The Construction of 'Ordinariness' across Media Genres 9027204284, 9789027204288

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The Construction of ‘Ordinariness’ across Media Genres edi t ed by Anita Fetzer Elda Weizman

John Benjamins Publishing Company

The Construction of ‘Ordinariness’ across Media Genres

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 Herman Parret

Jef Verschueren

Robyn Carston

Sachiko Ide

Paul Osamu Takahara

Thorstein Fretheim

Kuniyoshi Kataoka

John C. Heritage

Miriam A. Locher

Jacob L. Mey

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

Sophia S.A. Marmaridou University of Athens

Srikant Sarangi

Aalborg University

Marina Sbisà

University of Trieste

Kobe City University of Foreign Studies

Sandra A. Thompson

University of California at Santa Barbara

Teun A. van Dijk

Universitat Pompeu Fabra, Barcelona

Chaoqun Xie

Fujian Normal University

Yunxia Zhu

The University of Queensland

Volume 307 The Construction of ‘Ordinariness’ across Media Genres Edited by Anita Fetzer and Elda Weizman

The Construction of ‘Ordinariness’ across Media Genres Edited by

Anita Fetzer University of Augsburg

Elda Weizman Bar-Ilan University

John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdam / Philadelphia

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TM

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.307 Cataloging-in-Publication Data available from Library of Congress: lccn 2019031186 (print) / 2019031187 (e-book) isbn 978 90 272 0428 8 (Hb) isbn 978 90 272 6197 7 (e-book)

© 2019 – 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 Elda Weizman and Anita Fetzer

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Part I.  Constructing ordinariness in politicians’ discourse Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people? Candidates’ selfpresentation strategies on Twitter during the 2016 Austrian presidential election campaign Helmut Gruber “You bring the steaks, I’ll bring the salad”: Presenting ordinariness in PM Netanyahu’s public talks Zohar Livnat Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions Anita Fetzer and Peter Bull “Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?”: Different readings of ordinariness in a politician’s Facebook post as a case in point Pnina Shukrun-Nagar

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Part II.  Constructing ordinariness in experts’ discourse “I can do math, but I’m not that smart. I’m not brilliant”: Ordinariness as a discursive resource in United States radiophonic financial call-in interactions Gonen Dori-Hacohen Ordinary science Rony Armon Constructing ‘ordinariness’: An analysis of Jack Ma’s narrative identities on Sina Weibo Chaoqun Xie and Ying Tong

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The Construction of ‘Ordinariness’ across Media Genres

Part III.  Constructing ordinariness in ordinary media Constructing ordinariness in online commenting in Hebrew and Finnish Elda Weizman and Marjut Johansson Ordinary people’s political discourse in old and new French media: Evolution and problems Hassan Atifi and Michel Marcoccia

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When being quotidian meets being ordinary Yoshiko Matsumoto

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Index

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Introduction1 Elda Weizman and Anita Fetzer

Bar-Ilan University, Israel / Augsburg University, Germany

People in westernised societies rely more and more on media in their everyday lives, and fewer and fewer face-to-face communications are solely anchored in the private spheres of life. Rather, there are mostly blended interactions involving digital technologies, which are simultaneous, multimodal and multichannel. The blurring of boundaries resulting from performing mediated interactions within non-mediated interactions, and non-mediated interactions within mediated interactions does not only have an impact on how interactants conceptualise private and public domains of life, but also private- and public-domain-anchored discourse identities. The dynamics of the transitions from non-mediated interactions to mediated interactions and vice versa, from private domains to public domains, and from private to public discourse identities and vice versa is reflexive on the contextual constraints and requirements of how things would be ordinarily done in private domains of life and in public domains of life, and consequently on how they would not usually be done. It is also reflexive on who would count as an ordinary private- or an ordinary public discourse identity, and who would not count as an ordinary private or public discourse identity. The transitions from private to public are gradient as there are also semi-private and semi-public domains. In fact, the blurring of boundaries between private and public domains is – in reality – far more complex as mediated and non-mediated interactions are embedded in other interactions, which are embedded in even further interactions. These are the result of the affordances of mediated interactions which allow interactants to participate in multi-frame interactions utilising a variety of meta-frames. The affordances of social media allow participants through their comments to have the opportunity of engaging actively in and through social media (cf. Boyd 2014). The changes in participation are not only reflected in the blurring of 1.  The research of the authors of this introduction and editors of the volume has been supported by a grant from the German Israeli Foundation for Scientific Research and Development (GIF Grant I-153-104.3-2017) https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.01wei © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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traditional boundaries between private and public spheres of life with ordinary and non-ordinary private-domain-anchored interactants and ordinary and nonordinary public-domain-anchored interactants, but also in changing domains of argumentative validity, i.e. real-world experience and real-world-anchored arguments which have generally been attributed to ordinary people, and academicworld experience and academic-anchored arguments which have been attributed to the elites of society. The duality inherent in ordinary speakers anchored in the private spheres of life and non-ordinary speakers anchored in the public spheres of life is also reflected in the differentiation between lay vs. expert voices in public participation programmes (cf. Simon-Vandenbergen 2007), with another relevant presupposed distinction between expert knowledge as knowledge based not on real life-world experience, and lay knowledge as knowledge based on life-world experience, or “the modernist separation of expertise and common sense” (Livingstone and Lunt 1994: 101). Livingstone and Lunt juxtapose the original evaluations of experts and lay persons with the recasted communicative value of lay and expert voices in the media programmes with public participation. Whereas ordinary evaluations see experts as objective, grounded in data, rational, replicable and general, abstract, neutral, factual and counter-intuitive, and lay persons as subjective, ungrounded, emotional, particular, concrete, motivated, supposition-based and obvious, in media programmes with public participation expert voices are conceived of as alienated, fragmented, cold, irrelevant, ungrounded, empty of meaning, useless and artificial, and lay voices as authentic, narrative, hot, relevant, in depth, grounded in experience, meaningful, practical and real (cf. Livingstone and Lunt 1994: 102). D’Ancona takes the argument further by pointing out the social-media-based changes with respect to the construction of ‘hyper-reality’ as “the mode of discourse in which the gap between the real and the imaginary disappears” (D’Ancona 2017: 97), illustrating the possibilities of the news media as follows: “In the past, a man (…) would have worn a sandwich board and yelled at passers-by in the street. Now he has access to the most powerful politician in the world. What is so important to recognise is that this reflects a structural change” (D’Ancona 2017: 63). The advent of social media and the changing participation formats have enabled so-called ordinary people to assign their life worlds the status of an object of talk in the mediated public domain and introduce changing domains of argumentative validity. Real-time networks of participants in non-mediated interactions have become virtual-time networks in mediated interactions, and so-called authentic data from non-mediated interactions in real time and real space have become representational data of mediated interactions dislocated from time and space.



Introduction

The role of ordinary people – also referred to as ordinary citizens – has been examined from the perspectives of political science as regards democratization (Bayat 2013), social psychology with respect to personal narratives and personal change as well as in the context of mass killing and genocide (Waller 2007), and economics regarding consumer research, cooperate identities and leadership (Ward, Bauman and Kakabadse 2007). The approach to the representation of ordinariness across media genres promoted by this volume edited volume, which is grounded in a panel organised at the International Pragmatics Association in Belfast 2017, is informed by pragmatics, interactional sociolinguistics, ethnomethodology, positioning theory and functional approaches to discourse – and their premise that language is a socially situated form. In that framework, background assumptions about discourse genres and participants are brought into the interaction and brought about in the interaction (cf. Gumperz 1992, 1996; Lauerbach and Fetzer 2007; Fetzer 2007). Adapted to ordinary and non-ordinary participants, both are brought into the interaction, and both are brought about in the interaction by participants acting in accordance or in dis-accordance with the contextual requirements and entitlements of ordinariness and non-ordinariness. Ordinariness represents a scalar notion which is conceptualised against the background of both non-ordinariness and extra-ordinariness. While ordinary speakers are brought into the media discourse and thus are a constitutive part of it, as is the case with reality shows, audience-participation TV programmes and participatory online journalism, the brought-in concept of ordinary or non-ordinary participant may also be reconstructed locally or deconstructed locally in the discourse in order to achieve particular perlocutionary effects. This may happen, for instance, when public figures such as politicians assign their private lives the status of an object of talk in the context of public talk (Fetzer 2018), or when ordinary speakers assign themselves, explicitly or implicitly, the status of non-ordinary speaker, such as an expert in blogs or in commenting, or a moderator of a live stream panel on current topics. But there are more complex manifestations of the interactional construction of the ordinary / non-ordinary spectrum, such as staged ordinariness or challenged ordinariness. Ordinariness is always conceptualised against the background of non-ordinariness, that is whenever ordinariness is foregrounded in the interaction, non-ordinariness is backgrounded, and non-ordinariness is always conceptualised against the background of extra-ordinariness referring to participants who have transcended the group of ordinary people by being entitled to particular rights, and also obligations, in society. Societies generally provide narratives of extra-ordinariness which entail narratives of ordinariness as well as embedded stories of non-ordinariness (Bhaya Nair 2017).

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In the following, we discuss two concepts which we consider central for our understanding of the construction of ordinariness: doing ordinariness and positioning as ordinary. 1. Ordinariness and ethnomethodology In On doing ‘being ordinary Sacks investigates “how, in ordinary conversation, people, in reporting on some event, report what we might see to be, not what happened, but the ordinariness of what happened” (Sacks 1984: 414). In ethnomethodological terms, ordinariness is something which is not attributed to social events and social agents per se, but rather something which participants do: “(...) there is the job of being an ordinary person, and that job includes attending the world, yourself, others, objects, so as to see how it is that it is a usual scene” (Sacks 1984: 417). However, ordinary in ethnomethodological terms does not mean ‘average’ or ‘non-exceptional’, that is “a non-exceptional person on some statistical basis” (Sacks 1984: 415) but rather “something that is the way somebody constitutes oneself, and, in effect, a job that persons and the people around them may be coordinatively engaged in, to achieve that each of them, together, are ordinary persons” (Sacks 1984: 415). The interactional organisation of ordinariness does not only depend on individuals and how they present themselves in discourse, but rather on their social status and entitlement to different kinds of experience, and to voicing those kinds of experience in discourse, as described by Sacks (1984: 424): “In part, I am saying that it is a fact that entitlement to experiences are differently available”. For the analysis of mediated discourse and its contextual constraints and requirements this means that elites of a society are entitled to access to the media; they thus have multiple media outlets at their disposal for voicing their experience, while ordinary people are entitled to restricted media access and thus have fewer options for making their voices heard in the traditional types of media (Fetzer and Weizman 2018). The entitlement to making people’s voices heard in the media can be further refined with respect to their entitlement to conversational story-telling, a more private-domain anchored format of making personal experience heard in the media. The impact of conversational story-telling is described by Sacks as follows: “So the placing of the story in the conversation and the placing of the conversation in the recipient’s life are ways that you go about locating the importance of the story” (Sacks 1984: 428). While Sacks investigated the entitlement to experience and the placing of stories in discourse in general, the chapters of this edited volume adapt these two pillars to the context of the mediated arena and examine the questions of when and in what format ordinary-life stories about ordinary-life experience and



Introduction

ordinary-life problems are told, what communicative functions these stories may fulfil, and how they are followed up or not followed up in mediated discourse and its variety of possible outlets, such as commenters' sections. Ordinariness and non-ordinariness are not a-priori concepts. Rather, they are constructed in and through discourse, and their constructions are used strategically to achieve particular communicative goals that may vary across cultural contexts. Ordinariness is not attributed to social events and social agents per se, but it is interactionally organised by participants by “doing ‘being ordinary’” (Sacks 1984: 414). From a socio-cognitive, context-anchored perspective which explicitly considers background assumptions and common ground, the interactional organisation of ordinariness is only possible if the participants’ background knowledge about how things are generally done ‘ordinarily’ and how they are done ‘non-ordinarily’ is considered. Doing things ordinarily and non-ordinarily does not only refer to the communicative events as such, but also to participants performing the events and discourse participants performing the events reported on, and thus to participants with a more and less ‘ordinary status’, that is ‘less ordinary participants’, if not ‘extra-ordinary participants’, as is also pointed out by Sacks: “There are people who do not have that [spending time in usual ways, having usual thoughts, having usual interests] available to do, and who specifically cannot be ordinary” (Sacks 1984: 415). More macro-oriented understandings of (non)-ordinariness rely on the notions of power and professionalism. Viewed in terms of power, the construction of ordinariness and non-ordinariness is interdependent on the availability and entitlement of different kinds of experience, and thus on both power and its exercise: “Power, in short, does not name an event but names a capacity, or ability. Because power is manifest in its exercise, we will (…) analyze not only sentences ascribing power but sentences about its exercise. (…) A common way, but not the only way, to exercise power is to give people reasons for actions that they would otherwise not have” (Searle 2010: 146). Providing people with reasons for action can only be achieved within interactions which are felicitous. For a felicitous communication of ‘reasons for actions’, the reasons need to be anchored in the participants’ private spheres of life – or real-life world experience – while at the same time pointing to relevant bridging points with social context: “in order for a society to have a political reality in our sense, it needs (…) a distinction between the public and the private sphere with the political as part of the public sphere [original emphasis]” (Searle 2010: 170).

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2. Ordinariness and positioning theory Ethnomethodology has examined ‘doing ordinariness’ by participants in the context of mundane face-to-face interactions, and it has put the premise of accountability of social action (Garfinkel 1994) in the centre of analysis. This means that participants not only perform social actions but are also able to account for their actions as they know, at some level, what they say and what they mean by their utterances. The premise of accountability of social action is anchored to a retrospective-prospective outlook on communication, and it requires social actions to be conceptualised as indexical and reflexive (Garfinkel 1994). By accounting for their social actions, social actors demonstrate substantive rationality and daily life rationalities. Reflexivity is also a fundamental premise of positioning theory. One positions oneself in relation to other participants – interlocutors or third parties – and by so doing also positions them; and vice versa, by positioning other participants one positions oneself. Positioning is dynamic and interactive: first-order positioning, posited by one of the participants from the outset, can be negotiated by the participants in discourse, be modified accordingly, and thus achieve second-order positioning (Davies and Harré 1990; Harré and Van Langenhove 1999; Weizman 2008). The relations between position and discourse is bi-directional: people are positioned through discursive practices, and their “individual subjectivity” is generated through them (Davies and Harré 1990: 43). First order acts have immediate perlocutionary effects, and are therefore “performative”. Second-order positionings necessarily involve the use of a wide variety of discursive patterns. Additionally, they may involve meta-talk on roles and positions (Weizman 2008, 2013, 2014). In the context of ordinariness, accountability is relevant in yet another way. Positioning inherently involves the assignment of rights, duties and obligations (Harré and Van Langenhove 1999), and as such, it is highly indexed by the participants’ perceptions of the accountability inherent in the position interactively assigned to themselves, their interlocutors as well as third parties. Thus, by reflexively positioning a participant as “ordinary”, “non-ordinary” or “extra-ordinary”, one ‘does ordinariness’; by interactively negotiating second-order or thirdorder positioning one strategically constructs ordinariness and the accountability related to it. For example, when in a much-debated post, the (at the time) Israeli Minister of Finance Ya’ir Lapid draws the fictitious picture of “Mrs. Riki from Hadera” as the epitome of Israeli middle class, he in fact describes the way she “does being ordinary” by being accountable for her civil duties  – she works hard and pays her taxes. In other words, he constructs ordinariness as “a job that persons and the people around them may be coordinatively engaged in, to achieve that each



Introduction

of them, together, are ordinary persons” (Sacks 1984: 415). Through the explicit construction of ordinariness as an object of talk, he positions Mrs. Cohen, the personification of ordinariness, as accountable for her civil actions, and reciprocally self-positions, in his capacity as Minister of Finance, and the government he represents, as accountable to her. Journalists who challenge Lapid’s perception of ordinary citizen, i.e. his description of her way of life, implicitly position him as non-ordinary by bringing up his distanciation from “the people”. However, they unanimously agree with the basic premise that the political elite should be accountable to the ordinary person (Weizman and Fetzer 2018). The interactional organisation of ordinariness is interdependent on discourse genre, as is examined below. 3. Ordinariness and genre theory The impact of genre2 on the production and interpretation of meaning has already been mentioned in the discussion of interactional sociolinguistics and other functional approaches to discourse, which are based on the premise that language is a socially situated form and that language variation and alteration are not random or arbitrary, but communicatively functional and meaningful. The use of language – and naturally also the use of other semiotic systems – is always embedded in the delimiting frame of a discourse genre3 with its genre-specific constraints, in accordance with which discursive contributions are produced and interpreted. This is not to say that discourse genres are normative and that interlocutors have to produce all of their discursive contributions in accordance with genre-specific constraints. They have the option of acting in dis-accordance with genre-specific constraints, but only locally, as has been shown for the interactional organisation of the discourse genre of political interviews (Fetzer 2000; Fetzer and Bull 2013; Weizman 2003). The possibility of challenging interactional roles in political interviews is a case in point: interviewing norms may be locally challenged either explicitly (through the use of meta-talk) or implicitly (e.g. through the use of irony), but the very practice of challenge is made possible only as part of 2.  Cap and Okulska (2013) and the contributions to their edited volume provide a detailed overview of genre theory and discuss genres as abstractions and genres as flexible macro structures, for instance. They also point out their function of activating situational contexts (2013: 4) and discuss the impact of mediatization on genre (2013: 8). 3.  In this chapter discourse genre is used as an umbrella term and considered functionally equivalent to communicative genre (Luckmann 1995), activity type (Levinson 1979), macro speech act (van Dijk 1980) or communicative project (Linell 1998).

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the overall genre-specific collective purpose shared by the participants (Weizman 1998, 2008). Political discourse  – and thus political discourse genres (Cap and Okulska 2013) – have undergone important changes in our digitalised and medialised societies, and that is why a felicitous analysis of politics and of political discourse, and consequently political discourse genres should consider multilayered, context-dependent phenomena with fuzzy boundaries. This does not only hold for the discourse-genre-as-a-whole, but also for all of its constitutive parts, for instance sequential organisation and turn-taking, genre-specific production and interpretation of language use and of other semiotic codes, negotiation of meaning, and the discursive construction of identities and ideologies. Interlocutors may act in dis-accordance with genre-specific constraints locally, but nevertheless need act in accordance with the genre-specific constraints globally, as is reflected in Thibault’s definition of genre, which differentiates between ‘type’ and ‘token’, with the former having the status of some kind of blueprint, and the latter referring to its realisation in context. Furthermore, he makes a distinction between local discursive contribution and discourse genre, a kind of global discursive contribution: Rather, genres are types. But they are types in a rather peculiar way. Genres do not specify the lexicogrammatical resources of word, phrase, clause, and so on. Instead, they specify the typical [original emphasis] ways in which these are combined and deployed so as to enact the typical semiotic action formations of a given community. (Thibault 2003: 44)

The ‘typical ways’ of doing things with words in a discourse genre do not only comprise the linguistic realisation of discursive contributions, but also the interactional organisation of discourse identities and their genre- and participant-specific rights and obligations, as has been shown for the interactional organisation of responsibility in political interviews (Fetzer 2016) and for challenges to interactional roles (Weizman 2006). Connected intrinsically with the ‘typical ways’ of doing things with words in a discourse genre – or in an activity type, in Levinson’s terms – are inferential schemata: … there is another important and related fact, in many ways the mirror image of the constraints on contributions, namely the fact that for each and every clearly demarcated activity there is a set of inferential schemata [original emphasis]. These schemata are tied to (derived from, if one likes) the structural properties of the activity in question. (Levinson 1979: 370)

The local production and interpretation of discursive meaning as well as the global (or: discourse-genre-based) production and interpretation of meaning requires both local and global conversational inferencing, as pointed out by Gumperz:



Introduction

It is useful to distinguish between two levels of inference in analyses of interpretive processes: (a) global inferences of what the exchange is about and what mutual rights and obligations apply, what topics can be brought up, what is wanted by way of a reply, as well as what can be put into words and what is to be implied, and (b) local inferences concerning what is intended with my one move and what is required by way of a response. (Gumperz 2003: 14)

Both interactional sociolinguistics and ethnomethodology are based on the premise of indexicality of communicative action. While the former conceives of language as a socially situated form and considers discourse genre as the basic unit of investigation to which its constitutive discursive contributions refer indexically thereby interactionally organising the genre-as-a-whole, the latter relates the indexicality of social action to practical reasoning from means to ends, goals and purposes, in particular to the operations et cetera, let it pass, unless and ad hocing (Garfinkel 1994: 21). This allows ethnomethodology to postulate another fundamental premise derived from indexicality and practical reasoning: accountability of social action. Thus, the resolution of linguistic expressions and of other semiotic signs depends on their indexical references to metasystems, which constrain discursive production and discursive meaning-making processes. The premise of indexicality of communicative action and the status of discourse genre as metasystems which constrains the production and interpretation of discursive meaning is not delimited by the discourse-genre-as-such. Rather, discourse genres are embedded in other discourse genres, which are embedded in sociocultural context, as is the case with discourse in the media in general and discourse in social media in particular. In a sociology-anchored outlook on communication, discourse genre represents a “universal formative element of human communication” (Luckmann 1995: 177), operating “on a level between the socially constructed and transmitted codes of ‘natural’ languages and the reciprocal adjustment of perspectives” (ibid.). Discourse genres are not only important because of their status as metasystems; they also connect individual action with collective goals (Alexander and Giesen 1987), thus bridging the gap between monolithic participants and their discursive and interactional roles and functions in multilayered interactions. Discourse genres are types with fuzzy boundaries and their interactional organisation allows for local, if not global variation. Their particularisation goes hand in hand with changes in social norms and values, as is reflected in the emergence of new discourse genres in the social media. It is also reflected in the more general process of conversationalisation of (British) institutional discourse (Fairclough 1992), and particularly of media talk, in the Australian, British and Israeli contexts (e.g. Winter 1993; Fairclough 1995, 1998; Tolson 2006, Weizman 2008).

