 24); Y ‘and’ (1). The gesture used with entonces ‘then’ (59) and Bueno ‘Well’ (23) is a head beat. The gestures co-occurring with the introduction of the connector Bueno ‘Well’ in (10) are head nods and in (24) a combination of head nods and shoulder shrug. Finally, coinciding with Y (1) we found a head rise movement.

288 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

Gestures and conceptual anchors also co-occur in the Spanish narrative: within S2 marking individual concepts such as padre ‘father’ (2, 58) and médico ‘doctor’ (45); within S3, signalling the concept of embarkment twice (9 and 23); and within S4, co-occurring with specific actions linked to the fourth space such as dejamos ‘we left’ (24) and se quedó ‘it was left’ (33). The Spanish speaker uses head beats co-occurring with padre ‘father’ (2), mi padre ‘my father’ (58); embarqué ‘I embarked’ (9), whereas she uses hand beats with médico ‘doctor’ (45) embarcamos ‘we embarked’ (34) and se quedó ‘it was left’ (33). Furthermore, we find three expressions that are marked with representational gestures that have a twofold function. On the one hand, they have metaphorical reference to the content they communicate but, on the other hand, they have the metanarrative function of marking the end of a space. These expressions are verá ‘you’ll see’ (50), sabía mucho ‘he knew a lot’ and fueron ‘they went’ (64). They all involve the use of hand and head movements co-occurring in a complex sequence of actions already described. 4.2.2 The British speaker The British speaker’s main gesture strategies rely on the use of eye-gaze and head beats. Tracking the British narrator’s eye-gaze and head beats behaviour co-­occurring at the textual transitions, we observe that she does not consistently mark new segments or ends of segments as noted for the Spanish speaker. Most significant gestures at the metanarrative level are used at the beginning or within hypotactic transitions. For example, in relation to the metanarrative use of the speaker’s eye-gaze, we observe that she turns her eye-gaze to the listener to mark specific conceptual points, that is, the eye-gaze functions as an attentional marker. A good example of the attentional pragmatic strategy followed by the British speaker using eye-gaze shifts is found in large chunks of the narrative. Within these narrative stretches, she directs the eye-gaze to the listener coinciding with the most significant conceptual points for the understanding of the content of a specific conceptual space. For example, we find this eye-gaze function throughout the textually identified S6 where she unfolds her own impressions and feelings from the experience. In Table 9, the elements where eye-gaze towards the listener is maintained are marked in bold. In this stretch of the narrative, we can observe the British speaker’s use of eye-­ gaze shifting towards the listener. The main function of this eye-gaze shifting is to maintain the attentional focus within the segments. The eye-gaze is used as a catchment (McNeil’s 2000 “recurrence of gesture features over stretches of discourse”) that, not only gives cohesion to this stretch of the narrative, but also guides the listener through the most significant concepts within the narrative space.

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 289



Table 9.  Eye-gaze for attentional functions Lines 25 26 32 33 34 35 37

And well, we’ve just got a taste of American way of life American food We didn’t have washing machines in every house here, We didn’t have cars for everyone ah … It was just a complete culture shock It was amazing and And the … in our eyes compared to the way we had been brought up

Space

Hypotactic function

S6 S6 S6 S6 S6 S6 S6

ns sp sp sp ev ev es

Space

Hypotactic function

S5 S5 S5 S5 S5 S5

pop/ns com ex bg com es

Table 10.  Eye-gaze catchment for attentional functions Lines 19 20 21 22 23 24

while we were there we had a lovely time because of its snowing and we went skiing with fairly disastrous results, we had never done it before …