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The construction of ordinariness in the media utilises various discourse genres, which are interdependent on the discourse domain and on whether they are a constitutive part of more traditional media discourse or a part of socialmedia discourse. For instance, political discourse may use a number of different discourse genres, such as statements and speeches in the contexts of election campaigns, summit meetings or party conferences, as well as interviews in TV or print media, multi-party discourse in panel interviews or parliamentary debates. It is their particularisation through journalistic and technical mediation (Kampf 2013), especially the adaptation of discourse genres to technological affordances, which is relevant to the construction of ordinariness in the media. Ordinary people may nowadays participate in audience participation programmes in mediated discourse, for instance panel interviews, standing in for the interviewer and asking questions, or by members of the home audience, calling in or sending emails and texts. Most recently, the evolution of the internet and the professionalisation of digital discourse has brought about new forms of communication and opened up new arenas for discourse, e.g. social networks, online discussion forums, Twitter or blogs. The interactional organisation of ordinariness in the media has become reframed as staged ordinariness, as is examined below. 4. Mediated ordinariness As noted above, ethnomethodology has focused “on doing being ordinary” in the context of mundane everyday conversation, and positioning theory provides a framework for expanding the frame of reference to positioning third parties as ordinary, non-ordinary and extra-ordinary. In mediated interactions, for example online op-eds., posts, and forms of follow-ups such as commenting on op-eds and on politicians’ blogs, the interactional organisation of ordinariness is constrained by the contextual requirements of the media and those of the institution. While the telling of stories in mundane conversation is negotiated face-to-face as regards “the placing of the story in the conversation and the placing of the conversation in the recipient’s life” as “ways that you go about locating the importance of the story” (Sacks 1984: 428), their telling and the negotiation of their relevance and their impact on the participants in the media is multilayered because of the inherent complexity of media communication and its constitutive media frames, which have been referred to as first-frame and media-frame interactions (Fetzer 2006). With the explicit accommodation of audience interaction and follow-ups in the various types of (social) media (Weizman and Fetzer 2015; Fetzer, Weizman and Berlin 2015), the original distinction between private and public spheres of life



Introduction

has become blurred. Personal stories anchored in the private-spheres-of life are told to a mediated general public, they may be taken up by other members of the mediated public and followed up in further mediated and non-mediated types of discourse. This blurring of boundaries is not new. It has already been identified in more “traditional” media, i.e. television and radio shows, for example through the notion of “chat” as a genre which involves “a topical shift toward the ‘personal’ (as opposed to the institutional), or towards the ‘private’ (as opposed to the ‘public’) (Tolson 1991: 180). Obviously, the new media has brought in additional dimensions of hybridity. Media-frame-based references to the private domains of life have been used strategically in the political arena to contribute to the interactional organisation of credibility (e.g., Fetzer 2002, 2007; Goebel 2016; Landert and Jucker 2011; Matsumoto 2015), and they have been exploited – in Gricean terms (1975) – in order to get in conversational implicatures through which participants are given reasons for actions triggered by making some “entitlement to experiences (…) available” (Sacks 1984: 424) to which the addressed participants usually would not have been entitled. For instance, ordinary speakers – either as singled-out individuals, generic types or some collective – and ordinary events can be assigned the status of an object of talk in media contexts, which may have so far predominantly been occupied with non-ordinary speakers and their non-ordinary experience. Furthermore, ordinary citizens’ access to the media has a marked impact on political life, as in the case of grassroot movements in Europe and in the Middle East.

This volume This volume addresses the question of how ordinariness is constructed across different contexts and discourse genres, and across different languages: American English (Dori-Hacohen), Austrian German (Gruber), British English (Fetzer and Bull), Chinese (Xie and Tong), French (Atifi and Marcoccia), Finnish (Johansson) and Hebrew (Armon, Livnat, Shukrun-Nagar, Weizman). All papers start with the premise that (a) ordinariness is not an a-priori concept, i.e. that it is dynamically constructed in and through discourse; (b) that ordinariness represents a scalar notion which is conceptualised against the background of both non-ordinariness and extra-ordinariness. The volume falls in three parts, addressing the construction of ordinariness in three different contexts in the media: politicians’ discourse, experts’ discourse and ordinary discourse. Political discourse is public, institutional, mediated and professional, to various degrees. It is discourse about politics done by politicians and thus discourse by elites – or discourse from above as discussed in the first part - but it is also discourse about politics by members of the non-elite  – or

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discourse from below. What is more, political discourse is both process and product: it is negotiated in discourse genres in the media and it is negotiated across discourse genres in the media and across the media. Political discourse intersects with experts’ discourse to various degrees, and has also undergone a process of recontextualisation as expert discourse from above, and expert discourse from below, as is addressed in the second part of the volume. Ordinary discourse as examined in the third part is located at the interface of political discourse and expert discourse. In all of the chapters the discourse analysed goes beyond doing ‘ordinariness’ or ‘extra-ordinariness’ in the private, respectively public domains of life, demonstrating how genre-specific constraints may be stretched to accommodate the speaker’s communicative goals. They allow for the positioning and presentation of ordinary interlocutors as ‘non-ordinary’, and of extra-ordinary interlocutors as ‘ordinary’. Both ordinary and extra-ordinary positioned interlocutors narrate private-domain anchored real-life experience and real-life arguments in the mediated public domain. For the ordinary interlocutor this mean ‘doing extra-ordinariness’, and for the extra-ordinary interlocutor, it means ‘doing ordinariness’. The first part consists of 5 contributions, addressing elite politicians’ construction of ordinariness in political discourse in the media. Gruber examines media talk, in particular interactions in the social media, in the Goffmanean framework of the presentation of self. Adopting the distinction between information given and information given off to the contextual constraints and requirements of the social media, he argues for the category of information as if given off. Focusing on self- presentation as an ordinary person by the candidates during the 2016 Austrian presidential campaign on Twitter, he discusses the impact of the affordances of technical mediation on the genre of tweet, distinguishing between communicated and staged ordinariness, and identifies different forms in terms of their pictorial and verbal features. Livnat argues for the duality of politicians’ self-positioning as ordinary as well as epic, thus showing how the discourse genre of public speech and its mediation allows for the accommodation of fluidity and hybridity. Focusing on the discursive practices employed by Israeli PM Netanyahu in his public talks, she highlights the construction of an image that on the one hand, all citizens can identify and empathize with, and on the other, presents him as unique and irreplaceable. Making a distinction between positive and average ordinariness, she puts forward the culture specificity of ordinariness, and further elaborates on the notion of staging ordinariness “as if given off ”. Fetzer and Bull investigate the strategic use of quotations sourced by ordinary people in the elite context of Prime Minister’s Questions in the British parliament. They focus on interchanges between the Prime Minister and the Leader of the



Introduction

Opposition and their strategic use of quotations sourced by ordinary people, foregrounding their political issues and assigning them the status of an object of discourse in the media. They analyse the impact of bringing in non-elite discourse formatted as quotations into the elite discourse of PMQs, and show how elite discourse adapts to the brought in ordinary-life experience with different linguistic formatting of the communicative act of quotation. Shukrun-Nagar points to the dialogic nature of self-positioning as ordinary and to context-dependent conflicting conceptualisations of ordinariness as value and anti-value. Focussing on the genre of Facebook post, she examines readers’ comments on a Politician’s Facebook post in which the Israeli politician Yair Lapid positions himself as ordinary. She adopts a Bakthtinian perspective in distinguishing between single-voiced readings, which view the ordinary voice as authentic and legitimate; double-voiced readings, which view the ordinary voice as authentic and legitimate, but partial; and polyphonic readings, which view the ordinary voice as fictitious and illegitimate. The methodological framework allows her to illustrate the fluidity and hybridity of the genre. The second part contains three chapters addressing the construction of ordinariness in the context of expert discourse. Dori-Hacohen analyses the leading U.S.A. economic self-help Dave Ramsey show, arguing that the host self presents as ordinary in order to solve the paradox inherent in the situation – an expert-millionaire advises ordinary people and fans regarding their economic struggles. The construction of ordinariness and its discursive realisations is examined in interactions with ordinary and non-ordinary callers. The paper argues for the connection between the construction of ordinariness and neo-conservative ideology, considering in particular the fluidity of small stories embedded in the genre of phone-in. Armon examines interviews with scientific experts conducted in the Israeli current affairs programme London and Kirschenbaum, and explores the discursive strategies applied to align with the assumed interests and knowledge of the audiences addressed. He argues that the construction of ordinariness emerges as a key strategy for allocating the translation of scientific knowledge between presenters and guests, showing how embedded genres adapt to the constraints of media talk. Xie and Tong propose a conceptualisation of narrative and narrative identity with reference to ‘doing being ordinary’ by the millionaire Jack Ma on Sina Weibo, distinguishing between doing ordinary things and doing things ordinarily through the social media’s affordance of multimodal resources. They call for a descriptive framework that pays due attention to face wants, self/other politeness in analysing failed self-presentation against the backdrop of embedded genres in the context of internet-mediated communication.

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The third part has three chapters addressing the interactional organisation of ordinariness in the media. Weizman and Johansson present a cross-cultural, corpus-based investigation of online commenting, in Hebrew and Finnish. Through the analysis of attitudinal collocations in a genre that contains content produced by users they gain access to the discursive encoding of ordinariness by ordinary people. The authors argue that in both languages commenters position ordinary people in the contexts of politics and politicians, social injustice, social norms, and moral and ethics. Culture-specific contexts include military service and orthodox/secular conflicts in Hebrew, self- and other- positioning as having positive qualities coupled with the feeling of being excluded from society in Finnish. Atifi and Marcoccia examine the evolution of communicative performance of ordinary speakers in the context of new media in France. Focusing on political talk-shows and on Facebook videos, they identify the development of a hybrid genre which brings together analytical, directive, evaluative communicative patterns with more emotional, accusatory and aggressive style used by ‘new ordinary speakers’. Accordingly, they argue that emergent new ordinariness in the French context combines forms of political and expert discourse. The boundaries between ordinariness and political expertise may be blurred to such an extent that the issue of “commitment to being ordinary” is put to the fore by politicians, journalists and experts. Matsumoto focuses on the association of ordinariness with the individual’s experience of daily life, and thus examines how “doing being quotidian,” participates in the construction of ordinariness in verbal interactions in mass media and social networks in the U.S. and Japan. Through analyses of the interaction of a veteran host of a Japanese talk show with a guest, two former U.S. Presidents’ presentations of themselves at public events, and postings on a Japanese political party’s Twitter account, she considers psychological and social conditions and effects of quotidian reframing in embedded discourse genres in the media. Drawing on the public nature of the analysed events, it is argued that quotidian framing may be shared by large audiences. Their effects may make them subject to manipulation.

Acknowledgement We are deeply grateful to our reviewers for their very helpful comments on the first version of this chapter.



Introduction

References Alexander, Jeffrey C. and Bernhard Giesen. 1987. “Introduction.” In The Micro-Macro Link, Jeffrey C. Alexander et al. (eds.), 1–42. Berkley: The University of California Press. Bayat, Asef. 2013. Life as Politics. How Ordinary People Change the Middle East. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Bhaya Nair, Rukmini. 2017. “Famous Politicians, Infamous Progeny: Being Ordinary Onscreen when you are a dynastic Heir Apparent in the Indian Context.” Paper presented at the IPrA conference, Belfast. Boyd, Michael S. 2014. “(New) Participatory Framework on YouTube? Commenter Interaction in US Political Speeches.” Journal of Pragmatics 72: 46–58. ​ https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2014.03.002

Cap, Piotr and Ursula Okulska (eds.) 2013. Analyzing Genres in Political Communication. Theory and Practice. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/dapsac.50 D’Ancona, Matthew. 2017. Post Truth: The New War on Truth and How to Fight Back. London: Ebury Press. Davies, Bronwyn and Rom Harré. 1990. “Positioning: The Discursive Production of Selves.” Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour 20 (1): 43–63. ​ https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-5914.1990.tb00174.x

Fairclough, Norman. 1992. Discourse and Social Change. Cambridge: Polity Press. Fairclough, Norman. 1995. Media discourse. London: Edward Arnold. Fairclough, Norman. 1998. “Political Discourse in the Media: An Analytical Framework.” In Approaches to Media Discourse, ed. by Allan Bell and Peter Garret, 142–162. Oxford: Blackwell. Fetzer, Anita. 2000. “Negotiating Validity Claims in Political Interviews.” Text & Talk 20(4): 1–46. Fetzer, Anita. 2002. “‘Put bluntly, you have something of a credibility problem’. Sincerity and Credibility in Political Interviews.” In Politics as Talk and Text: Analytic Approaches to Political Discourse, ed. by Paul Chilton and Christina Schäffner, 173–201. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/dapsac.4.10fet Fetzer, Anita. 2006. “Minister, we will see how the public judges you”. Media References in Political Interviews. Journal of Pragmatics 38(2): 180–195. Fetzer, Anita. 2007. “‘Well if that had been true that would have been perfectly reasonable’: Appeals to Reasonableness in Political Interviews.” Journal of Pragmatics 39(8): 1342–1359. ​ https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2007.04.006

Fetzer, Anita. 2016. “Political Interviews and Responsibility: A Case Study of its Interactional Organization.” In Responsibility in Discourse and the Discourse of Responsibility, ed. by JanOla Östman and Anna Solin, 163–196. Equinox: Sheffield. Fetzer, Anita. 2018. “And you know, Jeremy, my father came from a very poor background indeed”: Collective Identities and the Private-Public Interface in Political Discourse. In The Discursive Construction of Identities in Online and Offline Contexts: Personal – Group – Collective, ed. by Birte Bös, Sonja Kleinke, Sandra Mollin and Nuria Hernandez, 227–247. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita, Elda Weizman and Lawrence Berlin (eds.). 2015. The Dynamics of Political Discourse: Forms and Functions of Follow-Ups. Amsterdam: Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.259

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Grice, Herbert Paul. 1975. “Logic and Conversation.” In Syntax and Semantics 3: Speech Acts, ed. by Peter Cole and Jerry L. Morgan, 41–58. New-York: Academic Press. Gumperz, John J. 1992. “Contextualization and Understanding.” In Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, ed. by Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin, , 229–252. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 1996. “The Linguistic and Cultural Relativity of Inference. In Rethinking lLnguistic Relativity, ed. by John J. Gumperz and Steven.C. Levinson, , 374–406. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 2003. “Response Essay.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, ed. by Susan Eerdmans et al., 105–126. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/z.117.09gum

Harré, Rom and Luk van Langenhove (eds). 1999. Positioning Theory: Moral Contexts of Intentional Action. Oxford: Blackwell. Kampf, Zohar. 2013. “Mediated Performatives.” In Handbook of Pragmatics, ed. by Jef Verschueren and Jan-Ola Östman, 1–24. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/hop.17.med1

Landert, Daniela and Andreas Jucker. 2011. “Private and Public Mass Media Communication: From Letters to the Editor to Online Commentaries.” Journal of Pragmatics 43: 1422–1434. ​ https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2010.10.016

Levinson, Stephen C. 1979. “Activity Types and Language“. Language 17: 365–399. Linell, Per. 1998. Approaching Dialogue. Talk, Interaction and Contexts in Dialogical Perspective. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/impact.3 Livingstone, Sonja and Peter Lunt. 1994. Talk on Television. Audience Participation and Public Talk. London: Routledge. Luckmann, Thomas. 1995. “Interaction Planning and Intersubjective Adjustment of Perspectives by Communicative Genres.” In Social Intelligence and Interaction, ed. by Ester Goody, 175–188. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ​ https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511621710.011

Matsumoto, Yoshiko. 2015. “The Power of the Ordinary.” Journal of Pragmatics 86: 100–105. ​ https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2015.06.003

Sacks, Harvey. 1984. “On Doing ‘Being Ordinary.” In Structures of Social Action, ed. by Max Atkinson and John Heritage, 413–429. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Searle, John. 2010. Making the Social World. The Structure of Human Civilization. Oxford: Oxford University.  ​https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:osobl/9780195396171.001.0001 Simon-Vandenbergen, Anne-Marie. 2007. “Lay and Expert Voices in Public Participation Programmes: A case of Generic Heterogeneity“. Journal of Pragmatics 39: 1420–1435. ​ https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2007.04.002



Introduction

Thibault, Paul. 2003. “Contextualization and Social Meaning-Making Practices.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, ed. by Susan L. Eerdmans et al., 41–62. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/z.117.05thi Tolson, Andrew. 1991. “Televised Chat and the Synthetic Personality“. In Broadcast Talk, ed. by Paddy Scannell, 176–200. London: Sage. Tolson, Andrew. 2006. Media Talk: Spoken Discourse on TV and Radio. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Van Dijk, Teun. 1980. Macrostructures. Hillsdale: Earlbaum. Waller, James E. 2007. Becoming Evil. How Ordinary People Commit Genocide and Mass Murder. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ward, Keith, Cliff Bowan and Andrew Kakabadse. 2007. Extraordinary Performance from Ordinary People. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Weizman, Elda. 1998. “Individual Intentions and Collective Purpose: The Case of News Interviews”. In Dialogue Analysis VI, ed. by Svetla Cmejrkovà, Jana Hoffmanovà, Olga Müllerovà and Jindra Svetlà, 269–280. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. Weizman, E. 2003. “News Interviews on Israeli Television: Normative Expectations and Discourse Norms”. In Dialogue Analysis 2000, ed. by Sorin Stati and Marina Bondi, 383–394. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Weizman, Elda. 2006. Roles and Identities in News Interviews: The Israeli context. Journal of Pragmatics 38, 154–179. Weizman, Elda. 2008. Positioning in Media Dialogue. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/ds.3

Weizman, Elda. 2013. “Political Irony: Constructing Reciprocal Positioning in the News Interview”. In: Fetzer, Anita(ed.). The Pragmatics of Political Discourse: Explorations across Cultures, 167–190. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Weizman, Elda 2014. “Ami et Ennemi, Frère et Déserteur: une Grille de Positionnements Complexes”. Argumentation et Analyse du Discours 12. https://journals.openedition.org/ aad/1712. Weizman, Elda and Anita Fetzer (eds.). 2015. Follow-Ups in Political Discourse: Explorations across Contexts and Discourse Domains. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/dapsac.60

Weizman, Elda and Anita, Fetzer. 2018. Constructing Ordinariness in Online Journals: A Corpus-Based Study in the Israeli Context. Israel Studies in Language and Society 11(1), 23–48. Winter, Joanne (1993). Gender and the Political Interview in an Australian Context. Journal of Pragmatics 20, 117–139.  ​https://doi.org/10.1016/0378-2166(93)90079-5

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Part I

Constructing ordinariness in politicians’ discourse

Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people? Candidates’ self-presentation strategies on Twitter during the 2016 Austrian presidential election campaign Helmut Gruber

University of Vienna, Austria

This paper investigates one specific aspect of impression management (self-presentation as an ordinary person) of the candidates during the 2016 Austrian presidential campaign on Twitter and asks whether the candidates’ campaigns followed the innovation or the normalization hypothesis. By applying Goffman’s concepts of “giving” vs. “giving off ” information to the affordances of political communication on Twitter, a communicated ordinariness strategy is distinguished from a staged ordinariness strategy. Different forms of these two strategies are identified in the candidates’ tweets by investigating the pictorial and verbal elements of their tweets. Results show that both strategies are employed rather infrequently in all but one of the candidates’ tweets. Only one of the candidates used a staged ordinariness strategy during one phase of the campaign. These results show that most candidates employed communication strategies which conform to the normalization hypothesis rather than to the innovation hypothesis. Furthermore, the results suggest that following a consistent communication strategy throughout an entire campaign might ultimately lead to electoral success. Keywords: political discourse, social media, microblogging, Twitter, political campaign, election campaign, politicians’ self-presentation, Austrian presidential election

1. Introduction The rise of social media platforms since the 2000s has re-fueled a debate from the early 1990ies in studies of political communication. Since Internet based https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.02gru © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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communication technologies have become widely available in Western democracies, proponents of the so-called normalization hypothesis expect that politicians and political parties would extend and adapt their traditional communication practices to the affordances of newly available forms of internet communication, whereas advocates of the innovation hypothesis assume that internet communication technologies (ICTs) will help establishing a qualitatively new communication culture between politicians and citizens, facilitating more direct contact, enabling politicians and citizens to discuss policies directly (without involving classical mediators and gatekeepers like journalists) and establish direct, personal relationships between politicians and the general public (for recent overviews see Larsson and Kalsnes 2014; Koc-Michalska, Gibson, and Vedel 2014; Gruber 2018). A majority of studies investigating these two hypotheses seems to support the normalization hypothesis (Gruber 2018). Most of them, however, focus on the content plane of communication, leaving aside interpersonal aspects of politiciancitizen communication as recent studies investigating (right-wing) populist political parties and politicians and their use of social media show (Littler and Feldman 2017; Kreis 2017). The present study deals with the latter of the above aspects and investigates if and how politicians position themselves as ordinary people on social media through their communicative practices. If politicians’ online activities resemble those of ordinary users, this does not mean that politicians and ordinary users in fact use social network services (SNSs) in the same way. It rather indicates that politicians mimic ordinary users’ practices in order to appear as if they were ordinary people and (through these practices) try to establish a more personal and direct relationship with their audience as it would be possible through traditional ways of media communication. In order to analyse these practices, I will draw upon Goffman’s approach to the presentation of self in public, specifically on his distinction between “giving” and “giving off ” information (Goffman 1959). Adapting this distinction to the specific contextual constraints and affordances of social media and political communication, attention will be paid to the candidates’ performance of “being an ordinary person” on Twitter during the 2016 presidential election campaign in Austria. As the office of president is one of the very few Austrian political offices for which individual persons and not parties are elected, and as Twitter is one of the social media platforms enabling users to “perform” their selves in public (Papacharissi 2012) it could be expected (following the innovation hypothesis) that presidential candidates may try to appear like ordinary persons and relate directly to their prospective voters on social media sites during their campaigns. The remainder of this paper is structured in the following way: Section  2 develops the theoretical framework of the study by adapting Goffman’s account of



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

self-presentation strategies to the context of social media communication and by applying his concept of participation framework to the situational characteristics of social media and political communication. Furthermore, this section develops the detailed research question. In Section 3 the 2016 Austrian presidential campaign and the data of this study are presented; Section 4 shortly discusses the applied methodology; and Section 5 presents the results of a quantitative and a qualitative study of selected aspects of the (visual) self-presentation of the candidates on Twitter. Additionally, it discusses which features of politicians’ social media posts audience (and analysts) can rely on when classifying a posting as an instance of “staged ordinariness”. The final Section  6 discusses the results and draws some general conclusions on politicians’ (visual) self-presentation strategies and their potential successfulness in social media. 2. Doing “being an ordinary person” on social media platforms The discussion of politicians’ attempts to mimic ordinary persons on social network sites (SNS) involves two central aspects of interaction in public: self-presentation strategies and participation framework properties of mediatized communication events. Both will be discussed in the following. Furthermore, it will be argued that (intentional) self-presentation activities on SNS do not constitute specific communicative genres but rather that they are part of (the interpersonal plane of) several existing genres. Before discussing how politicians might be doing “being ordinary persons” on social network sites, we need to know more about what ordinary people do when they are “being ordinary” on SNSs. SNSs create a new arena for performing the selves of their users (Papacharissi 2012), enabling them to establish interpersonal relations through their messages with an “ambient” audience with whom they share certain characteristics but whom they often do not know personally (Zappavigna 2015). SNSs’ affordances have severe implications for self-presentation activities: on the one hand, SNSs establish a new “frontstage” (in Goffman’s sense) on which users can perform their online selves (or personae) which may deviate from (or even mask) their offline selves in various ways (Bullingham and Vasconcelos 2013). On the other hand, SNSs blur the traditional boundary between public (frontstage) and private (backstage), allowing individuals to present a “publicized” online version of their private selves for multiple “imagined audiences” (Marwick and boyd 2011) in different places and social environments. Through this publicized online privacy, individuals present

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themselves in a way they would like to appear in public rather than how they are in the real world.1 In this sense, the self-presentation of “ordinary people” on SNSs is the product of staging processes involving inter alia self-branding through micro-celebrity strategies (Marwick and boyd 2011; Page 2012). Micro-celebrity strategies comprise all communicative practices of users through which they treat their followers as a fan-base (rather than an audience) and which are intended to increase a user’s popularity and cultural (and sometimes financial) capital. This process has been called “self-branding” (the self-branding concept, however, has been criticized for several reasons, see Khamis, Ang, and Welling 2017) – an attention getting device aimed at elevating a user’s persona from the mass of others by applying interaction practices originally used by celebrities.2 Users’ online “ordinariness” is thus always staged and aimed at being seen and being searched by others (Marwick 2012). One specific self-branding activity is retweeting, the Twitter specific form of sharing content (Marwick and boyd 2011). Content sharing represents one of the central user practices on SNSs. It has been viewed as a functional building block of any social media platform (Kietzmann et al. 2011) characterizing the constitution of social relations in SNS (John 2013). Sharing (retweeting) contributes crucially to users’ performance of their selves. In Agha’s (2007) sense, it represents an enregistered activity in the construal of a user’s public persona on a SNS. Based on these considerations on ordinary users’ self-presentation on SNSs, politicians’ “doing ordinariness” practices on SNSs can be conceptualized as involving two-steps: (1) “ordinariness” as a staged performance of “ordinary users” on SNSs and (2) politicians staging staged ordinariness performances like ordinary users on SNSs. Politicians “doing ordinariness” on SNSs thus attempt to disseminate information (including sharing activities) in a way which aims at creating a public self-representation as an ordinary person (while remaining a politician). Politicians’ “doing ordinariness” activities thus may mimic ordinary users’ micro-celebrity strategies, but in fact a politician does not aim at self-branding (like ordinary users) 1.  This does not mean that individual selves in the offline world are in any respect more “authentic” or “real” than indidviduals presenting themselves on SNSs. As Goffman has shown, individuals always “perform” when they are engaged in social encounters. SNSs’ modal affordances and their specific audience design, however, provide users with different (and qualitatively new) possibilities for staging their selves for different audiences. 2.  As Marwick and boyd (2011) note, Twitter mainly attracts the “conventionally famous” (p. 142) like pop-stars, actors, sports stars, journalists, but also politicians.



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

but rather at changing their brand from appearing like an “established politician” to appearing like an “ordinary person” (who is simultaneously a politician) on the respective SNS. In other words, through their online activities, politicians do not merely strive at accruing social capital but rather at changing the quality of their social capital.3 Politicians’ staged ordinariness performances on SNSs involve two key aspects of public online communication: participation framework specifics of SNS communication and two ways of providing information in interaction (Goffman 1959). Public political communication as well as social media communication are forms of public multi-party communication resulting in characteristic modifications of the “classic” Goffmanian participation framework (Goffman 1959), both at its production side and its recipient end. Adapting Goffman’s production roles (animator, author, and principal) to the communicative affordances of the Twitter SNS, Draucker and Collister (2015) suggest to distinguish between the traditional animator role and the broadcaster, i.e. the account that makes messages available for an audience. While the broadcaster of a tweet is always the politician’s official account, its animator and author might be a social media team or the respective politician (cf. below) whereas its principal is in any case the account owning politician. Goffman’s recipient roles also have been adapted for different settings of public (mass-) communication. Whereas Heritage (1985) still used Goffman’s term “overhearers” for the audience of mass-mediated interviews, Dynel (2014) convincingly argues for using the concept of a “third party” in media interactions in which interactants are always aware that they produce their talk for an audience not entitled to participate in the interaction. Each message produced in such a situation may have different (intended) meanings for the ratified recipient(s) and the third party respectively. This aspect is particularly relevant for public political communication in which the concept of “split illocutions” (Gruber 1993; Chilton 2004; Hess-Lüttich 2007; Fetzer 2006) has been introduced to account for the different communicative intentions a speaker in a mediated communicative event may simultaneously have with respect to different fractions of their audience. The Twitter-specific asymmetrical unidirectional broadcasting communication model (Gruber 2017), however, implicates a conflation of the roles of addressees and third party if no specific addressee is mentioned in a tweet. Because 3.  In doing so, they might apply micro-celebrity strategies which were originally applied by celebrities from other social fields (in Bourdieu’s sense) and then adopted by ordinary people. Thus, politicians’ doing being ordinary might result in applying interaction strategies in the field of politics which originally stem from the field of popular stardom.

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of this “context collapse” (Vitak 2012), the split illocutions of political messages on Twitter may be more difficult to identify than in traditional political communication situations. Turning now to the ways politicians may communicate their ordinariness on SNSs, I apply Goffman’s (1959) differentiation between “giving” and “giving off ” information. When politicians give information on their ordinariness, this information is in the focus (i.e. on the frontstage, the story-line track, Goffman 1974) of the message, i.e. the message is about the ordinariness of the respective politician and the strategy through which the ordinariness is transmitted can be coined “communicated ordinariness”. Communicating ordinariness means that the provider of the information can be held accountable for it (Goffman 1974; Kendon 1996) as its content is intentionally provided meaning in a Gricean sense (see Levinson 2006; in relevance theoretical terminology, giving information is an instance of “inferential-ostensive” communication, Wilson and Sperber 2006). The message’s intention is attributed to the principal (cf. above) of the message irrespective of its author(s), animator(s), and broadcaster. When information on a politician’s ordinariness is given off, the politicians’ ordinariness is performed by mimicking “ordinary persons’” ways of behaving “ordinary” on a SNS (and the information about their ordinariness is provided on the “directional track” of the interaction, i.e. it is part of the routinized ways in which interactants signal each other their continuing participation in the interaction, Goffman 1974). Performed this way, a politician’s “ordinariness” is not in the focus of the interaction but rather the interaction is shaped by the politician’s staged ordinariness and interpreted by an audience following the “cognitive principle of relevance” without recognizing the representation of a politician’s ordinariness as an act of inferential-ostensive communication (Wilson and Sperber 2006: 610). This latter information providing strategy, however, deserves a more detailed discussion as the information on a politicians’ ordinariness is not given off in Goffman’s original sense, but rather it is (intentionally) provided “as if given off ”. The difference between genuinely “given off ” information and information provided “as if given off ” lies in the intentionality of the producer responsible for the message (i.e. the principal). Genuinely “given off ” information is provided unintentionally by the respective source (yet perceived and interpreted by an audience, though not as an act of intentional communication but rather as behavioral information which is not in the focus of the unfolding interaction). Information provided “as if given off ” is provided intentionally by an interactant but guised as unintentional, thus resembling Strawson’s (1964) discussion of intended effects of speech acts which are not part of their illocution. This strategy of providing information on a politician’s ordinariness as if given off can be coined “staged



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

ordinariness4”. As all instances of deceitful communication, staged ordinariness communication strategies only succeed as long as an audience does not recognize a participant’s intention but rather interprets them as instances of a speaker’s behavior rather than as their (intentional) actions (cf. Levinson 2006). Split illocutions (see above) may be realized by applying either the “communicated” or the “staged ordinariness” strategy. The identification of instances of staged ordinariness, however, poses a methodological problem, as they are only identifiable if they leave traces in a message. If a politician’s tweet contains obvious cues like traces of editing in a picture, and/or if lapses of communication occur, the applied information strategy can be coined “strongly staged ordinariness”. Specific aspects of the participation framework of a politician’s SNS posts (i.e. whether it is made explicit who produces and distributes messages) realize a staging strategy which can be located between “strong” and “weak” signaling of staging. If a message does not display any cue of staged ordinariness but nonetheless appears to be an instance of it, I will speak of “weakly staged ordinariness” (for more details see Section 5.3). The application of these self-presentation strategies is not connected to single genres of communication (when genres are defined as context sensitive purposeful social practices, cf. Gruber 2018). The two strategies rather cut across different, yet systematically varied, genre groups contributing to their interpersonal aspects (Gruber forthcoming). The communicated ordinariness strategy is applied in politicians’ information providing genres (Gruber, forthcoming) whereas the staged ordinary strategy is applied in genres in which non-political content is posted (Gruber, forthcoming). Based on the above considerations, the central research question of this paper asks if and how Austrian presidential candidates present themselves as “ordinary persons” on Twitter during the election campaign. Specifically, it will be investigated which information providing strategies (communicated ordinariness vs. staged ordinariness) they employ. An ancillary question asks which cues for staged ordinariness strategies occur in the data. 3. Data and campaign details Austrian federal presidents are elected by popular vote each 6 years. Each Austrian older than 35 years may run for the office, provided they hand in 6.000 affidavits of 4.  NB that both information providing strategies (“communicated ordinariness” and “staged ordinariness”) involve a first step of ordinary users’ staged ordinariness performance which is not explicitly mentioned to avoid clumsy terminology (“staged communicated ordinariness” and “staged staged ordinariness” resp.).

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support 37 days before the ballot. This means that prospective candidates start their campaigns within due time before this deadline to be able to collect the required number of affidavits. In order to be elected, a candidate has to receive the absolute majority of votes. If more than two candidates run for office, it is rather unlikely that a candidate wins in the first ballot. If this is the case, those two candidates who received the relatively highest shares of votes compete in a second ballot. In the 2016 presidency election, 6 candidates ran for office in the first ballot on April, 24 2016: – – – – – –

Irmgard Griss (independent candidate; campaign start: December, 18, 2015), Norbert Hofer (FPÖ5 candidate; campaign start: January, 27, 2016), Rudolf Hundstorfer (SPÖ6 candidate; campaign start: January, 15, 2016), Andreas Khol (ÖVP7 candidate; campaign start: January, 10, 2016), Richard Lugner (independent candidate; campaign start: February, 10, 2016), Alexander van der Bellen (independent candidate, supported by the Green party;8 campaign start: January, 8, 2016).

The overview shows that three party candidates (Hofer, Hundstorfer, Khol), one formally independent candidate who was supported by a party (van der Bellen) and two independent candidates (Griss, Lugner) ran for presidency. Griss, a former judge at the Supreme Court, had gained public reputation as head of a commission investigating the biggest Austrian bank scandal of the second republic in which several politicians and parties were involved; her public recognition, however, was quite low. Lugner is a well-known business man and a notorious member of the Austrian high society who had run for presidency already in 1998. All six candidates had Twitter accounts from which all tweets they posted since their campaign start were collected by weekly searches with the NodeXL Excel template combined with manual downloads from the candidate’s Twitter homepages. The actual authors of the tweets posted at the official accounts were not identifiable with all candidates (see 5.3.). Nonetheless, only the account users’ names will be mentioned as “authors” in the following presentation and discussion of results. In the first ballot, Hofer (35.1%) and van der Bellen (21.3%) received the highest share of votes and competed in a second ballot on May, 22. In this second ballot, van der Bellen gained a narrow majority of 50.35% of votes. Because of formal irregularities (but not because of fraud) during the counting of postal votes 5.  Austrian Freedom Party, extreme right-wing populist. 6.  Austrian Social Democratic Party, centre-left. 7.  Austrian People’s party, centre-right. 8.  Environmentalist Party, liberal-left.



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

the FPÖ party lawyer had documented, the FPÖ appealed against the result at the Austrian supreme court which revoked the result of the second ballot on July, 1, 2016. Because of organizational difficulties, the third ballot was postponed from beginning of October to December, 15. In this third ballot, van der Bellen gained a clear majority of 53.8% of votes. Table 1 provides an overview of the tweeting activities of all candidates during the entire election campaign. Table 1.  Twitter activities of candidates during the 2016 Austrian presidency election campaign Campaign start – April 24

April 25 – May 22

July 1 – December 15

Griss

  708

n/a

n/a

Hofer

   69

12

294

Hundstorfer

  379

n/a

n/a

Khol

    0

n/a

n/a

Lugner

   19

n/a

n/a

Van der Bellen

  278

187

247

Total

1.453

199

541

Total

375

712

As Table 1 shows, Khol – although he had an official Twitter account – did not post any tweet and Lugner posted only a few tweets before the deadline on February 23rd. Thus, only four candidates (Griss, Hofer, Hundstorfer, van der Bellen) posted tweets until the first ballot. Griss posted about two times as many tweets as the second frequent user Hundstorfer. Van der Bellen posted a rather consistent number of tweets during the three ballots whereas Hofer’s tweeting activity was very unbalanced. 4. Methodology As mentioned above, politicians’ self-presentation strategies contribute to the relation they establish with their audience and pertain to the interpersonal plane of interaction. Interpersonal aspects of the tweets were scrutinized by three sets of categories, “interpersonal elements”, “forms of self-reference”, and “impression management” in the study reported here (Gruber forthcoming). Because of space limitations, only the analysis of the realizations of the latter category will be presented and discussed. “Impression management” is a category which was applied to code the content of the pictures included in politicians’ tweets. Only pictures on which a candidate is not shown in the company of persons who have a professional

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relation to or a function in the campaign (e.g. journalists, campaign team members, other candidates etc.) were coded. In these pictures, candidates could either be presented in the company of “important people” (well-known Austrian and international politicians, scientists, artists etc.; “communicated importance”, not further discussed in this article), or surrounded by “ordinary people” (“communicated ordinariness”), or they could be presented as if they were ordinary people (“staged ordinariness”). This latter category comprises pictures which convey the impression of candid shots “ordinary” users post on Twitter, whereas the first two categories comprise pictures which were noticeably and professionally shot by campaign photographers. The analysis of the corpus was conducted at the quantitative and the qualitative level. In the quantitative analysis, the frequencies of each candidates’ use of pictures in the three ballots and the frequency distributions of the above categories was investigated. In the qualitative analysis, selected visual and verbal aspects of the tweets were scrutinized. The analysis of the pictures is based on Kress and van Leeuwen’s visual semiotic (Kress and van Leeuwen 1996). This approach is mainly applied when systematic tendencies regarding the combination of verbal and pictorial elements are identified and discussed. 5. Results The following three sections present the results of the analysis of the candidate’s use of pictures positioning them as ordinary people either through a communicated ordinariness or through a staged ordinariness strategy. Section 5.1. presents the quantitative distribution of pictures realizing these strategies, Section  5.2. presents the results of qualitative analyses of selected examples from each ballot and candidate. In Section 5.3. indicators for staged ordinariness in the tweets are presented and discussed. 5.1 Frequency of picture use in candidates’ tweets The quantitative overview firstly presents the frequencies of all kinds of pictures the candidates included in their tweets, represented as percentage of the respective candidate’s overall number of tweets. In a second step, only those tweets are investigated which contain pictures showing a candidate (a) in the company of important persons, (b) in the company of ordinary persons, and (c) as ordinary persons. The distinction between “important” (extra-ordinary) and “ordinary” persons is, of course, a matter of interpretation. During the analysis, all persons with whom the candidates were shown in tweets and who are well-known as members of the