A variation of the use of this catchment is found in the fifth space (S5). Here the eye-gaze is maintained through three hypotactic segments. The difference with the previous example in Table 9 is that the attentional focus is compacted rather than scattered throughout the conceptual space pointing to specific expressions. Lines 19–24, shown in Table 10, are gesture linked by the maintenance of the eye-gaze throughout the uttering of these three idea units. The segment does not open up with any marked gesture. She is looking to her right but, when she reaches the beginning of the explanation that opens with the conjunction because, the eye-gaze remains facing the listener until the end of the evaluative comment when she turns her eye-gaze again to her right. Moreover, eye-gaze as attentional focus also marks place concepts as in the examples in Table 11. In Table 11, we find all those segments that make reference to places. Most of them are introduced with a prepositional element. In some cases, the preposition itself is not marked in bold because the gesture stroke, that is, the accomplishment of the gesture, does not take place at that point. However, the beginning of the turning of the eye-gaze towards the listener begins when uttering the preposition. In two of the segments, the locative concept is not introduced with a preposition: in line 43 the speaker uses a spatial relative pronoun, and in line 76 she makes use of the name of the place. Moreover, in line 56 we find that the prepositional

290 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

Table 11.  Eye-gaze for attentional functions on locations Lines

Space

Hypotactic function

On Broadway where he was recruiting … for his work And this time, we stayed in the black church in … Harlem miles into Harlem And he was going down to this black university er … called Howard University 93 right the way down to New Orleans … 95 And then we made our way up to Baton Rouge 111 And we found a job in a local diamond store … 117 which was the parent insurance firm of the one I worked for in Lloyds of London

S2 S2 S8 S8 S2

sp es sp sp bg

S10 S11 S4 S4

bg bg bg bg

Space

Hypotactic function

S3 S9

ns ns

S5

pop/ns

8 43 51 56 76

Table 12.  Eye-gaze in openings or returns Lines 10 79 86

And the next day we drove up to Massachusetts We stayed in Howard University in Washington for about seven or eight days And at the time, it was cherry blossom time

expression is preceded by a nominal element that modifies the locative concept that follows. The eye-gaze turning to the listener has a twofold function here: co-­ occurring with the noun miles it is emphatic and it is underlined by an emphatic intonation; co-occurring with the prepositional phrase it emphasizes the spatial concept. In a few occasions, the British speaker uses eye-gaze towards the speaker within opening (ns) or returning to (pop) segments as in examples in Table 12. All these segments include concepts related to temporal references. These are marked by turning the eye-gaze towards the listener. They can be interpreted as building up temporal spaces. In segment 10 the speaker points to the time concept, but she maintains the eye-gaze until the end, linking this temporal information with a specific action and specific locative information. In line 79 a canonical linguistic time space builder is found co-occurring with eye-gaze shift to the listener i.e. eight days. However, in line 86, the eye-gaze just points to the main feature of the temporal span introduced, thus, coinciding with cherry blossom time. Another important gesture is the head beat, that is, a quick nod with the head. It is different from the head nod because it is not a repetitive tilting of the head up and down as when agreeing with something. Most head beats are used by this

Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 291



Table 13.  Head beats in new/returned spaces Lines 10 50 90

we drove up to Massachusetts we went back down to New York And they had a lovely swimming pool at university

Space

Hypotactic function

S3 S1 S2

ns pop/es pop/ns

Space

Hypotactic function

S6

ns

S6

com

Table 14.  Head beats and space builders Lines 29 30

Bear in mind … …. at that time there were all sorts of things which were so completely different