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

(national or international) political, academic or cultural elite as well as Austrian celebrities were classified as “important” persons to whom an “ordinary” person usually would not have personal contact in the kind of event (setting) in which the candidates were shown to have met these persons. All those persons who did not fulfil the above criteria (and who were not campaign related persons, cf. Section 4) and with whom the candidates were depicted in everyday (campaign) settings were classified as “ordinary” persons. These pictures give either the information that a candidate is (a) an important person (as they meet/ know important persons) or (b) an ordinary person as they engage in activities with other ordinary persons. The classification of pictures as giving off the information that a candidate is an ordinary person rests on depicted activities which are emblems (Agha 2007) for ordinary persons in their offline life (leisure, family, and/or sports activities) or for their social network activities (sharing of content with their followers). These kinds of depicted activities are interpreted as intending to index (in Agha’s 2007 sense) a politician as an ordinary person by (seemingly) giving off the information that they behave like ordinary people. Table 2 provides an overview of the results of the overall picture count for all candidates during the first ballot. Here, we see pronounced differences between the single candidates’ frequencies. Whereas more than 70% of van der Bellen’s tweets contain pictures, only about 60% of Hundstorfer’s and only slightly more than half of Hofer’s tweets and one third of Griss’s tweets included pictures at all. Table 2.  Pictures in candidates’ tweets/ 1st ballot Candidate

N of pics

% of all tweets

Griess

248

37.26

Hundstorfer

225

61.74

Hofer

  36

52.17

Van der Bellen

200

71.94

Total

709

51.24

Turning to the frequency counts for those pictures which were analysed in the second step of the quantitative analysis (pictures realizing the communicated and staged ordinariness respectively, Table 3), we see that these picture categories cover only a very small fraction of all candidates’ tweets containing pictures (the percentages in the respective second columns are computed on the basis of each candidates’ overall number of tweets containing a picture). Only Hofer’s tweets deviate from this general trend as they include 30% of staged-ordinariness pictures. Although they represent instances of visual impression management, tweets showing a candidate in the company of important person(s) are not in the focus

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of this article as these pictures obviously do not present a candidate as an ordinary but rather as an extra-ordinary person. Table 3.  1st ballot, pictorial impression management strategies/candidate Visual impresssion management

Griess

Hundstorfer Hofer

Van der Bellen Total

n

n

n

%

%

n

%

%

n

%

Communicated extra-ordinariness 10 4.03   6 2.67 (candidate + important person)

  0   0.00 2

1.00

18 2.49

Communicated ordinariness (candidate + ordinary people)

  5 2.02   6 2.67

  0   0.00 5

2.50

16 2.21

Staged ordinariness (candidate as ordinary person)

  7 2.82 14 6.22

11 30.56 5

2.50

37 5.11

During the second ballot, the rates of picture use of the two remaining candidates remained similar to the first ballot (Table 4). In more than three quarters of van der Bellen’s tweets, pictures were included whereas Hofer used pictures in only one half of his (very few) tweets. Table 4.  Pictures in candidates’ tweets/2nd ballot Candidate

n

%

Hofer

   5

50.00

Van der Bellen

141

76.22

Total

146

74.87

During this time, almost one third of the pictures in van der Bellen’s tweets show him in the company of important persons and only very few (about 6%) present him in the company of ordinary people or show him as an ordinary person (Table  5). Hofer’s few tweets during this ballot do not realize any discernible impression management strategy. Table 5.  2nd ballot, pictorial impression management strategies/candidate Hofer

Van der Bellen

Visual impresssion management

n

%

n

%

Total %

Communicated extra-ordinariness (candidate + important person)

0

0.00

46

32.62

46

31.51

Communicated ordinariness (candidate + ordinary people)

0

0.00

 9

  6.38

 9

  6.16

Staged ordinariness (candidate as ordinary person)

0

0.00

 2

  1.42

 2

  1.37



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

During the third ballot, the frequency of picture use in van der Bellen’s tweets raised again (to more than 80%) whereas Hofer’s use of pictures decreased to about 25% (Table 6). This shows that the frequencies of picture use are (roughly) in line with the general communication strategies of the two candidates: Hofer’s communicative pattern(s) changed during each ballot whereas van der Bellen’s remained quite stable (see Gruber, forthcoming). Table 6.  Pictures in candidates’ tweets/3rd ballot Candidate

n

%

Hofer

  80

27.30

Van der Bellen

205

83.00

Total

285

52.78

As during the previous ballots, the share of pictures showing the candidates in the company of ordinary persons or indexing them as an ordinary person is quite low during the third ballot (Table 7), but again differs between candidates. Table 7.  3rd ballot, pictorial impression management strategies/candidate Hofer

van der Bellen

Visual impresssion management

n

%

n

%

Total %

Communicated extra-ordinariness (candidate + important person)

 5

  6.25

 9

4.39

14

4.91

Communicated ordinariness (candidate + ordinary people)

 2

  2.50

15

7.32

17

5.96

Staged ordinariness (candidate as ordinary person)

10

12.50

 3

1.46

13

4.56

12.5% of the pictures in Hofer’s tweets index him as an ordinary person, but only 2.5% show him in the company of ordinary persons. 6.25% display him in the company of important persons. Van der Bellen is most often depicted in the company of ordinary persons (7.3%), in 4.39% he is shown on pictures with important persons. In only 1.46% of the pictures in his tweets he appears “as if ” he was an ordinary person. 5.2 Qualitative aspects of the politicians’ visual impression management strategies In this section, typical instances of those pictures in the candidates’ tweets are analysed which either position them as if they were ordinary persons (instances of the staged ordinariness strategy) or in which they are presented as ordinary people

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(instances of the communicated ordinariness strategy). During the first ballot, only Hofer (in 30% of all pictures) positions himself as if he were an ordinary user. All the other candidates used this strategy rather infrequently (see 5.1.). Hofer’s tweets realizing this strategy resemble tweets of “ordinary” Twitter users sharing content with their followers (Example  1). Example  1 shows a retweet from an internet picture database site (www.oldpicsarchive.com) Hofer sent to his followers without any further comment on March, 16 2016. The picture’s content (two movie stars from the 1960ies) is irrelevant in the current context. By retweeting this picture, Hofer performs an enregistered practice (Agha 2007) of Twitter users (sharing tweets by retweeting them, Gruber 2017) indexing him as an “ordinary person”. Thus, at least in a limited number of tweets posted during the first ballot, Hofer seems to have followed a staged ordinariness strategy presenting him as if he was an ordinary Twitter user.

(1)

In the other candidates’ tweets, a different staged ordinariness strategy is applied. Hundstorfer (in 6% of all his pictures), Griss (2.5%), and van der Bellen (2.8%) present themselves as if they were ordinary people by including snapshot-like pictures in their tweets. Example 2 shows Hundstorfer in a situation resembling an ordinary tourist. The centre of the photo is occupied by a big telescope which is often found on scenic viewing platforms in the Austrian Alps. The candidate (dressed in tourist-like winter gear) looks through this telescope from the right side into the background of the scenery. Although he seemingly does not look at the mountain in the background of the picture (but rather at a mountain not shown on the photograph) his gaze direction and the telescope establish a



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

vector towards the mountain in the background, thus positioning the candidate as a spectator of the mountain scenery. The candidate is shown in medium-shot distance (most of the upper part of his body is visible), parts of the right side of his body are cut off by the frame of the picture. This “unprofessional” composition of the picture reinforces its snapshot-like qualities. The tweet’s text (“Today at the #Kitzsteinhorn”9) enhances the impression of the candidate as an ordinary tourist on a visit to the mountains.

(2)

Griss and van der Bellen included only very few pictures presenting them as if they were ordinary persons. These pictures were mainly shot during the candidates’ train rides or during other campaign activities. The composition of these pictures reveals interesting differences of their campaign styles. A typical “train-ride” photo of Griss shows her alone on a station platform (Example 3). The long shot distance construes a rather distanced relation between her and the viewers. The absence of any other person at the platform indicates that she is literally travelling on her own without having contact to other people. The text in the tweet (“Before the discussion with students is after the discussion with students #everythingstartsinLinz10”) seems to be intended to foreground the busy travelling and discussion activities of the candidate, but is probably presented in the wrong order: “after the discussion … is before the discussion …” would probably index a candidate’s dynamic motion 9.  Famous mountain in the Austrian Alps, part of the Glockner mountain range comprising Austria’s highest mountain, the “Großglockner”. 10.  The original German hashtag text „#inlinzbeginnts“(“it starts in Linz”) is a very well-known slogan promoting the city of Linz.

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from one event to the next. The actual wording of the tweet, however, seems to indicate a short break during a busy day filled with always the same activities. While this picture conveys a snapshot-like impression, it remains an open question whether depicting a presidential candidate alone on a train station platform is an ideal presentation of a (not very well-known) candidate as an ordinary person.

(3)

Van der Bellen’s train-ride photos are very different. They do not show him at all but rather depict either a station sign on his travelling route or the monitor showing the itinerary of his travel inside the train. These photos resemble travelling photos ordinary Twitter users post from their train rides. The picture in Example  4 presents a typical instance. The depicted timetable and list of train stops realise a classificatory process (Kress and van Leeuwen 1996) of the major cities (and train stops) on the railway line between Innsbruck and Vienna. The tweet’s text redounds with the pictorial message as it also refers to the candidate’s travelling schedule (“Back to Vienna after collecting affidavits in #Innsbruck Next Station: 18.30 NeosLab”) by presenting the candidate’s activities before (“collecting affidavits” and after the train ride (“NeosLab”11). By posting this tweet, van der Bellen is on the one hand presented as a busy candidate on his campaign tour and on the other hand as an ordinary person travelling by train (and not in a tour bus as most of his competitors except Griss), posting pictures which resemble ordinary users’ traveling photos.

11.  NeosLab: a campaign event organized by a small liberal party (“Neos”).



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

(4)

Pictures realizing the communicated ordinariness strategy (i.e. pictures showing candidates in the company of ordinary people and thus implying that they are part of “the people” and not (only) members of a political elite can be divided into two groups, one in which the candidate is presented in the company of single members of the group of ordinary people, and one in which the candidate is presented as the centre of a group of ordinary people. Instances of the first group can be mainly found in the tweets of Hundstorfer and Griss, realizations of the second group were found in all candidates’ tweets. Example  5 shows an example from Hundstorfer’s tweets. The photo shows two persons, a young female in working gear and Hundstorfer in dark suit and a red tie giving her a high five. In the background, workshop equipment is visible. Hundstorfer looks smiling at the young woman who in turn looks at him and smiles. The scene is presented in medium-shot distance, the high-five occupies the top-centre of the picture. It connects the two persons not only visually but also physically thus indicating a close relation between the candidate and the unknown young woman. The viewer is in the position of a spectator who is not involved into the depicted action. The short text only says “High-fiving. #bpw201612” and thus rephrases the picture content verbally. The tweet is a retweet which was originally posted by a SPÖ party employee and then retweeted by Hundstorfer. Giving a high five, Hundstorfer engages in a practice which is enregistered as an activity between (young) people in a symmetrical social relation and thus presents him as a person who is on an equal footing with ordinary people he meets on his campaign tour. 12.  #bpw2016 was a kind of „official” hashtag of the 2016 Austrian presidential campaign used in many tweets relating to it.

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(5)

Griss’s tweets of this group are again different. Example 6 presents a typical instance, showing Griss as a guest of the Carinthian soccer team “Wolfsberger AC”. On the picture, Griss and the stadium’s public announcer stand on the running track at the margin of the soccer field in long shot distance. Griss, at the left side of the photo, is standing upright looking at the announcer who in turn looks at her in a rather relaxed position and speaking in a microphone he is holding in his right hand. In the left-hand background, two persons are sitting in the coaching zone. Although both main protagonists look at each other, no direct connection is established between them. On the contrary, two thick white lines from the running track establish a visual frame dividing Griss in her front and back not only from the announcer at the right side but also from the persons in the background. As in the above picture, the recipients are not involved in the scenery by the depicted protagonists but positioned as spectators. The long-shot perspective creates a distance between protagonists and viewers. The tweet’s text (“In the stadium with the @WolfsbergerAC #fairplay #griss16) provides the necessary local information for contextualizing the picture’s content, the first hashtag (#fairplay) is often used in Griss’s political tweets, the second one (#griss16) was used as an identifier of her campaign in social media. Similar to the above- analysed “train-ride” picture (Example 3), this picture creates the impression of a candidate who is isolated from her (social) environment although she is in the company of an ordinary person.



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

(6)

The second picture group  – the candidate in the company of many ordinary people – is mainly realized in van der Bellen’s tweets. Example 7 presents a typical instance. It shows the candidate in the middle of a crowd composed of persons of all age groups. A group of very young people, however, dominates its front. Only the heads of most of the persons are visible. The old houses of the main square of Graz establish the picture’s background. The photo is taken from an elevated long-shot distance providing an almost eagle-eye perspective of the scenery. Van der Bellen looks to the right but no clear recipient of his gaze can be identified. All persons immediately surrounding him look at him thus marking him as the centre of the picture. This composition realizes (in Kress and van Leeuwen’s 1996 terms) a compound analytical structure of equals of which the candidate is (the central) part. The slightly elevated microphone on a pole at the right side and a person with a shoulder-mounted camera aiming at the candidate indicate that the picture was shot during a campaign event. The tweet’s text provides the local information for contextualizing the photo (“Graz, main square”) and also contains the hashtag for the presidential campaign (#bpw2016). Photos of this kind create the impression that the candidate is very popular and has contact with the general public.

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(7)

In Hofer’s tweets only one realization of this kind of tweets could be identified during the entire campaign, it is presented as Example 8. The visual part of the tweet has a tri-partite structure containing one bigger picture at the left and two smaller ones at the right side. This composition renders the big left-hand picture the main visual whereas the two smaller pictures at the right side seem to be ancillary. All pictures were shot at the Austrian parliament’s open house day on October, 26, the Austrian national day (this background information is given in the tweet’s text: “Open house day in parliament @OeParl #Nationalday”). The picture is taken at the gate of the parliament were the parliamentary presidents traditionally welcome visitors (Hofer was third president of the National assembly at this time). In the main photo, Hofer, dressed in a traditional Austrian suit, looks down from the left side to an about 10-year-old boy at the right side who looks up to him. Both Hofer and the boy smile at each other. Behind the boy an adult is looking at his smartphone, some other adults are visible in the background. The adult’s head verges on the boy’s head in a vertical line, the adult’s gaze at his smartphone establishes a vector towards the boy’s head. The boy’s green jacket stands out visually from the adults’ dark apparel. The outstanding colour and the two gaze vectors (one from Hofer and one from the adult in the immediate background) mark the boy as the centre of the scenery. The picture is taken from medium-shot distance, positioning the audience in a spectator role.



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

(8)

The two smaller pictures at the right show Hofer in the interior of the parliament. In the upper left picture, he is surrounded by a group of young people who all look into the camera. The picture is taken from long shot distance and resembles a souvenir picture taken by a visitor group. The lower-left picture shows the making of an individual’s souvenir picture. A young woman at the left side is holding a camera towards Hofer and an only partially visible man at his left side. Both Hofer and this man are smiling into the camera (and towards the woman). The photo is taken from medium-shot distance and positions the viewers in a spectator role. In both of the smaller pictures, Hofer is half-sitting on a stool as – due to an accident – he cannot remain standing for a longer time. The virtual absence of pictures showing Hofer in the company of “ordinary” people is surprising insofar as Hofer presented himself explicitly as “the candidate of the people” during the entire campaign and denounced his competitor van der Bellen as “a candidate of the elites” (“the Schickeria”/ ‘the in-crowd’, see Wodak 2017). Van der Bellen’s visual impression management strategy of presenting him in the company of ordinary people may be related to these repeated allegations. Hofer, on the other hand, seems to have relied mainly on the staged ordinariness strategy analysed above when attempting to present himself as part of the “ordinary people” but did not employ a communicated ordinariness strategy.

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5.3 Indicators of staged ordinariness In this section, indicators for the staged ordinariness of candidate’s campaign tweets will be discussed. As mentioned above (Section 2), a candidate’s staged ordinariness strategy can range on a continuum between a “weak” (tweets including no specific indicators) and a “strong” (tweets including specific indicators) pole. In the case of “weakly staged ordinariness”, a single tweet does not display any sign indicating that its sender intentionally communicates that they are an ordinary person, only properties of the communication situation suggest that this is the case. In tweets of this kind, illocutions split into an overt intention (e.g. sharing content with one’s followers) and a covert intention (appearing as if one were an ordinary person). Explicit information provided about properties of the participation framework (i.e. about the distribution of author roles) places tweets near to but not at the weakly signalling pole of the cline. “Strongly staged ordinariness” is signalled via message properties indicating different illocutions performed in one message. In the following, these different indicators will be illustrated by examples. Hofer’s tweets were posted in rather irregular intervals during the campaign and it was never disclosed whether he tweeted in person, or if his account was serviced by a social media team, or if he and a team tweeted from the same account. His tweets resembling those of ordinary users thus have to be considered as representing the weakly staged ordinariness pole of the above scale as a result of the general properties of political communication on Twitter (see Section 2). Message properties which revealed the staged character of messages posted from his account corroborate this interpretation (cf. below). Details of the distribution of production roles were provided by three candidates, Griss, Hundstorfer, and van der Bellen. Official campaign teams tweeted from their accounts, which was clearly communicated at the beginning of their campaigns. If tweets resembling ordinary users’ messages were posted from these accounts, they can be considered as close to but not at the weakly staged ordinariness pole of the above-mentioned scale because the information that a social media team is servicing a candidate’s account was usually given only once, quite at the beginning of the campaign and not repeated. Members of the audience who missed out on this message thus might have thought that the respective candidate is tweeting in person and perceived these tweets as if they were “ordinary user’s tweets”. Strongly staged ordinariness is signalled either through visual and/or verbal characteristics of a tweet or manifests through communication lapses. An instance of the former is shown in Example 9. It shows a tweet from Irmgard Griss at one of her train-rides. At first glance, the photo conveys the impression of a candid shot showing the candidate at her mobile phone in a seemingly empty passenger coach.



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

Griss is located at the bottom left side of the picture and depicted from a mediumshot distance. She is looking to the right and does not establish gaze contact to the viewers. Content and composition of the pictures are thus in line with the “lonely candidate” motive already identified above (Example 3, Example 6). A closer look at the picture, however, shows that it was visibly edited by inserting a hashtag (#roadtohofburg) and the candidate’s website address (www.griss.at) at the bottom of the photo in very small print. The tweet’s text above the picture reinforces the interpretation of a strong staging of ordinariness as it refers to the candidate via full name (“Step by step.13 At 22: 00, Irmgard Griss visits Lou Lorenz-Dittlbacher14 in the ZIB 2. #bpw16”) thus indicating that the tweet was posted by a member of her social media team.

(9)

A second (but probably not intentionally chosen) way of signalling strongly staged ordinariness in candidates’ social media posts is represented by communication lapses, i.e. by the posting of pictures or messages which could index a politician as an ordinary person but simultaneously display obvious indicators of their staging. The following case of a communication lapse originated initially on Facebook 13.  In German, this idiom conveys a pun as the phrase “step by step” can literally also mean “train by train”. 14.  News show host of the daily news show “Zeit im Bild 2” (ZIB 2) at 10 pm on the public Austrian TV station ORF 2.

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where Norbert Hofer posted a photo of his family in mid-February 2017, i.e. already after the election campaign.15 It is presented because it was heavily discussed (and ridiculed) on Twitter and also caused some media coverage discussing politicians’ self-presentation strategies on social media (see below). The photo in Example  10 was posted on Hofer’s Facebook page on Sunday, March, 6, 2017, after he had posted it without comment on his Facebook page in mid-February. It shows Hofer, his wife, and his daughter looking at the viewers from medium-shot distance and thus establishing direct gaze contact with the viewers. At the bottom of the picture (i.e. in the foreground) a small part of a big pizza is visible which Hofer seems to begin cutting into pieces. In the background, the garden outside Hofer’s house in the south-eastern province of Burgenland is visible through a window. In the middle of a green lawn (between Hofer’s and his daughter’s heads), a flowering bush is visible. This garden scenery caused excitement, mockery, and joking in the social media as a green garden with a flowering bush is impossible in the Austrian climate in February or early March (when winter ends and spring starts very slowly). This scenery (as well as the fact that the entire Hofer family is smiling towards the viewers which implies that an additional person – the photographer – was present) provides a strong indication that the photo is the result of a professional photo-shooting session held far before the date of posting it. Hofer’s text beyond the photo reacts to the discussion in the (social) media: “Today at noon, Anni wanted a Pizza. I wish you all a beautiful and relaxing Sunday! PS: this photo is – as some media already found out – not from this Sunday .” In his postscript, Hofer alludes to his first and misleading posting of the photo but attributes the detection of the lapse to “the media”. In fact, many ordinary users had pointed to the obvious mismatch between the date of posting of the photo and the depicted scenery from the beginning on and had used the hashtag “#pizzagate” for discussing it.

15.  During the presidential campaign an instance of a (alleged) communication lapse had already occurred, when Hofer had posted a photo showing him with his cat sitting on a lounge suite in his private living room. At this photo, he (or his social media team) had allegedly photoshopped the cat into the picture. These allegations, however, were never proven, therefore the current example (from a date after the campaign) is analyzed here.



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

(10)

In a tweet using this hashtag from the same day (Example 11), Hofer acknowledges for the first time that a social media team is (co-)servicing his account: “Given the access rates of my fb-page, my social media team should post a summer-pizza photo each winter”. Thus, by initially giving off information as if he were an ordinary user (by posting the pizza family photo), Hofer in fact gave off the information that he had staged his (and his family’s) ordinariness through the obvious mismatch between the content of the photo and the actual season. The split illocution of this message thus backfired on its principal rather than succeeded in the audience.

(11)

This communicative lapse and the reactions it caused in the social as well as in the traditional media represent a telling example for the pitfalls social media provide for politicians intending to present themselves as if they were ordinary people. Whereas most users commented more or less ironically or sarcastically on this lapse, the newspapers (and the communication experts they cited) discussed the event mainly in terms of politicians’ authenticity in the social media, as in the following (translated) excerpt from an article in the quality newspaper “Der Standard” (published on March, 6, 2017):

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Social media expert Judith Denkmayr stresses in a previous interview with “Der Standard” concerning FPÖ-leader’s Heinz-Christian Strache’s Facebook page that authenticity would be essential when sharing personal messages. Strache would be very successful in creating a brand by creating at least the impression to post messages personally and spontaneously […] The event [Hofer’s #pizzagate, HG] shows the pitfalls for political PR on social media. Postings are checked for inconsistencies and mistakes by critics and fans as well. If they find anything, this (http://derstandard.at/2000053651984/ can result in a loss of credibility.  Aufregung-um-Norbert-Hofer-und-ein-altes-Pizzafoto-auf-Facebook;  accessed on November, 29 2017)

Although the cited expert concedes that FPÖ-leader H.C. Strache might only create the impression that he is posting messages personally, his social media use is characterized as authentic. This use of the term “authenticity” either presupposes that politicians’ authenticity in the social media is always a staged as-ifauthenticity or it does not acknowledge the difference between ordinary users’ practices when they are doing being ordinary and politicians when they are doing as if being ordinary users. This section presented the various ways in which staged ordinariness in the candidates’ postings could be identified. Proposing a cline between weakly and strongly staged ordinariness strategies, characteristics of the specific participation framework of politicians’ social media posts as well as typical message properties were identified which enable analysts (and the audience) to detect staging practices. 6. Discussion and conclusions In this last section, I will return to the research question (and its three aspects) and try to discuss if and how the results presented above (and in a complementary analysis presented in Gruber forthcoming) relate to it. In general, the research question (asking how and to which extent the candidates tended to create the impression of being “ordinary people” in their Twitter messages) deals with a specific aspect of the innovation hypothesis. In this paper, this question was investigated by analysing the pictures in the candidates’ tweets, a complementary analysis (Gruber forthcoming) scrutinizes qualitatively and quantitatively the content of their messages. Results of both analyses show that during the first ballot, only Hofer’s tweets conformed to the innovation hypothesis to some extent (about 23% of his messages contain non-political content or refer to his private life, cf. Gruber forthcoming; 30% of his messages containing pictures present him as if he were an ordinary person, cf. above). In most of Hofer’s messages containing non- political content,



Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people?

he shared film-stills or funny pictures from internet databases with his followers. Through this sharing activity, he presents himself as if he were an ordinary person, i.e. his activity creates the impression as if he “gave off ” the information that he behaves like an ordinary person on Twitter. The other candidates present themselves only very rarely as ordinary persons and they apply very different self-presentation strategies. These strategies become mainly manifest in the pictorial elements of their tweets (and in less than approx. 10% of their tweets’ verbal content, Gruber forthcoming). These pictures are snapshot-like posts, showing the candidate in everyday situations (cf. Section 5.2.). Pictures of this kind were very rare in all candidates’ tweets, only in the Hundstorfer sub-corpus they could be found at a noteworthy frequency (about 6%). Although they occur at very low frequencies, differences between candidates become manifest. In a typical snapshot-like picture, Hundstorfer is frequently depicted engaging in ordinary persons’ activities like sightseeing or car-driving16 whereas Griss and van der Bellen post pictures from the train-rides during their campaigns. These results provide evidence that (at least during the first ballot), Hofer is the only candidate whose tweeting activities at least partly support the innovation hypothesis whereas all other candidates’ activities support the normalization hypothesis. In a rather small fraction of pictures, candidates are shown in the company of ordinary people (about 2% of the pictures). Pictures showing candidates in the company of ordinary people are obviously intended “to give” the information that a candidate has contact to ordinary people and thus is accepted as an ordinary person. These pictures, however, are professionally shot and visibly part of a candidate’s campaign. Two groups of tweets containing these pictures could be identified. In the first group, candidates are shown as the centres of large groups (crowds) of supporters interacting with them (i.e. talking, taking selfies with supporters, or signing autographs), the respective tweet’s text indicates the location and/or event where the photo was shot. These tweets give the information to the audience that the respective candidate is popular and part of “the people”. Tweets of this kind were mainly found in Hundstorfer’s and van der Bellen’s sub-corpora. In the Griss sub-corpus, this kind of pictures occurred rarely and only one picture of this kind was found in the Hofer sub-corpus. In the second group of tweets, pictures show the respective candidate in the company of single representative(s) of the “ordinary people” engaging in activities which are enregistered emblems of the group which the depicted ordinary people represent (e.g. giving a high-five, playing a round of table-top soccer, or hiking with 16.  Not analysed in this article for reasons of space.

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supporters). In these cases, the respective tweet’s text verbalizes the activity the candidate engages in and thus repeats the visual message verbally. These pictures show that a candidate interacts with members of certain groups of the general public on an equal footing and is accepted by them. Tweets of this group were mainly found in Hundstorfer’s sub-corpus and occurred only very rarely in van der Bellen’s sub-corpus. They were virtually absent in all other candidates’ tweets. During the second and third ballot (when only two remaining candidates – Hofer and van der Bellen – competed), van der Bellen’s visual self-presentation campaign strategy continues showing him mainly in the company of (a crowd of) ordinary people. Hofer’s visual strategy changes during the second and the third ballot. During the second ballot, he posts only very few tweets and neither shares pictures with his followers nor presents himself as an ordinary person. During the third ballot, Hofer posts only very few pictures presenting him as if he were an ordinary person (mainly family photos) but does not share pictures with his followers (his verbal strategies of presenting him as an ordinary person also change during the third ballot, cf. Gruber forthcoming). The investigation of the (possible) indicators of the staged ordinariness strategy reveal its risks when employed in its weak version. Hofer never provides any cues that the tweets indexing him as an ordinary person are weakly staged and not the result of authentic “ordinary person’s” activities. The analysis of the public discussion of one of his communication lapses by users and media reveals the risks of this strategy: if it fails, the respective politician becomes the target of scorn, mockery, and sarcasm in the social media and thus reaches the opposite effect of their initial intention. In all other candidates’ tweets, indicators can be identified which provide the audience (and analyst) with cues that the respective candidate is presented “as if ” they were ordinary people thus realizing a “strongly staged” ordinariness strategy. Overall, the results of this study show that all candidates did not predominantly follow the innovation strategy during the 2016 presidential campaign in Austria. Only Hofer (during the first ballot) follows this strategy to some extent by presenting himself as if he were an ordinary person (i.e. realizing a staged ordinariness strategy). Considering the results of the first ballot, his strategy seems to succeed as he received relatively most votes. Considering the entire campaign, however, it seems that following a coherent communication strategy like van der Bellen’s campaign team (which conforms mainly to the normalization hypothesis, cf. Gruber forthcoming) during all three ballots is the successful way of winning an election in the long run.

Are Austrian presidential candidates ordinary people? 49



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“You bring the steaks, I’ll bring the salad” Presenting ordinariness in PM Netanyahu’s public talks Zohar Livnat

Bar-Ilan University, Israel

In line with theories of charismatic leadership (Weber 1947, Shamir et al. 1994), and drawing on Goffman’s approach (1959) regarding impression management as well as on Sacks’ concept (1984) of (extra)ordinariness as a work done through discourse, this study defines and analyzes a discursive practice employed by Israeli PM Netanyahu in his public talks, namely the construction of an image that on the one hand, all citizens can identify and empathize with, and on the other, presents him as so unique as to be irreplaceable. The examples demonstrate the stylistic, discursive and thematic aspects of Netanyahu’s public discourse on the background of culture-specific norms and expectations. The analysis identifies two types of ordinariness that Netanyahu communicates to the audience: The positive ordinariness that Weizman and Fetzer (2018) associate with the fulfillment of civic duties, and being “all-Israeli” in the sense of being an average, down-to-earth member of Israeli society. Keywords: self-presentation, impression management, political speech, Netanyahu, charismatic leadership, frame alignment, staged ordinariness, communicated ordinariness

1. Constructing ordinariness Ordinariness, a concept that has been suggested by Sacks (1984), is not an a priori concept, ready to be used in discourse. According to Sacks’ conceptualization, ordinariness is constructed in and through discourse, and its construction is used strategically to achieve particular communicative goals (Weizman and Fetzer 2018). The research on this concept takes various perspectives. In the last few decades, the increasing opportunities for ‘ordinary people’ to participate in the public discourse makes ordinariness central for discourse analysts and communication studies https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.03liv © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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scholars (e.g. Katriel 2004; Dori-Hacohen 2009; Kleinke 2010; Upadhyay 2010; Dori-Hacohen and Shavit 2013; Johansson 2015; Weizman and Dori-Hacohen 2017; Fetzer and Weizman 2018), including the question of the functions of the media in what Turner (2010) calls ‘the demotic turn’, i.e. the increasing of ordinary people’s participation in the media, for example through reality TV shows. A different perspective on ordinariness focuses on the construction of ordinariness with reference to third parties and involves the way politicians, journalists and decision makers talk about the ‘ordinary people,’ especially in the context of the state’s responsibility to care for their welfare. Analyzing the discourse of non-ordinary people when they discuss issues relevant to ordinary people enables researchers to understand how they define ordinariness in a particular social context and how ordinariness is constructed against the background of non-ordinary groups of people, such as the political and journalistic elite, high-status professionals, public figures and celebrities. (Weizman and Fetzer 2018). An additional angle from which the concept of ordinariness can be viewed is the research aimed at identifying, describing and explaining discursive and nondiscursive acts performed by non-ordinary persons in order to present themselves as ‘ordinary citizens’ in a particular sense. Obviously, in order to be effective, this kind of self-presenting ‘ordinariness’ should be constructed as closely as possible to what the audience (voters, followers, employees, etc.) considers ‘ordinary’. It is this last perspective that will be taken in the present study. Theoretically, I will draw on Goffman’s approach (1959) regarding the presentation of self and the need for managing and controlling the impression one makes on others, namely to “mobilize his activity so that it will convey an impression to others which it is in his interests to convey” (1959: 16). Impression management will be discussed in the present study as a work done by politicians in the public discourse in order to achieve their own goals. Goffman distinguishes between two ways in which information about an individual is actually conveyed to the audience. The individual “gives” information by intentionally using verbal and non-verbal signs that are expected to be interpreted according to their accepted meaning, and at the same time the individual “gives off ” information through “a wide range of action that others can treat as symptomatic of the actor, the expectation being that the action was performed for reasons other than the information conveyed in this way.” (Goffman 1959: 14). While the way a person “gives” information seems to be relatively easy for him or her to control and manipulate, other parts of a person’s behavior, which are assumed to provide information in a way of “giving off,” might be interpreted by the others as unintentional and less controlled. (1959: 18). Gruber (2019) suggests that politicians’ ordinariness may be performed by employing these two ways of providing information. On the one hand, when



“You bring the steaks, I’ll bring the salad”

information on a politician’s ordinariness is “given,” this information is at the focus of the interaction, namely, the message is about the ordinariness of the speaker. Gruber termed this strategy for transmitting ordinariness “communicated ordinariness.” On the other hand, when information on a politician’s ordinariness is “given off,” the politicians’ ordinariness is performed by mimicking an “ordinary person’s” ways of behaving “ordinary,” namely, by pretending ordinariness. Performed this way, a politician’s “ordinariness” is not at the focus of the interaction and it is implied by the speaker’s behavior. Since this behavior might be unintentional and less controlled, it can be considered to be more authentic and a more reliable source for others to judge the speaker. However, in the same way that people in everyday life might control the naturally less controlled aspects of their public impression (Goffman 1959: 19), this is also true for politicians’ performance, and even more so due to their relatively more public experience and awareness of their public image. Thus, Gruber suggests that when information on a politician’s ordinariness is given off, it is not given off in Goffman’s original sense, namely unintentionally, but rather it is intentionally provided “as if given off.” In other words, the speaker intentionally behaves as if he or she is unintentionally “giving off ” information. This strategy of providing information on a politician’s ordinariness as if given off is termed by Gruber (2019) “staged ordinariness,” and it is this kind of “doing ordinariness” that is the focus of the present study. The construction of ordinariness may vary across cultural contexts, since what is considered ordinary by members of any particular community is culturally dependent. Weizman and Fetzer’s (2018) research provides some answers regarding this question in the Israeli context. Through an analysis of the use of two key collocations in online journalistic texts – ‘the little citizen’ (ha’ezrax hakatan) and ‘the down-the road person/citizen’ (ha’ezrax/ha’adam min hashura) – they defined ordinariness as a scalar concept that might indicate a negative image of a powerless, victimized citizen as well as a more positive, more appreciated middle-class citizen who is entitled to being accounted to by the state since he or she fulfills certain social duties, such as working hard and paying taxes. The connection between ordinariness and civil rights and duties will be crucial for my analysis in Section 6 below. This perspective of ordinariness, however, is not the only one possible, and Section 5 below will focus on other meanings of being ordinary. 2. Between the ordinary and the epic In the same way that doing ‘being ordinary’ is a task achieved through interactional practices (Sacks 1984), it might be assumed that constituting a person’s

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own life as “an epic” is also a discursive task. These two tasks appear to contradict one another, but in fact they might co-occur in a single person’s public image. In modern democracies, it is common to find politicians, especially candidates during election campaigns, that position themselves as ordinary persons through various media, such as public speeches (Reyes 2011) and social networks (Gruber, 2019; Shukrun-Nagar, 2019). This act of self-positioning as an ordinary person might be justified by theories of leadership. For example, the Motivational Theory of Charismatic Leadership developed by House (1977) and Shamir et  al. (1993) emphasize the need for leaders to publicly display alignment and similarity with followers. This theory uses the term “Frame alignment” (Snow et al. 1986), which is based on Goffman (1974)‘s concept of frame  – a set of interpretations that enables individuals to locate, perceive, and label occurrences within their life space and the world at large. By rendering events or occurrences meaningful, frames function to organize experience and guide action, whether individual or collective (Goffman 1974: 464; Shamir et al. 1994: 29). “Frame alignment” according to Snow et al. (1986) refers to the linkage of individual and leader interpretive orientations. Shamir et al. (1994) argue that one of the major ways in which charismatic leaders engage in frame alignment is through their speeches; a public speech is an opportunity for the leader to demonstrate how his or her interpretive frame aligns with that of his/her followers. “The leader has to point out similarities in background, experience and values between him and potential followers in order to demonstrate his belonging to the same collectivity, and to posit himself as a ‘representative character’ and a potential role model” (1994: 34). This, according to Shamir et al., lays the ground for potential followers’ identification with the leader. This theory suggests, then, that to some extent, a leader should construct himself or herself as an ordinary person in the sense of being similar to his/her followers. The followers should feel that the leader is “like them” in some way. Of course, being “like them” might refer to various qualities, not only the aforementioned background, experience and values. To illustrate, in November 2016, during the US elections for presidency, an American citizen recorded by one of Israeli TV channels surprisingly declaring that he was going to vote for Donald Trump despite the negative attitudes toward Trump that prevailed around him, explained this by saying:

(1) He can have a big mouth. I got a big mouth. But he’s got a good heart, and he’s just an ordinary fellow (Channel II, 5.11.2016, emphasis added).

This quote suggests that this man sees similarities between Trump and himself, as both being ordinary persons (according to the speaker’s own definition of ordinariness), who use the same crass speaking style (“big mouth”) and perhaps



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also have both “a good heart”. It seems that due to these similarities he finds Trump deserving his vote, and is willing to push his presidency on this basis Thus, it seems that staging ordinariness might be, or at least might be considered by political leaders, an effective and beneficial choice. On the other hand, a different perspective might suggest that staging non-ordinariness and uniqueness are no less important. Sacks (1984) stressed that for most people, constituting their own life as “epic” might be socially risky. However, he also noted that in each society there are people who are “entitled to have their lives be an epic” (1984: 419). I will take as my point of departure the assumption that political leaders are among those people, an assumption that can be connected theoretically with other leadership theories, such as the theory of Charismatic Authority (Weber 1947). Discussing the concept of charismatic authority, Weber defines charisma as “a certain quality of an individual personality by virtue of which he is set apart from ordinary men and treated as endowed with supernatural, superhuman, or at least specifically exceptional powers or qualities.” (Weber 1947: 358, my emphasis). The validity of charisma in this type of authority is based, according to Weber, on the recognition on the part of those subject to authority, a recognition that includes “devotion to the corresponding revelation, hero worship, or absolute trust in the leader […] Psychologically this ‘recognition’ is a matter of complete personal devotion to the possessor of the quality [=the charisma], arising out of enthusiasm, or of despair and hope.” (1947: 359). Weber usually demonstrates his ideas with historical examples of kings, religious leaders, prophets or military leaders. However, he applies these ideas to the elected politicians of our time as well. It seems that “absolute trust in the leader” on the basis of the belief in him being “set apart from ordinary men” due to his “exceptional powers or qualities” is a phenomenon that can be found, one way or another, in regard to leaders of all kind of regimes. Hence, being non-ordinary, exceptional and unique might be a positive quality of modern democratic leaders, and thus staging non-ordinariness to construct a charismatic image makes sense and might be an effective and beneficial choice as well. Taking these two perspectives on leadership together, it is possible to claim that political leaders in democratic regimes may be expected to discursively constitute themselves and their lives as both ordinary and non-ordinary at the same time. It seems reasonable to assume, based on common sense only, that even if followers or voters in this context prefer to see their leader as “one of them,” this alignment does not mean that there should not be any difference between them and their leader. I might suggest that they expect their leader to be “like them” but a little more: more intelligent, more experienced, more capable of making decisions or leading people, etc. Obviously, this generalization cannot hold for every person in every context and it might also be culturally dependent. Thus, following Sacks,

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who defined “being ordinary” as a job, I will argue that for some politicians, in certain cultures, their job might be to constitute themselves, through discourse, as ordinary and non-ordinary at the same time and to find a delicate balance between these two conflicting needs. 3. Benjamin Netanyahu as a case study For the present research, I will take Israeli PM Benjamin Netanyahu as an example of a leader who constitutes himself and his life as both ordinary and epic at the same time. Netanyahu might easily be considered the most successful Israeli politician of all time, in the sense of his talent for being re-elected again and again (in 1996, 2009, 2013, 2015 and 2019). Netanyahu’s success is often ascribed by Israeli scholars and journalists to his rhetorical skills and to his being a gifted orator (e.g. Neuman and Tabak 2003). Lewin and Livnat (2016) showed that his public talks to Israeli audiences are suffused with several characteristics typical of speeches delivered by charismatic leaders, as found by Shamir et al. (1994: 29): references to the leader’s similarity to his followers and his identification with his followers and with the collective identity. Shamir et al.’s (1994) theory also predicts that charismatic leaders will refer in their speeches to collective history and to the continuity between the past and the present. Indeed, the analysis suggested by Lewin and Livnat (2016) of Netanyahu’s domestic speeches demonstrates that he often makes this connection, and the distant and non-so-distant past often feature in his speeches: the Bible, the Diaspora, the Holocaust, the rebirth of the nation – he directly associates all of these both to the political situations and decisions of the present as well as to the question of the future of the Jewish people and the State of Israel. Netanyahu’s leadership style, especially in the last decade, in certain ways is also suggestive of charismatic authority as defined by Weber (1947). Newspaper reports offer extensive description of his demand for absolute loyalty from those working closely with him, which is often based on blind admiration to the point of willingness to defend him even when he finds himself under criminal investigation. His foot soldiers are “like front-line troops who will follow him to hell and back” (Kimhi 2001: 215, citing journalist Hanna Kim). Criminal investigations into his actions relate in part to his alleged demands to receive valuable personal gifts. According to Weber, just like the heroic warrior and his followers that “actively seek ‘booty,’ the elective ruler or charismatic party leader requires the material means of power” (1947: 362). In addition, the elective ruler “requires a brilliant display of his authority to bolster his prestige. […] support by gifts, sometimes on a grand scale involving foundations, even by bribery and grand-scale honoraria,