speaker mainly to mark the beginning and end of some segments. Within these, the head beat co-occurs with specific locative expressions as in examples in Table 13. Therefore, we may treat this gesture as a gestural locative space builder. Here we mark in bold the locative lexical expressions co-occurring with the head beat. As already mentioned, in line 10, the whole unit is linked with previous temporal information with eye-gaze towards the listener. This feature, as we already pointed out in the gesture analysis of the Spanish speaker, would drive us to a different segmentation of the text by dividing this idea unit into two segments. However, the limitations in the extension of this chapter do not allow exploring this issue here. Moreover, we find the head beat co-occurring with linguistic expressions that open up new segments as the one that introduces the reasons for her evaluation of her trip. As we see in Table 14, the narrator first marks the beginning of the linguistic expression bear in mind. Then, she marks the first element of the time space builder expression that time and then, in the next line (30), the adjective different, which is used within the evaluative segment, is also marked. After this introduction with the reasons of her evaluation of the American experience, she continues with an account of facts that exemplify or add evidence for the reasons of things being so different. The narrator marks the beginning of the enumeration (enu) in line 32 where the head beat co-occurs with first. Then, the concepts that form part of that enumeration co-occur with head beats in different segments. Here we have a case where the gesture behaviour would lead to change the textual segmentation of discourse. According to the beats, line 32 would have to be segmented into three units. In line 33, she introduces another referent that is interpreted as part of the

292 Ana Laura Rodríguez Redondo

Table 15.  Head beats and linguistic expressions Lines

Space

Hypotactic function

S6

Enu

S6

enu/sp

Lines

Space

Hypotactic function

49 Armed with the money, 72 And … the next day he appeared 116 and we looked up at the boss of a big insurance firm,

S1 S2 S4

pop/ns/repair pop/ns pop/ns

32

33

ah … First of all the food, and the clothes We didn’t have cars for everyone

Table 16.  Head beats in returns

enumeration (enu) but it is introduced as a specification (sp). In this line, the twofold conceptual functions are mapped onto a combination of gestures: to the use of the head beat she adds a little forward movement of the upper part of her body and a slower and deliberate speech, while looking at the listener. Although she does not use gestures systematically to set new spaces in the story, we have found three lines that reintroduce concepts previously presented thus, there is a return to a previously introduced space (see Table 16). In line 49, the beginning of the repair segment, the head beat points to the action concept armed. In lines 72 and 116, the eye-gaze co-occurs with the linguistic expression of the characters reintroduced in the story i.e. he (72) and boss (116). In sum, the British speaker guides the structural unfolding of discourse by using eye-gaze shifts with the function of pointing to those concepts she wanted to make relevant to the listener. Usually, these concepts coincide with locations, specifications or evaluative commentaries as observed in Tables 9, 10 and 11. Hence, eye-gaze shifting coincides with concepts that anchor the travelling frame and the conceptual anchors of the story. Especially, in the lines reproduced in Table 9, the eye-gaze as a catchment enhances both the attentional pragmatic function and the cohesive one. Eye-gaze shifts are also used to mark some openings or returns to previously opened spaces as shown in Table 12. Another functional gesture used by the British speaker is the head beat. Head beats are not frequently used with eye-gaze shifting, but used co-occurring with locative expressions that guide the opening or turning back to mental spaces previously set in the narrative, as those exemplified in Table 13. Moreover, we see head beats co-occurring with space building expressions as those in Tables 14 and 15. Finally, we observe the use of head beats for reintroducing concepts or for repairs as in the examples in Table 16.



Gesture structuring strategies in English and Spanish autobiographical narratives 293