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or by begging, constitute the strictly voluntary type of support. On the other hand, ‘booty,’ or coercion, whether by force or by other means, is the other typical form of charismatic provision for needs.” (1947: 362). Netanyahu’s demands to increase the number of his political appearances and their intensity can also be interpreted in this spirit, for example his insistence on speaking at Israel’s opening Independence Day ceremony in 2018, contrary to the longstanding official protocol for this event, which defines the ceremony as an apolitical event. Charismatic authority, unlike other types of authority, says Weber (1947: 361–362) “is specifically irrational in the sense of being foreign to all rules. […] Charismatic authority repudiates the past, and is in this sense a specifically revolutionary force.” Netanyahu’s statements and behavior suggest, according to Kimhi (2001: 215) an undemocratic character. Netanyahu’s tendency to accuse his political opponents of “treason” also echoes Weber’s description of the typical characteristics of a charismatic leader along with his perception that associates himself with the state insofar as to imply that his personal enemies are the enemies of the state. The question of Netanyahu’s self-perception, namely whether he perceives himself as an ordinary person, is a psychological question that discourse analysis alone cannot answer. Kimhi (2001) provided a psychological profile of Netanyahu using the qualitative method of “behavior analysis,” which is based on behaviors described and reported publicly and utilizes measures of thoughts, feelings and actions that have continuity over time and between situations. The sources for Kimhi’s study were books written by Netanyahu himself, volumes on the subject of Netanyahu and articles published in Israeli newspapers, including interviews he granted to the press. Kimhi’s findings suggest that Netanyahu’s behavior reveals many characteristics of a narcissistic personality, including a tendency to megalomania, which is expressed in his linking of his personal fate to the national one (2001: 219). One of these megalomaniac character traits involves his perception of himself as the savior of the nation from tragic mistakes (2001: 220). According to Kimhi’s analysis, Netanyahu sees himself as more perceptive than others and is convinced that he discerns historical processes that others do not. He believes that it is his own heroic task to rescue his homeland and that the success of the Jewish people and the State of Israel depends on him being personally strong and steadfast. (2001: 208–209). With this in mind, the manner in which Netanyahu in his speeches associates himself with the fate of the Jewish people and the State of Israel does not appear to be a rhetorical action that is adopted artificially, but rather appears to arise from his genuine self-perception as the savior of Israel. Perhaps this self-perception is what gives his speeches the authenticity and enthusiasm that helps his audience identify with him.

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Assuming that this is an accurate description of Netanyahu’s self-perception, or at least a description that contains a kernel of truth, it is reasonable to assume that it affects his impression management and staged behavior. My first task, then, is to describe the efforts that Netanyahu invests in his public talks to make his audience perceive him as “one of them,” or “someone like them” (Section 4). My second task (Section 5) is to describe the manifestation of non-ordinariness, and thus address the duality of constructing his life as being both ordinary and epic. Section 6 will focus on the social-cultural perspective of ordinariness by discussing two thematic elements, military service and bereavement, that have the potential to be indicative of Israeli ordinariness, against the background of culture-specific norms and expectations. As an orator, Netanyahu is at his best when speaking English to an international audience (Livnat and Lewin 2016), but it is more relevant for the purpose of the present study to look at how he speaks in Hebrew to domestic audiences since it is there that he is required to find the balance between being “like any other Israeli” and being unique. Thus, almost all the examples that will be analyzed are taken from Netanyahu’s public talks to Israeli audiences in Hebrew. To that end, 20 domestic speeches delivered between 2009 and 2012 have been systematically analyzed, and some additional examples from other sources will be discussed too. All the speeches are “political” in the broad sense (Reisigl, 2010), but they vary in terms of their audiences, circumstances and levels of formality. They also present a mixture of the deliberative and the epidictic genres (Aristotle 1982; Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca 1958). Even the more deliberative ones, however, are not clearly decision-making speeches, and even if they contain aspects of steering policy, their content is predominantly declarative in nature and involves forms of addressing the audience typical of epidictic speeches. 4. Netanyahu’s staged and communicated ordinariness As argued above, ordinariness is not an a priori concept. Weizman and Fetzer (2018) draw a specific scale on which they suggest organizing various types of ordinariness, viewed from the perspective of a citizen’s relationship with the state and his/her civil rights and duties. From a different perspective, Example (1) above intuitively connects ordinariness with a person’s conversational style that is characteristic of ordinary people in a specific society. This is the perspective that will be taken in the present section, assuming that being an “ordinary Israeli” might also mean being “all Israeli,” namely the unassuming, average, down-to-earth and perhaps even unsophisticated member of Israeli society. This section discusses the two methods that Netanyahu employs to present this type of “Israeli” ordinariness:



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using linguistic elements that are interpreted as typical of ordinary Israelis and making references to a specific lifestyle that is common to ordinary Israelis. 4.1 Linguistic tools The use of first names and nicknames, as well as the use of slang, informal style and substandard language in formal circumstances can serve as a means of displaying familiarity and close relationships with others, as well as self-positioning (Davies and Harré 1990) as equal to one’s audience. It is essential, however to look at them from two different perspective: the generic and the cultural. The use of first names and nicknames is typical of Israeli culture, which is relatively informal and solidarity-oriented, and appreciates values such as directness, honesty, simplicity, solidarity, and involvement (Katriel 1986, 1999), although these tendencies have been mitigated with the years (Katriel 2004). Netanyahu’s use of first names and nicknames is prevalent in many contexts, even when generic conventions suggest otherwise. Example  (2) is taken from his speech at an annual gathering of the Manufacturers’ Association, in the presence of members of Knesset, the chairman of the Histadrut Labor Federation, Israel’s most prominent industrialists and more. In Example (2), he is addressing a judge, who served as the president of the National Labor Court:

(2) I see Judge Steve Adler here. Steve, do you want me to tell them how many hours we’ve spent together? How many days and nights we’ve spent in each other’s company?  (13/01/2011)

Colloquialisms and up-to-date slang serve the same goal in Netanyahu’s speeches, as demonstrated by the two following examples. Example (3) was uttered during a ceremony inaugurating a new fast transportation lane, held in the presence of the minister of transport, the director-general of the ministry of transport, the comptroller general of the ministry of finance and the chair of the board of directors of one of Israel’s largest banks. Example (4) was uttered during a ceremony launching a national educational program to be held in Upper Nazareth, a small city in Israel’s north. Present at the ceremony were the minister of education, the mayor of Upper Nazareth, mayors of other locales in the north and representative dignitaries of groups of minorities. The word Chakalakot (singular: Chakalaka) in Example (3) is Hebrew slang for the flashing blue lights on the roof of police cars, and promo in Example (4) of course is the informal term that refers to short films or videos that promote an upcoming film or television program.

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(3) In order to get there (to a meeting with the president of Egypt), I have to leave, get out on the road, take a ride to get back to the airport. Thanks to what we’re doing now, it goes very quickly, even without chakalakot.  (06/01/2011)



(4) I can’t agree to that. I am going to swoop down on it powerfully. We’re already doing that but soon you’ll be hearing some interesting news in this (01/03/2011) area. I’m giving you – as we call it here – a promo. 

These texts demonstrate the use of up-to-date slang as well as a free word order (aval atem bekarov tishme’u = lit. But you soon will-hear) and other features of spontaneous spoken language, such as the excessive use of the demonstrative pronoun ze (4 times in Example (4)). Since Netanyahu’s use of language, as can be heard in other circumstances, is usually standard and even high register, this substandard style may be interpreted as a strategic use of code-switching and a choice on his part to use an ‘all-Israeli’ style. In other words, it provides information about the ordinariness of the speaker that is transmitted “as if given off.” Of interest is the phrase “as we call it here,” in which the inclusive plural first person we explicitly includes the speaker in the group of Israelis that use that phrase. A unique example of using informal language shows that the picture is more complex. This example comes from a story Netanyahu included in a public speech. The occasion was a ceremony involving the awarding of a prize named after Eliezer Ben Yehuda, considered the reviver of Hebrew as a spoken language, held in the presence of the minister of culture and sports, the cabinet secretary, the mayor of Rishon Letzion, the director-general of the ministry of culture and sports and a number of senior academics in the field of the Hebrew language. Here, in order to argue that Modern Hebrew is a direct continuation of Biblical Hebrew (a controversial claim among Hebrew linguistics, that partly percolated into the public discourse), he tells the audience about a conversation he had with George Papandreou, the then PM of Greece, about the connection between Ancient Greek and Modern Greek. According to Netanyahu’s implied argument, Papandreou’s answer proves the uniqueness of the Hebrew language. For the present purpose, the style is important.

(5) I was recently in Athens where I visited the Pantheon together with my good friend, Greek Prime Minister George Papandreou […] and I asked Papandreou: “George, can you read ancient Greek? Can you read the works of the ancient philosophers and playwrights? Can you read them in the original? “ He answered: “No, I had to study. I did.” “And can your son read it?” “No,” he said.  (18/01/2011)



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Two different contexts are involved in this text: a constructed dialogue that took part between two world leaders (probably in English), which is reported in a formal talk in Hebrew to an Israeli audience. The Hebrew style of the constructed dialogue is highly informal and resembles an ordinary face-to-face interaction, not only because of the term of address – the Greek prime minister’s first name – but also due to the very simple, direct and informal style that is used. The question whether this constructed dialogue reflects how the dialogue proceeded in reality is not important; for the Israeli audience it is a two-layer message, transmitted “as if given off.” It indicates that Netanyahu talks like every other Israeli, which is an indication of ordinariness, and that he uses this style even when having a friendly talk with world leaders – which might suggest the opposite of ordinariness. This kind of duality within one utterance will be further discussed in Section 6 below. 4.2 Reference to ordinary lifestyle and preferences Netanyahu tends to use utterances that express friendship with the entire audience or individuals in the audience, thus explicitly framing formal occasions as informal. In a speech before the Executive Committee of the World Zionist Organization, he said:

(6) First of all, I’m happy to be here together with my wife at a free evening, with friends. (23/06/2011)

By using the phrase “a free evening” (erev xofshi), he frames the occasion as informal, seemingly transforming the genre of his talk from a ceremonial, epidictic speech to an interpersonal communication among friends. However, it stands to reason that occasions such as these, following which his prepared speech is published on the official website of the Prime Minister’s Office, cannot be construed to be “a free evening with friends.” Even more interesting are references to a culture-specific lifestyle that Netanyahu pretends to share with the audience. At the speech he gave at a conference of the Manufacturers Association of Israel (see Example 2 above), he tells the president of the association:

(7) You said “Let’s meet.” So, you bring the steaks, I’ll bring the salad, bring Ofer. We can meet next week.  (13/01/2011)

Netanyahu is referencing here an accepted practice in the Israeli culture of getting together with friends or family for a meal in one of their homes or in a public place, with each participant bringing part of the meal. The kind of event is informal and the invitation may also be informal, as it is here. Without knowing the context of this utterance, it might be interpreted as an invitation or proposal performed in

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the manner accepted in Israeli culture. However, it is reasonable to assume that when the president of the Manufacturers Association said “Let’s meet,” he was referring to a formal meeting. Netanyahu, through the use of free conversational style, turns the future meeting into an informal get-together, pretending to behave in a manner typical of Israeli culture. Netanyahu even extends this alleged spontaneous invitation for an informal get-together in a way typical of Israeli society, by adding the utterance “Bring Ofer” (Tavi et ofer). “Ofer” is the first name of Ofer Eyni, the then chair of the Histadrut Labor Federation. Here he is referred to as a mutual friend that the addressee is allowed to bring with him without a direct invitation from the host himself. This style and the use of the first name are suited to a conversation between friends preparing for a social gathering but does not reflect the way in which business meetings and political meetings are staged. Thus, in Example (7) Netanyahu is pretending to be just an ordinary Israeli who invites (other ordinary) friends over for a social gathering. In his appearances in the media too, Netanyahu makes an effort to stage a lifestyle and preferences common to ordinary Israelis. After the Bnei Yehuda soccer team won the national championship, Netanyahu phoned the owner of the team to congratulate him, saying:

(8) I know the place [the neighborhood] well. I’ll come to visit the neighborhood soon; we’ll wipe some hummus. Convey my congratulations to everyone. Best wishes and congratulations!  (Ynet 26/05/2017)

The Bnei Yehuda soccer team has been a symbol of popular culture since it was founded, and it is still associated with the Hatikva neighborhood in Tel Aviv, a neighborhood most of whose residents belong to a relatively low socioeconomic status. Moreover, in Israeli culture it is known as an area where one can find numerous restaurants serving typical, unpretentious, local Israeli foods, including hummus, a popular dish among many Israelis that is also a symbol of popular, local culture. The use of the verb “to wipe” (lenagev) relates to the accepted, popular method of eating hummus by holding a piece of pita bread in one’s hand in order to “wipe” the hummus from the plate. While mentioning the eating of hummus in this way, Netanyahu acts as if wiping hummus with friends in hummus bars (xumusiya) is a regular habit of his. Hummus bars, eateries that specialize in hummus, have become a symbol of popular Israeli culture since they are usually relatively unassuming and inexpensive venues that may not always be spotlessly clean. This symbol is inconsistent with Netanyahu’s preferred lifestyle as it is (critically) presented by the Israeli media, and includes dining in fancy restaurants, smoking expensive cigars and staying in luxurious hotels around the world. A further example that mentions the eating of hummus in a similar way is an article on one of the news sites in 2017 that tells of a lunch that Netanyahu had in a



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hummus bar in Jerusalem with Finance Minister Moshe Kahlon, whom Netanyahu repeatedly called “Moishe.” “Moishe” is a common way of pronouncing the name Moshe, after the Yiddish style, a nickname that the finance minister himself does not use and is inconsistent with his ethnic extraction. (Indeed, reservations towards this use are implied by the use of quotation marks.) The article tells us:

(9) The official reason that “Moishe” was invited to this highly acclaimed lunch was to congratulate him on a successful economic year. Towards the conclusion, Netanyahu live-streamed the meeting on Facebook to share the many achievements with the masses, and by-the-by, to brandish a few falafel balls and his warm friendship with the finance minister. “It’s a bonus for an excellent economic year,” said Netanyahu. “That’s what we do, we wipe hummus together and we’ll keep on wiping hummus together.”  (Ynet 08/02/2017)

Since the public that has been following Netanyahu’s lifestyle for a few decades now, thanks to the media, knows that his regular lifestyle is entirely different, these comments appear to be a populist pretense aimed at an attempt to gain popularity by presenting ordinariness and similarity with the audience. In fact, Example  (8) does not demonstrate “staged ordinariness” but “communicated ordinariness,” according to Gruber’s terminology. The information Netanyahu gives about his ordinariness lies at the focus of the interaction and the message he communicates is explicitly about his seeming ordinariness. This explicit statement by Netanyahu about himself appears artificial and deliberately aimed at creating a show of ordinariness. A further example of communicated ordinariness could be found at the abovementioned conference of the Manufacturers Association, where Netanyahu turned to the chairman of the Histadrut Labor Federation with these words: (10) Ofer, I have one request before that, you know what it is. We have a little matter we need to take care of in the Israel Lands Authority. You recall what it is, right? Help us with that matter and we’ll take care of the other things. That’s how we are; we take care of things. (13/01/2011)

The phrase “take care of things” (mesadrim dvarim), and especially the Hebrew verb lesader, refers to a work done not exactly “by the book,” that is largely based on interpersonal relationships and familiarity. By using this wording, Netanyahu seemingly reveals the informal, behind-the-scenes work method that typifies Israeli culture, and the informal colloquialism he uses contributes to this impression. Without access to the inside routines of Netanyahu’s administration, it is impossible to know whether they are reflected in these behaviors that are brought to the front, but the very fact that he makes an effort to communicate them so

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explicitly hints that it is merely an artificial attempt to come across as more similar to “Israelis” in this sense. As I have demonstrated in this section, the discursive practices used by Netanyahu to both “stage” and “communicate” ordinariness reflect his efforts to present himself as an Israeli that talks and acts like “every” Israeli and seemingly engages in a lifestyle similar to that of many other Israelis. On the other hand, in the next section I will demonstrate how Netanyahu presents himself as non-ordinary. 5. Constructing Netanyahu’s life as an epic From an analysis of Netanyahu’s public talks, it appears that many things he says reflect an implied belief that his life is unique, that everything in his life is symbolic and carries significance above its personal, ordinary meaning. Many of the details he makes known present his life as a story from which his uniqueness is implied. His family background provides such details, and he knows how to make them meaningful. His father was a scholar of Jewish history, whose field of expertise was the history of the Jews in Spain, and he served as an editor of the Hebrew Encyclopedia, a highly prestigious intellectual project. Netanyahu the father belonged to a tiny intellectual elite, and the stories Netanyahu the son often tells in his speeches about his childhood in Jerusalem are filled with meetings with well-known, central figures from the history and culture of the State of Israel. Netanyahu’s grandfather, Nathan Milikovsky, was a rabbi, educator, writer and Zionist activist who used to deliver his sermons in Hebrew, an uncommon practice at the time. His family was one of the few families in the world who spoke Hebrew at that time. Netanyahu knows how to use larger-than-life details of this kind in his public speeches. A story from this grandfather’s childhood, that Netanyahu has repeated on a number of occasions describes how following an anti-Semitic attack he experienced in Europe as a child, he decided to immigrate to Israel in order to change the fate of the Jewish People. Here is the version he narrated in English in the UN Assembly: (11) One cold day in the late 19th century, my grandfather Nathan and his younger brother Judah were standing in a railway station in the heart of Europe. They were seen by a group of anti-Semitic hoodlums who ran towards them waving clubs, screaming, “Death to the Jews!” My grandfather shouted to his younger brother to flee and save himself. And he then stood alone against the raging mob to slow it down. They beat him senseless. They left him for dead. Before he passed out, covered in his own blood, he said to himself: “What a disgrace! What a disgrace! The descendants of the Maccabees lie in the mud, powerless to defend themselves.”



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He promised himself then that if he lived, he would take his family to the Jewish homeland to help build a future for the Jewish people   (UN assembly 2013, emphasis added).