5. Conclusions The goal of this chapter was the design of upgraded descriptive tools for the comparative study of gesture strategies used as discourse structuring tools of autobiographical oral narratives, more specifically: the use of Redeker’s (2006) model for both the textual and gesture segmentational analysis; the conceptualization of gestures as physical space builders and attentional markers that may co-occur with any linguistic expression at textual transition segments; the observation of the co-occurrence of gestures and linguistic expressions as physical projections of the conceptual unfolding of the fragmented structure of oral emotional narratives; and the identification of the pragmatic functions projected on gestures co-occurring at textual transition segments to identify gesture strategies used to guide the listener. In addition, I have shown that the combination of the analytical tools developed by Mental Spaces and Conceptual Integration Theory as applied to oral emotional narratives, as well as those used in the cognitive approach to gesture in narratives yield quite significant results regarding the conceptual unfolding of oral narratives projected on gesture strategies. The analysis of the two texts has shown different strategies in the two languages, speakers. The main discourse strategy used by the Spanish speaker is related to gestures that mark the different narrative spaces holding paratactic relations. This strategy guides the listener in and out of the hierarchically ordered structure of the narrative. Hence, gestures function as discourse markers. On the other hand, the British speaker’s main strategy is projected on gestures that mark the different concepts and conceptual stretches of the narrative mainly found within hypotactic segments. This strategy guides the listener through the main relevant or significant conceptual spaces within the narrative. Gestures in the British narrative function thus as attentional markers. In both cases head beats and head nods act as attentional markers coinciding with narrative anchors and with space builders. However, the coincidence of canonical linguistic expressions used as space builders with these beats or nods is more frequently found for the Spanish than for the British narrator. Moreover, in both speakers, their metanarrative use of gestures – head movements for the Spanish narrator and eye-gaze shifts for the British – are also used to mark narrative spaces that are not linguistically signalled. Two points, nevertheless, require further research: First, the specific strategies in the use of gestures found in this study have to be confirmed in further analysis with more extensive data before they can be generalized as structuring strategies beyond the personal idiosyncratic level. Second, once the data have been extended, the different narrative gesture strategies have to be related to specific cultural, educational and linguistic parameters.

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Index

A advertising discourse  113, 137, 139–145, 155–156, 246 Appraisal Theory  12, 215–217, 226, 234–238 see also evaluation argumentative strategies  215, 219, 240 see also persuasion strategies attention  115, 122, 124, 138, 139, 141, 145, 150, 152, 155, 156 attentional focus  288, 289 attentional functions  289, 290, 292 attentional markers  275, 288, 293 attentional strategies  288 austerity 79–105 B Blending Theory  22–25, 29, 31 blend  21–24, 27, 29, 30–31, 35–36, 117, 126, 172, 188, 197 see also novel blend see also Mental Spaces Theory see also Conceptual Integration Theory C Charteris-Black  80, 81, 85, 99, 215, 217, 219, 228, 231 Chilton  80, 81, 90, 219 Cienki  215, 225, 273, 274, 276 civil engineering discourse  187–196, 205–206, 208–210 see also technical discourse cognitive models  86, 98, 116, 247 see also socio-cognitive models Cognitive Sociolinguistics  3, 39–42, 67 see also Sociolinguistics

collective  4, 6, 7, 35, 80, 128, 172, 192, 276 collective cognition  4, 104 collective identity  160 collective memory  159–160, 162, 176, 180, 278 colloquial Belgian Dutch  39–40, 42, 46, 48–57, 65–67 community  41, 48, 159, 179, 189–190 of practice  44 see also discourse community Conceptual Integration Theory  5, 7, 112, 114, 116–118, 126, 131, 132, 250, 275, 293 see also Blending Theory see also Mental Spaces Theory Conceptual Metaphor Theory  22, 29, 41, 80–82, 161, 238 see also metaphor corpus-based analysis  3, 79–82, 98, 103–104 cosmetics ads  137–139, 146– 149, 155 see also advertising discourse creativity  6–7, 137–140, 142, 156 see also novelty Critical Discourse Analysis  81–82, 150–160, 176, 215, 218–219 cultural model  41, 104, 116, 117 D van Dijk  1, 2, 13, 99, 160, 215, 216, 218, 219, 248, 249 Dutch language  46, 48–51, 53, 57, 64–66 see also colloquial Belgian Dutch see also tussentaal digital story  111–114, 116–122, 129, 132–133

discourse community  7, 188–191, 196 discourse strategies see strategies E economic discourse  80, 82, 98 embodiment  4, 80, 90, 98, 101, 161, 169 see also situatedness emotion  2, 5, 98–99, 122, 125, 144, 161, 169, 171 emotional  54, 63, 80, 82, 103–104, 112, 120, 170, 173, 218, 226, 237, 274–275, 278, 293 empirical  2, 4, 7–8, 21, 23, 41, 49, 82, 103–104, 210, 215, 217, 240 see also corpus-based analysis evaluation  26, 27, 119, 141–142, 147, 148, 152, 153, 155–156, 216–219, 225–226, 234– 240, 260, 263, 281, 282, 291 see also Appraisal Theory F Fairclough  1, 99, 160, 188, 218 Fauconnier  5, 112, 116, 131, 188, 197, 210, 249, 250, 256, 273, 275 Forceville  6, 116, 137–140, 143, 144, 188, 189, 193, 197, 201, 208 functional-cognitive approach  112–115, 129–132, 274 G Gavins  245–247, 256–258 gestures eye-gaze  278–279, 286–293 head beat  279, 283–293 head nod  279, 283–287, 290, 293 Grondelaers  2, 51, 52, 67

298 Exploring Discourse Strategies in Social and Cognitive Interaction

H habitus  5, 6 Hart  81, 217, 219 Hunston  215, 216, 225–226, 234–237, 240 I ideology  82, 98–99, 160, 221, 224, 229–230, 233, 235, 240 image schemas  85, 90–92, 96–97, 101, 103, 143, 161–162, 169–171, 174, 176, 180 identity  40–42, 44, 50–51, 55, 64, 66, 68, 113, 219 individual  4–6, 23, 31–35, 39–43, 46, 48, 51, 55, 67, 80, 88, 99, 102, 104, 159, 160, 178, 179, 219, 221 J Johnson  3, 4, 6, 81, 82, 85, 90, 92, 161, 225, 238 K Kövecses  6, 82, 116, 161, 187, 195, 205, 210, 217, 218, 220, 221, 224, 232 Kress  5, 112–115, 120, 131, 138, 143, 145, 146 L Lakoff  3, 4, 6, 28, 34, 80–82, 85, 86, 92, 101, 102, 128, 161, 190, 193, 215–218, 221, 224, 225, 228–230, 233, 238–239, 256 van Leeuwen  112, 114, 115, 120, 131, 138, 143, 144–146 M manipulation  80–82, 98, 218, 247 see also persuasion Martin and White  26–217, 226, 234 McNeill  116, 274, 276, 277, 279, 288 meaning meaning construction  5–7, 40, 113, 114, 121, 130–131, 133, 149, 160, 162, 170, 173, 176, 188, 191, 250

meaning making  5, 111–114, 124, 129–130, 132, 162 meaning creation  115, 138, 143, 193 Mental Spaces Theory  112, 116, 131, 250, 274–276 see also Blending Theory see also Conceptual Integration Theory metonymy  25, 30, 36, 104, 126, 188, 193–194, 197, 203, 207, 209, 221 modes  3, 5–7, 112, 114–116, 119, 121, 126, 129–132, 138, 140–141, 143, 151, 155–156, 178, 188–189, 193–194, 197, 209 visual mode  117, 122, 141, 155 acoustic/aural mode  117, 141, 144 verbal mode  140, 155, 156 narrative mode  138 descriptive mode  141, 151 moral  79–80, 88, 92, 95, 98–99, 101–104, 218, 228, 239, 244, 278 morality  81, 92, 98, 101–102, 218, 232, 244 multimodal analysis  114, 131–132 strategies  121, 129–130 resource  130, 139, 140–142, 147, 152–153 discourse  5–6, 11, 116, 132–133, 138, 162, 181 metaphor  6, 116, 126–129, 132, 137–138, 140, 143–144, 146, 150–156 narratives  112–113, 145, 149, 152, 156 narrativity  138–141, 146 multimodality  5, 7, 114, 137–138 multisemiotic  137–138, 140, 143, 145, 156 Musolff  6, 23, 80, 81, 205, 216, 217, 219, 220 myth  33, 89, 99 N narrative structure  138, 140, 145–146, 152, 274