This story, with its impressive coda in the last sentence, combines Netanyahu’s personal narrative and the national one and merges them into a unified story. In this way, the story of Netanyahu’s family represents the story of the state of Israel and Netanyahu himself seems to embody the entire Jewish-Israeli story in his own self. The audience gets the impression that Netanyahu is not an ordinary person; on the contrary, he is a non-ordinary person who comes from a unique family and lives an extraordinary life. This, then, is the other part of being ordinary and unique at the same time. 6. Problematizing the concept of ordinariness: The social-cultural perspective The examples analyzed above demonstrate the abovementioned claim that the concept of ordinariness is culturally dependent. In fact, the question regarding a politician being an ordinary person or pretending ordinariness is culturally dependent in two completing ways. First, the question regarding the kind of qualities, behaviors, personal history and so on that are involved in being an ordinary person or being perceived as one is culturally dependent. Weizman and Johansson (2019), who examined how ordinariness is constructed in online commenting in two large corpora in Hebrew and Finnish, identified similarities but also culture-specific constructions of ordinariness. Second, and perhaps most important for politicians, different cultures might demand a different balance between the ordinary and the epic in a politician’s image. Moreover, this balance can change over time, as the society and its norms undergo changes. Thus, our question must be: “What does it mean to be an ordinary person in a particular culture at a particular time.” An examination of the details of Netanyahu’s life story puts us in a position from which the complex and not self-evident nature of what might be called Israeli ordinariness can be studied. A case from the Israeli context will demonstrate the complexity of this concept. In this case, the type of ordinariness that is relevant to the discussion is the positive ordinariness of the middle-class Israeli citizen who is appreciated and respected by the public and is entitled to being accounted to by decision makers on the basis of fulfilling civil duties. Weizman and Fetzer (2018: 40–41) analyze a journalistic text that clearly connects ordinariness with civil duties such as “working, paying taxes and standing in line as a metaphor for keeping up with social norms.” Weizman and Johansson (2019) found that

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associating the notion of ordinariness with military service is a specificity of the Hebrew data-set. Their findings show that ordinary citizens are positioned by commenters as active and accountable when acting as ordinary soldiers. The case that will be analyzed is related to what is considered in Israel, legally or morally, a civil duty, and the analysis will demonstrate how a politician, Netanyahu in this case, can use it to construct his life as both ordinary and epic. Military service in Israel is mandatory for men and women of the Jewish population and for men of the Druse minority (it is not mandatory for the Muslim and Christian Israeli-Arab population). Mandatory service currently lasts 24 months for women and 32 months for men. For the Jewish population, a society of immigrants with large socio-economic gaps, military service became the main arena in which citizens from different backgrounds constructed a unified national identity based on common values and goals. A considerable body of literature is dedicated to the central role of the army in shaping Israeli society (e.g. Sheffer 2008). Military service is a regular constituent of the normal life of most Israelis, which routinely includes school-army-university/work. For instance, since military service is considered the default for the vast majority of Israelis, a regular phase of one’s life, it is not unusual for an applicant to be asked about it during a job interview. In the Israeli context, military service also bears with it significant moral value, due to the longstanding and widely shared view that a strong military is essential to the very existence and survival of the state itself. Thus, anyone who serves is considered to have fulfilled his or her fundamental social duty, while shirking army service almost invariably draws criticism, as the case of the Ultra-orthodox Jews (Haredim) can demonstrate. Following political agreements made in the 1950s, ultra-Orthodox males studying in a yeshiva (a Jewish institution for religious studies) are exempt from military service (ultra-Orthodox women are exempt from military service, as are all women who declare that they are religiously observant). This fact, among other things, makes them outsiders and makes their life and behavior paradoxical in the eyes of other groups that associate the responsibilities of civil rights to duties such as serving in the military (Shukrun-Nagar 2013). It seems safe then to claim that serving in the military is an indicator of Israeli ordinariness. In 2014, the time came for Benjamin Netanyahu’s younger son Avner to enlist in the military. On the day of his enlistment, the Netanyahu family accompanied Avner to the recruitment center, as almost all Israeli families do. There they had their pictures taken of them saying goodbye to him, which resemble the pictures every other Israeli family takes of this type of event in every way. Staged ordinariness is indicated in these pictures: a regular, all-Israeli family sending their son to the army. However, after reviewing the military service of Benjamin Netanyahu himself and the way he refers to it in his public talks, the picture becomes more complex.



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Netanyahu was trained as a combat soldier and served as an officer in an elite commando unit for five years, perhaps the most prestigious commando unit in the Israeli army, the one in which a number of other famous figures, including a former PM Ehud Barak also served. He was wounded in combat on multiple occasions and was nearly killed in one of them. He was involved in many other missions, including the celebrated rescue of the hijacked Sabena flight in 1972. His public speeches make frequent reference to these details and Example (12) is a quote from a speech he made in the US congress in 2011: (12) I was nearly killed in a firefight inside the Suez Canal. I mean that literally. I battled terrorists along both banks of the Jordan River  (US Congress 2011)

These heroic details are not common in the military career of most Israelis, and thus cannot be indicative of ordinariness. Thus, although serving in the army in itself might constitute Israeli ordinariness, serving for five years as an officer in the IDF’s most prestigious commando unit and risking your life in the most dangerous and heroic secret military actions cannot represent ordinariness. It seems, then that mentioning military service by Netanyahu serves two opposing ways of self-positioning at the same time, the ordinary and the epic. Another culturally specific theme connected to that of military service is that of bereavement. Losing a close family member in battle or military activity is of course not a civil duty per se, but it implicitly indicates one’s willingness to make the ultimate contribution to society and the state: self-sacrifice. Being a bereaved parent, child or sibling of a dead soldier includes one in what is called in Israel “the family of bereavement.” Since this “family,” this group, is a large one, being part of it presents some kind of Israeli ordinariness, insofar that the death of young people can possibly be considered “ordinary.” In this case the implied positive ordinariness is not applied directly to the bereaved person, since he or she is not the one who is considered willing to sacrifice his/her life, but it is nevertheless applied to him or her vicariously by extension. Benjamin Netanyahu is a bereaved brother, and Example (13) includes a reference to this fact. It is taken from a speech he delivered in 2009 at The Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies at Bar-Ilan University, in which he expressed support, for the first time, for what is known as the 2-state solution for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, by suggesting the creation of “a demilitarized Palestinian state that would recognize the Jewish state.” In order to justify the surprising change in his political stance, he said: (13) I know the face of war. I have experienced battle. I lost close friends. I lost a brother. I have seen the pain of bereaved families. I do not want war.  (14/06/2009)

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For Netanyahu, losing his elder brother was a personal tragedy that according to his own testimony considerably affected his life (Kimhi 2001), but the question is whether, and in what way, his bereavement makes him “ordinary.” In the text above itself, Netanyahu sounds like every Israeli combat soldier that has participated in wars. The reference to his bereavement is fused to this utterance in a way that makes it part of experiencing battle, thus interpreted as a self-presentation of being just an ordinary Israeli that has experienced battle. However, the specific identity of Netanyahu’s brother, Yonatan (Yoni) Netanyahu, is crucial to understanding the whole picture. Yoni Netanyahu was an officer in the same elite commando unit in which Benjamin Netanyahu also served. He commanded the unit during Operation Entebbe, an operation to rescue Israeli hostages being held at Entebbe Airport in Uganda in 1976. The mission was successful, but Yoni was killed in action – the only IDF fatality during the operation. The operation is known in Israel as “Operation Yonatan,” (after him), and Yoni became a national hero. Films, documentaries and Hollywood movies have been made that tell the story of the heroic rescue operation and Yoni’s life story. The Netanyahu family dedicated itself to “an unprecedented memorial to their son” (Kimhi 2001: 219) a project that “became the center of Benjamin Netanyahu’s life and served as a springboard to becoming a noted and international expert on terrorism” (2001: 219). In 1979, he founded the Yonatan Institute, which sponsors international conferences on terrorism. In 1978, Yonatan Netanyahu’s personal letters were published in a book, The Letters of Yonatan Netanyahu, edited by his two brothers. Author Herman Wouk describes it as a “remarkable work of literature, possibly one of the great documents of our time” (Netanyahu 2001: VII). The book became extremely popular among young Israelis, soldiers and officers. Kimhi (2001: 219) believes that “there is no doubt that Benjamin Netanyahu grieved very deeply for his brother, but it is also impossible to ignore his exploitation of the memorial for his own self-advancement.” This example demonstrates once again the dual potential that a culturespecific analysis might bring to light. While being a bereaved brother might indicate some kind of Israeli ordinariness in the positive meaning of being part of the population that fulfills its civic duty, being a brother of Yonatan Netanyahu is anything but ordinary. On the contrary, if one’s dead brother is a national hero, an admired figure who became a national symbol, one’s bereavement can no longer be considered “ordinary”; rather, it is an extraordinary, epic bereavement. Thus, Netanyahu stages in both Examples(12)–(13) a dual image of both an ordinary and an extraordinary Israeli at the same time.



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7. Concluding remarks The aim of this study was to define and analyze one of the discursive practices employed by Israeli PM Benjamin Netanyahu in his public talks, namely the construction of an image that on the one hand, every citizen can identify with and on the other, presents him as so unique as to be irreplaceable. The concept of ordinariness was central to the description of this discursive practice, assuming, following Sacks (1984), that the presentation of self as an ordinary or extraordinary person is a work that is done through discourse. Thus, the examples demonstrated the stylistic, discursive and thematic aspects of Netanyahu’s public discourse that enable audiences to perceive him as “one of them,” and at the same time as a leader whose life is epic, whose mission is unique, whose abilities are extraordinary. I argued that this dual image is in line with theories of charismatic leadership, some of which emphasize the importance of the presentation of similarity between the leader and his followers (Shamir et al. 1994), while others characterize charismatic authority by the leader being perceived as being set apart from ordinary men and having exceptional powers or qualities (Weber 1947). The analysis showed that Netanyahu in his public talks employs two means to convey his ordinariness to the audience. In most of the examples he stages the information about his ordinariness “as if given off ” (Gruber, 2019), namely he expects the audience to conclude it from the seemingly unintentional aspects of his appearance. However, some examples are different and resemble what Gruber calls “communicated ordinariness.” Netanyahu in these utterances explicitly informs the audience about ordinary aspects of his life. If the former mode of conveying information seems artificial, assuming that an experienced politician is well aware of the “given off ” aspects of his behavior, the latter appears to be a clear and obvious pretense. The analysis identified two types of ordinariness that Netanyahu communicates to the audience. One is the positive ordinariness that Weizman and Fetzer (2018) associate with the fulfillment of civic duties. The other is being “all-Israeli” in the sense of being an average, down-to-earth member of Israeli society, including even some unsophisticated characteristics. Netanyahu conveys this type of ordinariness through the use of linguistic elements that are interpreted as typical of ordinary Israelis and that reference an “all-Israeli” lifestyle. Adopting Weizman and Fetzer’s (2018) claim that ordinariness is a scalar concept, it might be suggested that this type of ordinariness is somewhat less positive than the former, but still positive enough and apparently effective for many audiences. The examples show the need to examine ordinariness within the individual’s social-cultural context. Culturally specific norms and values are essential in order to understand the construction of ordinariness by a political leader, together with

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specific knowledge about his life. This claim was demonstrated in the last section with the argument that Netanyahu’s references to being a combat soldier and a bereaved brother can serve to construct an ordinary and extraordinary image in the very same utterance. I suggest that one of Netanyahu’s discursive strengths is his ability to manipulate these two conflicting directions and merge them into a coherent, convincing and effective public image. It might also be suggested that the audience is expected to trust him, and in fact does trust him and follow him, in part due to these two faces of his public image.

References Aristotle. 1982. Rhetoric. Freese, J. H. (trans.), Cambridge: MA. Davies, Brown, and Rom Harré. 1990. “Positioning: The Discursive Production of Selves.” Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour 20 (1): 43–63. ​ https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-5914.1990.tb00174.x

Dori-Hacohen, Gonen. 2009. Citizens Talk about Public Affairs: The Description of the Political Phone-in Program on Israeli Public Radio. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Haifa [In Hebrew]. Dori–Hacohen, Gonen and Nimrod Shavit. 2013. “The Cultural Meanings of Israeli Tokbek (Talk–Back Online Commenting) and their Relevance to the Online Democratic Public Sphere.” International Journal of Electronic Governance 6 (4): 361–379. ​ https://doi.org/10.1504/IJEG.2013.060649

Goffman, Erving. 1959. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Penguin Books. Goffman, Erving. 1974. Frame Analysis. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Gruber, Helmut. This volume. “Are Austrian Presidential Candidates Ordinary People? Candidates’ Self-Presentation Strategies on Twitter during the 2016 Austrian Presidential Campaign.” Fetzer, Anita, and Elda Weizman. 2018. “‘What I would say to John and everyone like John is …’: The Construction of Ordinariness through Quotations in Mediated Political Discourse.” Discourse & Society 29 (5): 1–19. House, Robert J. 1977. “A 1976 Theory of Charismatic Leadership.” In Leadership: The Cutting Edge, ed. by James G. Hunt, and Lars L. Larson, Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Johansson, Marjut. 2015. “Bravo for this Editorial: Writer’s Opinions in Comment Sections.” In Follow-Ups in Political Discourse, ed. by Elda Weizman, and Anita Fetzer, 219–243. John Benjamins, Amsterdam.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.259.09joh Katriel, Tamar. 1986. Talking Straight: Dugri Speech in Israeli Sabra Culture. Cambridge University Press. Katriel, Tamar. 1999. Milot mafteach: dfusey tarbut vetikshoret beisrael (‘Key Words: Patterns of Culture and Communication in Israel’). Tel Aviv: Haifa University Press and Zmora Bitan. [Hebrew]. Katriel, Tamar. 2004. Dialogic Moments: From Soul Talks to Talk Radio in Israeli Culture. Detroit: Wayne State University Press (Raphael Patai series on Jewish Folklore and Ethnography).



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Kimhi, Shaul. 2001. “Benjamin Netanyahu: A Psychological Profile Using Behavior Analysis.”In Profiling Political Leaders: Cross-Cultural Studies of Personality and Behavior, ed. by Ofer Feldman and Linda O. Valenty, 149–164.Westport, Connecticut & London: Praeger. Kleinke, Sonja. 2010. “Interactive Aspects of Computer-Mediated Communication. Disagreement in an English and German Public News Group.” In Discourses in Interaction, ed. by Sanna-Kaisa Tanskanen, Marja-Liisa Helasvuo, Marjut Johansson, and Mia Raitaniemi, 195–222. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.203.15kle Lewin, Beverly A. and Zohar Livnat. 2016. “‘Like everyone else in the nation, I was also moved’: Reinforcing Solidarity in PM Netanyahu’s Hebrew speeches.” Israel Studies in Language and Society 9: 29-51. [Hebrew] Livnat, Zohar, and Beverly A. Lewin. 2016. “The Interpersonal Strand of Political Speech: Recruiting the Audience in PM Benjamin Netanyahu’s Speeches.” Language and Dialogue 6 (2): 275–305.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/ld.6.2.04liv Netanyahu, Yonathan. 2001. The Letters of Jonathan Netanyahu: The Commander of the Entebbe Rescue Operation, Gefen Publishing house. Neuman, Yair, and Iris Tabak. 2003. “Inconsistency as an Interactional Problem: A Lesson from Political Rhetoric.” Journal of Psycholinguistic Research 32 (3): 251–267. ​ https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1023569501293

Perelman, Chaïm and Olbrechts-Tyteca, Lucie. 1958. The New Rhetoric: A Treatise on Argumentation. J. Wilkinson and P. Weaver (trans.). Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 1969. Reisigl, Martin. 2010. “Rhetoric of Political Speeches.” In Handbook of Communication in the Public Sphere, ed. by Ruth Wodak and Veronika Koller, 243–269. Mouton de Gruyter. Reyes, Antonio. 2011. “Palin vs Biden: The Right for Credibility in Political Discourse.” Issues in Political Discourse Analysis 3 (1): 75–94. Sacks, Harvey. 1984. “On Doing ‘Being Ordinary’.” In Structures of Social Action, ed. by J. Maxwell Atkinson and John Heritage, 413–429. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shamir, Boas, Michael Arthur, and Robert House. 1994. “The Rhetoric of Charismatic Leadership: A Theoretical Extension, a Case Study, and Implications for Research.” The Leadership Quarterly 5 (1): 25–42.  ​https://doi.org/10.1016/1048-9843(94)90004-3 Shamir, Boas, Robert House, and Michael Arthur. 1993. “The Motivational Effects of Charismatic Leadership: A Self-Concept Based Theory.” Organization Science 4 (4): 577–594. ​ https://doi.org/10.1287/orsc.4.4.577

Shefer, Gabi, Oren Barak, and Amiram Oren (eds.). 2008. Tsava sheyesh lo medina? Mabat mexudash al yaxasei hatxum vbitxoni vehatxum hamedini beisrael (‘An Army That Has a State: New Approaches to Civil-Security Relations in Israel’). Jerusalem: Carmel Publishing House. [Hebrew]. Shukrun-Nagar, Pnina. 2013. “The Construction of Paradoxes in News Discourse: The Coverage of the Israeli Haredi Community as a Case in Point.” Discourse Studies 15 (4): 463–480. ​ https://doi.org/10.1177/1461445613482432

Shukrun-Nagar, Pnina. This volume. “‘Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?’: Different Readings of Ordinariness in a Politician’s Facebook Post as a Case in Point” Snow, David A., E. Burke Rochford, Steven K. Worden, and Robert D. Benford. 1986. “Frame Alignment Processes, Micromobilization and Movement Participation.” American Sociological Review 51: 464–481.  ​https://doi.org/10.2307/2095581 Turner, Graeme. 2010. Ordinary People and the Media: The Demotic Turn. Sage.

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Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions1 Anita Fetzer and Peter Bull

University of Augsburg, Germany / Universities of York and Salford, UK

Prime Minister’s Questions is the central British parliamentary institution. Every week Members of Parliament have the opportunity to pose questions to the Prime Minister, frequently utilising quotations from various sources, e.g. allies from the quoter’s political party, political opponents, experts, or ordinary people. The focus of this contribution is on the strategic use of quotations from ordinary people in the interchanges between the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition. The data comprise 240 question-response sequences. In the sequences analysed, quotations make up 9% of the total word count for Cameron-Miliband and 10% for Cameron-Corbyn: 2% of the quotations are sourced by ordinary people in the Cameron-Miliband data, and 31% in the Cameron-Corbyn data. Corbyn’s systematic use of quotations from ordinary people was novel, foregrounding their political issues and assigning them the status of an object of discourse in the media thus making the government accountable to them. Keywords: accountability, elite political discourse, follow-up, metadata, non-elite political discourse, ordinariness, private-public interface, quotation

1. Introduction Political discourse has been described as public discourse, institutional discourse, media discourse and professional discourse pointing out its multilayeredness and dynamics (Fetzer 2013; Weizman and Fetzer 2015), and it has been differentiated into elite political discourse and non-elite political discourse (cf. van Dijk 1993; Wodak 2011). One of the contexts where the dynamics and multilayeredness of 1.  The research of the first author has been supported by a grant from the German Israeli Foundation for Scientific Research and Development (GIF Grant I−153-104.3-2017). https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.04ani © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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political discourse and elite and non-elite political discourse meet is parliamentary discourse, in particular Prime Minister’s Questions (PMQs) in the British context, which is constrained by a particularised code of conduct and has become mediated political discourse performed by professional politicians with its own channel, Parliamentlive.tv. PMQs is the central British parliamentary institution and its highest profile parliamentary event. Every week in the House of Commons, Members of Parliament (MPs) have the opportunity for at least half an hour to pose questions to the Prime Minister (PM) on any topic of their choice, frequently utilising quotations from various sources, e.g. allies from the political party of the quoter2 or from other supporters, from political opponents, from experts, and from ordinary people. The focus of this contribution is on the strategic use of quotations with the source of ordinary people in the interchanges between the PM and the Leader of the Opposition (LO), focussing on the interface between elite political discourse as performed by the PM, LO and other MPs and non-elite political discourse brought into the elite political discourse through quotations; particular attention will be given to how ordinary people are presented in the quoting contexts and how their quotations are taken up by the PM and by the LO. The data comprise 20 exchanges between David Cameron (former Leader of the Conservative Party and PM from 11 May 2010 to 13 July 2016) and Ed Miliband (former Leader of the Labour Party and LO, 25 September 2010 to 8 May 2015), and 20 exchanges between David Cameron and Jeremy Corbyn (current Leader of the Labour Party and LO, since 16 September 2015). Each session contains 6 questions from the LO and 6 responses from the PM. Hence, a total overall of 240 question-response sequences was analysed. The total number of words has been counted for the interchanges between the PM and LO for each of the 6 question-response exchanges of the 40 sessions of PMQs. In the sequences analysed, quotations make up 9% of the total word count for Cameron-Miliband data and 10% for Cameron-Corbyn data: in the Cameron-Miliband exchanges 2% of the quotations are from ordinary people while 31% are from ordinary people in the Cameron-Corbyn data. The research design is based on the premise that political discourse shares the fundamental premises of natural-language communication, which do not only hold for natural-language communication and political discourse as a whole, 2.  In this chapter, quoter refers to the participant who undertakes the communicative act of quoting, quoted refers to the conversational contribution(s) which the quoter quotes, source refers to the original producer of the quoted excerpt, and quotative refers to the verb of communication which introduces the quoted excerpt. Quotation is used as an umbrella term comprising the constitutive parts of the communicative act, i.e. quoter, source, quoted and quotative.