narrative space  251, 273–282, 287, 293 narrativity  138–142, 147, 155 novel  6, 22, 24, 28, 139 blend  22, 24, 28 metaphor 139 novelty  22, 139 see also creativity P persuasion  80–82, 98–99, 132, 142, 218 see also manipulation pluricentric language  48 political discourse  80–82, 90, 98–99, 216–220, 224 Portuguese 79–105 R reality TV  39, 42, 45 S segmentation  273–275, 280, 287, 291, 293 Semantics Objectivist Semantics  28 Cognitive Semantics  31 Sharifian  4, 5, 28 Sinha  31, 162 situated  80–82, 98, 104, 160, 188 situatedness  4, 9, 105, 160, 180 socio-cognitive  2, 4–8, 81–82, 103–105, 138–139, 191–192, 209–210, 247, 252, 268, 274–275, 278 sociocultural  5, 82, 98, 103, 105, 209, 221 socio-historical  3, 6, 21, 28, 30, 98, 105, 173, 180 Sociolinguistics  39–42, 51, 67, 68 see also Cognitive Sociolinguistics Speelman  4, 41, 46, 49–52, 54, 55, 67 standardisation 48 strategies accommodation strategies  42, 53

Index 299

argumentative strategies  215, 240 attentional strategies  288 creative strategy  152, 155 discourse strategies  1–2, 5–7, 13, 55, 67, 81, 103, 111, 137–140, 156, 160, 162, 176, 180, 239, 247, 252, 260–261, 267, 279, 293 gesture strategies  273, 283–284, 287–288, 293 guiding strategies  118 meaning-construction strategies  112, 114, 121, 123–125, 129–132 narrative strategies  129, 156, 245, 267

persuasion strategies  80– 82, 98–99, 105, 240 structuring strategies  273–274, 279 world-building strategies  245–246, 253, 259, 267–268 style-shifting 40–58 T technical discourse  190 see also civil engineering discourse Text World Theory  245–252, 256–257, 265–268 Text linguistics  33, 249 Turner  5, 85, 86, 92, 112, 116, 128, 131, 188, 197, 210, 228, 273, 275

tussentaal 48 television ads / TV commercials  137–156 V variation  23, 39–43, 46, 49–54, 195, 205, 209, 220–221, 230, 253 W Werth  245–252, 256–258 Z Zlatev  4, 81, 176

This volume ofers readers interested in Discourse Analysis and/or Socio-Cognitive models of language a closer view of the relationship between discourse, cognition and society by disclosing how the cognitive mechanisms of discourse processing depend on shared knowledge and situated cognition. An inter- and multidisciplinary approach is proposed that combines theories and methodologies coming from Conceptual Metaphor Theory, Multimodal Metaphor Theory, Critical Discourse Analysis, Narratology, Systemic Functional Linguistics, Appraisal Theory, together with the most recent developments of Socio-Cognitive Linguistics, for the analysis of real communicative events, which range from TV reality shows, commercials, digital stories or political debates, to technical texts, architectural memorials, newspapers and autobiographical narratives. Still, several key notions are recurrent in all contributions -embodiment, multimodality, conceptual integration, metaphor, and creativity- as the fundamental constituents of discourse processing. It is only through this wide-ranging epistemological and empirical approach that the complexity of discourse strategies in real contexts, i.e. human communication, can be fully comprehended, and that discourse analysis and cognitive linguistics can be brought closer together.

“Human beings – seamlessly mental, social, and cultural – deploy various strategies to construct meaning. This interesting book starts there, studies authentic participants actually communicating, and ofers valuable applications of cognitive science within the ields of semiotics and discourse studies.” Mark Turner, Case Western Reserve University “This book provides unprecedented coverage of a range of topics at the interface between discourse studies and cognitive linguistics. A wide range of research methods are covered in the

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various chapters, and there is some ground-breaking research in here. A must-read for researchers and students.” Jeanette Littlemore, University of Birmingham

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