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but also for its constitutive parts. They may span from discourse genre and its contextual constraints and requirements, participants in their interactional and discursive roles and identities to discursive contributions and their constitutive parts. In this chapter it is argued that those generalised (or default) constraints may undergo context-sensitive particularisation in mediated political discourse. The chapter subscribes to methodological compositionality, accommodating the fundamental premises of pragmatics, particularly rationality, cooperation and intentionality of communicative action (Brown and Levinson 1987; Grice 1975; Searle 1969, 1995), and interactional sociolinguistics, in particular indexicality of communicative action, conversational inference, language as socially situated form, and linguistic variation, i.e. variations and alterations are not random or arbitrary, but communicatively functional and meaningful (Gumperz 1992). The main bridging points between pragmatics and interactional sociolinguistics lie in the explicit accommodation of context – and thus of discourse genre – as a complex and dynamic whole. For the discourse domain of political discourse, both the dynamics of context, discourse genre and the complexity of participation are of key importance. Conceiving of participants as rational agents who direct their discursive contributions intentionally towards a ratified set of addressees further refines the analytic framework by providing a set of methodological tools, which allow for the analysis of meaning production and meaning interpretation in context. The discursive contextualisation of quotations from ordinary people in PMQs displays interesting patterns. Corbyn presents them not as singled out individuals but rather as generic first names, e.g. “Paul, for example, asks this very heartfelt question: ‘Why is the government taking tax credits away from families? …’”. Sometimes the quoted ordinary person is further characterised by the entextualisation3 of their role in society, e.g., “I have a question from Steven, who works for a housing association. He says that the cut in rents will mean …”, or ordinary people are presented as generic representatives of a relevant group, such as nurses or teachers. In his4 response to quotation from ordinary people and the LO’s request to provide an answer to their questions, the PM tends to recycle 3.  The use of ‘entextualisation’ in this contribution differs from the one promoted by Park and Bucholtz (2009), who define entextualisation primarily in terms of institutional control and ideology. Entextualisation refers to participants assigning an unbounded referential domain, for instance an unbounded event, the status of a bounded referential domain or a bounded event. ‘Entextualisation’ as used in this chapter shares Park and Bucholtz’s approach of conceptualising entextualisation in terms of “conditions inherent in the transposition of discourse from one context into another” (2009: 489), while additionally considering local contexts. 4.  In this chapter, the use of personal pronouns is in accordance with socio-cultural gender.

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the referring expressions to ordinary persons as used by the LO, thus responding to the ordinary person, e.g. “Let me now answer, very directly, Marie’s question”, and generally formatting his response to the ordinary person as a hypothetical quotation; frequently the responsive frame is extended to a more generalised responsive format of which the ordinary person is seen as a representative, e.g. “What I would say to Steven, and to all those who are working in housing associations and doing a good job, is that for years in our country there was something of a merry-go-round.” Corbyn’s systematic use of quotations from ordinary people was novel in the context of PMQs, foregrounding their ordinary-life experience and their political issues and assigning them the status of an object of discourse in order to make the government accountable to them, not only in the House of Commons but in the media in general, thus marking a departure from scoring points at the expense of one another as has generally been the case with quotations from other sources. The chapter is structured as follows. The next section analyses and discusses quotation in linguistics, pragmatics and discourse analysis, considering in particular their status as higher-level speech acts in discourse and their discursive functions. Section 3 discusses the concepts of ordinariness and of ordinary people, while Section 4 adapts the results from Sections 2 and 3 to the contextual constraints and requirements of PMQs, in particular to the exchange between the PM and LO and their quoting ordinary people. The focus of analysis lies on the linguistic realisation of the uptakes of quotations from ordinary people by the PM or LO in follow-ups and their references to source, quoter, quoted and other metadata. A conclusion summarises the results obtained. 2. Quotation This section analyses the forms and functions of quotations in the context of mediated political discourse. To capture the inherent dynamics of mediated and mediatised political discourse, the analysis of quoting accounts for illocutionary acts, higher-level illocutionary acts, speaker-intended perlocutionary effects and for particularities in linguistic formatting. It shows that quotations are used strategically to achieve the following goals: (1) intensify the force of a contribution, (2) demonstrate ideological coherence / non-coherence of self or other in order to target the credibility of self or other, and (3) express alignment or disalignment. On a more global level, quotations contribute to the construal of interdiscursivity, beckoning addressees out of a discourse into a more or less specified prior discourse, which is assigned the status of being quote-worthy and thus relevant to the present discourse, and beckoning addressees back in again, pointing at



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(in-)congruencies in the current agenda as regards policies, political agents or political positions, and commenting on them more or less explicitly. Quotations have been examined in the field of linguistics, pragmatics, discourse analysis and conversation analysis across various languages, contexts and cultures. In pragmatics and metapragmatics, quotation has been distinguished with regard to use and mention, and it is generally classified as an instance of mention and thus as special form of metarepresentation, comprising metalinguistic (pure) quotation and reported speech, i.e. direct and indirect speech (cf. Brendel, Meibauer and Steinbach 2011: 1), as well as a mixed type of quotation, that is free indirect speech. From a context-based perspective, quotations are of interest because the indexicals used in a quotation cannot be bound by the reporting – or the actual – context. Consequently, it is not only indirect quotation and free indirect speech, which are referentially opaque, but also direct quotation.5 To make indirect speech grammatically well-formed, special grammatical means, viz. backshift of tense and indexical shift, are required. This also applies to the formatting of indirect thought and belief reports. Other, less frequent forms of quotation are emphatic quotation or greengrocer’s quotation, for instance, we sell “fresh” milk, foregrounding and thus emphasising the freshness of the dairy product by implicitly contrasting it with a set of non-fresh milk sold in other stores, and scare quotation referred to as mixed quotation in this chapter, that is a quotation embedded in the quoting discourse or in another quotation. In mixed quotation, selected quoted content (“recoup that money”) is a constitutive – semantic or syntactic – part of a quotation, e.g. “What does the Prime Minister want to do to ‘recoup that money’ for the consumer?” (PMQs, Edward Miliband 23 October 2013). With the use of mixed quotation, the quoter may express a kind of detachment from the quoted, querying its appropriateness, if not validity. All kinds of quotations require the contextualisation and possibly re-contextualisation of the quoted, such as “fresh” in the emphatic quotation and “recoup that money” in the mixed quotation. In the former, something is foregrounded which is generally taken for granted in that scenario, and in the latter, the quoter recycles a particular formulation and assigns it the status of an object of talk. Quotations require pragmatic enrichment and thus the explicit accommodation of context. In discourse analysis and conversation analysis, quotation has been further differentiated with respect to self-quotation with self in a dual function as source and quoter, and other-quotation with non-conflating quoter and source, accounting for the participation framework.

5.  This issue is of particular importance to the translation of quotations (cf. Schäffner and Bassnett (2010), in particular their introductory chapter).

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In the following section, the linguistic formatting of the different kinds of quotation is investigated. 2.1 Linguistic formatting In linguistics and studies of grammar, quotation is differentiated with respect to a direct type of quotation (or: direct speech), an indirect type of quotation (or: indirect/reported speech), a mixed type of quotation (or: free indirect speech, free indirect discourse or represented discourse), a hybrid form of mixed quotation and a focussing kind of quotation.6 All of these types refer to one or more original utterances or parts of them, and they mention these excerpts in another context. Direct quotation has been defined as a verbatim representation of what has been said in linguistics, and that is why they are said to demonstrate the relevance and immediacy of the quoted to the here-and-now. This is the case with the LO quoting an excerpt from a letter from Adrian, an ordinary person, in PMQs (23 March 2016): “I’m disabled and I live in constant fear of my benefits being reassessed and stopped … and being forced onto the streets”. Formatted as an indirect quotation, the quotation needs to accommodate temporal and deictic shifts to mark the transition from one context to another as well as the quoter’s interpretation of the source’s illocutionary force. The quoter’s interpretation of the source’s communicative intention can be formatted in various ways, for instance with the neutral quotative “say” in the following example, “the Prime Minister said that there were always lessons to be learned and he would make sure they were learned”. Alternatively, the source’s illocutionary force can be formatted as a more particularised quotative, such as “remind”, “criticise” or “promise”. As for the quotation from Adrian, it would read as follows: “Jeremy Corbyn quoted from a letter from Adrian, who wrote that he was disabled and that he lived in constant fear of his benefits being reassessed and stopped … and being forced onto the streets”. Indirect quotations thus encode some degree of subjectivity. Quoter-anchored subjectivity is also manifest in mixed quotation, which represents a hybrid kind of quotation composed of both direct and indirect quotations, e.g. “the Prime Minister said that there ‘are always lessons to be learned’ and that he would make sure they are learned”. For the PMQs example investigated above, it would read as follows: “Jeremy Corbyn quoted from a letter from Adrian, who wrote that he was disabled and that he lived ‘in constant fear’ of his benefits being reassessed and stopped … and ‘being forced onto the streets’” (cf. also Weizman 2011). 6.  Focussing quotation is referred to as parasitic quotation in Fetzer (2015).



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

Mixed types of quotation do not accommodate any deictic and temporal shifts and thus metarepresent their original contextual embeddedness, signifying relevance to the quoting discourse, for instance the Prime Minister said that there are always lessons to be learned and that I will make sure they are learned. The mixed type of quotation thus comprises a quoter who is not the source and a quotative, but does not accommodate the necessary deictic and temporal shifts in the quoted which are necessary conditions for a quotation to count as an indirect quotation. For our example, it would read as follows: “Jeremy Corbyn quoted from a letter from Adrian, who wrote that I’m disabled and I live in constant fear of my benefits being reassessed and stopped … and being forced onto the streets”. The focussing kind of quotation is very similar to a direct quotation from both form- and function-based perspectives. With the use of indexical expressions in the expanded quotative, however, focussing quotations exploit the importation of discursive context by cataphorically referring to the quotation – usually with the proximity-coloured demonstrative ‘this’ and a wh-pronoun – which focuses the quoted and triggers a process of pragmatic enrichment. With focussing quotation, the quoter foregrounds the quoted, for instance, “and this is what the Prime Minister said: ‘There are always lessons to be learned and I will make sure they are learned’”. More recently, the linguistic forms used to introduce the quoted, viz. quotatives, have been under investigation. Quotatives entextualise the quoter’s interpretation of the illocutionary force and communicative intention of the source and thereby contribute to the subjectification of quotations; the quoter may attempt to neutralise the degree of subjectification with the selection of generic verbs of communication, but s/he may also intensify the degree of subjectification by opting for particularised verbs of communication, e.g., blame, question or stutter. Quotatives, such as ‘I say’, ‘she goes’ and ‘I’m like and she’s like’, are frequently found not only in mundane everyday communication, but also in mediated political discourse. In the latter, however, the use of quotatives is more constrained and often restricted to more neutral variants adopted from generic verbs of communication, such as ‘say’ or ‘write’. Quotatives frequently utilise “lexical items that denote comparison, similarity or approximation” (Buchstaller and Van Alphen 2012: xiv), such as ‘like’ or ‘something like’, as in ‘and then she was like this … and I’m like …’ or ‘and I’m all …’ Buchstaller and Van Alpen (2012: xv) explicitly connect the approximationloaded semantics of the quotatives (e.g., like, something like) with their communicative function: “By using lexical material with comparative / similar semantics (…), speakers acknowledge and even highlight the approximate value of the quotation and thereby shield themselves from potential criticism regarding the inexact nature of the reproduction (…). The epistemic hedging function of these types of quotatives has been pointed out by a range of scholars”. However, it is not

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only their inherent vagueness, which makes lexical items qualify for quotatives, but also their demonstrative function: “The second major source of innovative quotative forms is lexical items that have demonstrative or deictic function. (…) the deictic pointing effect of these lexemes thus focuses the hearer’s attention onto the quotation and allows the performative aspects of the enactment to take center stage” (Buchstaller and Van Alphen 2012: xv). Because of the explicit mention of a demonstrative, the deictic function of the quotative is foregrounded in focussing quotations. Quotatives are also adopted from the domain of quantification (e.g., all), which like deictics and demonstratives have a foregrounding function: “The third source for new quotatives involves elements that have quantificational semantics; (…) at either ends of the scale …” (Buchstaller and Van Alphen 2012: xvi). The fourth source is “generic verbs of motion and action” (Buchstaller and Van Alphen 2012: xvi) (e.g., say, go), and “equation”, and “markers of focus and presentation” (Buchstaller and Van Alphen 2012: xix). As has surfaced in the discussion of different kinds of quotation, quotations may contain more linguistic material than their original use, and they are generally more determinate as regards their semantics. From a discursive viewpoint, however, quotations do not only import linguistic context into an ongoing discourse, but also the social and sociocultural context in which the imported stretch of linguistic context has been embedded. 2.2 Discursive functions Quotations have been classified as direct quotation, focussing quotation, indirect quotation, mixed quotation, and mixed type of quotation, and all of these forms may be further distinguished with respect to participation, that is self- and other-quotation. Quotations display anaphoric reference to some prior discourse or sometimes a prior stretch of the same discourse, recycling specific discursive excerpts and following up on them with respect to their validity and relevance to a current stage in discourse. But for which communicative purposes do participants opt for the use of quotations rather than for using their own formulations? Direct quotation has been defined as a verbatim speech/attitude-report of something, which has been said/written before. Since direct quotation is said to represent a discursive excerpt in a verbatim manner, it has generally been considered as non-evaluative, apparently representing things as they are. This also holds for focussing quotation, in which the apparent verbatim speech-report is introduced with a focussing formula composed of a demonstrative (“this”), a pre-emptive pronoun (“what”), a reference to source and a quotative, thus not only representing a discursive excerpt as it has apparently been used, but also foregrounding it and drawing attention to it. Indirect quotation, by contrast, is



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defined as a reference to some prior speech/attitude-report which is presented and evaluated from the quoter’s perspective, as is reflected in deictic and temporal shifts as well as in the quoter’s interpretation of the source’s illocutionary force and communicative intention entextualised in the quotative. Mixed quotation and the mixed type of quotation are seen as hybrid forms of quotation, comprising constituents of direct and indirect speech, and are therefore also evaluative. The communicative function of quotation depends strongly on its source, the quoter and her/his attitude, and the local and global discursive context, into which the quotation is imported. A quotation always competes with the speaker’s own formulation of the quoted content and pragmatic force. When the speaker opts for the use of a quotation instead of her/his own formulation in a local discursive context, s/he must have good reasons for doing so. This holds for both self- and other-quotations. Quoting others assigns their original formulations the status of being quote-worthy for a particular communicative goal: this may consist of aligning with the quoted and/or source or of disaligning with the quoted and/or its source. In the former case, the quoted and/or source is considered to support the current communicative goal and thus is evaluated as relevant, and in the latter case, the quoted and/or its source is also considered to support the argumentation of the current speaker, but the supportive function is based on a negative evaluation of the source and her/his formulation of the quoted content and on a more or less explicitly realised positive evaluation of self. Self-quotation generally serves the function of demonstrating argumentative coherence and credibility, which goes hand in hand with implying positive self-evaluation. In discourse, the strategic use of quotation is adapted to the contextual constraints and requirements of the quoting discourse and of its embedding frame, the discourse genre with its genre-specific constraints and requirements. In the context of mediated political discourse, quotations are communicated not only to face-to-face addressees but also, if not primarily, to a mass audience. To facilitate felicitous communication and to support the validity and truthfulness of a quotation, metadata (i.e. the contextual and discursive coordinates of the quoted and source) are generally made explicit, e.g., temporal and local frames, party programmes, proper name or more indeterminate sources, and affiliation. The explication of these coordinates does not only serve as a means of identification. Rather, by making the identity of the source explicit, the quoter assigns it the status of being quote-worthy, and by making the verb of communication explicit and entextualising it in a quotative, the quoter implicates her/his evaluation of the speech/attitude-report, as is the case with, e.g., the more neutral verb ‘say’ and the more specific ‘blame’. Looked upon from an interdiscursive perspective, quotations may serve as soundbites in other discourses.

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The communicative act of quotation is a higher-level speech act (Oishi and Fetzer 2016) and may fulfil various functions in discourse. Generally, it is not only the content of a discursive excerpt which is meta-represented, but also its illocutionary force and communicative intention, as well as source and context in which the original excerpt has been embedded. The illocutionary force and communicative intention are captured by the quotative and further linguistic expressions denoting attitude, or tone of voice in spoken language, the source is named in a more or less explicit manner, and the context is indexed with respect to its temporal and local coordinates. Thus, what is quoted, who is quoted and where the quoted has been uttered is adapted to the contextual constraints and requirements of the quoting discourse, to the communicative goal of the quoter, and to the quoter-intended perlocutionary effects. Against this background, a quotation may display a higher degree of explicitness as regards content and force than its original representation. This is reflected in the quantity and quality of metadata, which refer to the original participation format and physical, temporal and discursive setting; the metadata contextualise them and adapt them to the contextual constraints and requirements of the quoting discourse. Furthermore, the fact that a discursive excerpt is quoted assigns that piece of discourse the status of being quote-worthy. In mediated political discourse, quotations and their metadata may also be employed to secure the discourse common ground between the media frame comprising the entire interaction to be mediated and its audience, and they may be used to challenge the argumentative coherence and credibility of a politician (and/or her/his party). In the data at hand, quotations from political opponents tend to have an adversarial function: they are used strategically to challenge and deconstruct the argumentation and credibility of the political opponent while at the same time supporting the argumentation of self and his/her party (cf. e.g., Antaki and Leudar 2001; Ilie 2003). It needs to be pointed out, however, that the communicative function of quotations from political opponents, in particular from members of the so-called political elite is highly context-dependent: one and the same quotation may be used both to reconstruct the credibility of self while at the same time deconstructing the credibility of a political opponent, and in a different context, the quotation may be used to deconstruct the credibility of self while reconstructing the credibility of other. The question to be addressed in the following sections is whether quotations from ordinary people have similar communicative functions.



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

3. Ordinary people and ordinariness Political discourse analysis differentiates between political discourse produced by the political elite and addressed to both the political elite and to ordinary people, and political discourse produced by grassroot politicians addressing ordinary people, but also the political elite. In discourse analysis, the linguistic representation of ordinary people has been examined with respect to their status as deliberately acting agents or non-deliberately acting patients, considering not only linguistic, but also multimodal contexts. Ordinariness has been addressed in ethnomethodological conversation analysis. Sacks (1984) investigates in On doing ‘being ordinary “how, in ordinary conversation, people, in reporting on some event report, report what we might see to be, not what happened, but the ordinariness of what happened” (Sacks 1984: 414). In ethnomethodological terms, ordinariness is something which is not attributed to social events and social agents per se, but rather something which participants do: “there is the job of being an ordinary person, and that job includes attending the world, yourself, others, objects, so as to see how it is that it is a usual scene” (Sacks 1984: 417). However, ordinary in ethnomethodological terms does not mean “average” or “non-exceptional”, that is “a non-exceptional person on some statistical basis” (Sacks 1984: 415) but rather “as something that is the way somebody constitutes oneself, and, in effect, a job that persons and the people around them may be coordinatively engaged in, to achieve that each of them, together, are ordinary persons” (Sacks 1984: 415). Doing ordinariness has been examined primarily with respect to presenting self and others as ordinary persons, while the metarepresentation of ordinary persons has not been investigated in depths. This analysis of quotations from ordinary people in the context of elite political discourse with the source of an elite politician promises further insights into discursive practices of doing ordinariness and will contribute to furthering our understanding about how ordinary people are brought into the discourse of elites and how they are brought about in the discourse of elites. From a socio-cognitive, context-anchored perspective which explicitly considers background assumptions and common ground, the interactional organisation of ordinariness is only possible if the participants’ background knowledge about how things are generally done “ordinarily” and how they are done “nonordinarily” is considered. This is related closely to the participants’ social status and entitlements to different kinds of experience, and to voicing those kinds of experience in discourse, as described by Sacks (1984: 424): “In part, I am saying that it is a fact that entitlement to experiences are differently available”. Quoting ordinary people in the contexts of PMQs by the PM or by the LO thus makes the experience of ordinary people relevant to elite political discourse, and it

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makes ordinary-life experience relevant to other ordinary people providing an opportunity to align – but also to disalign – with those kinds of experience thus constructing moments of ordinary-life experience and ordinary-life stories in a non-ordinary-life elite context. The discursive contextualisation of quoting ordinary people displays interesting patterns. The LO, Corbyn, presents them as first names, e.g. “Well, if the Prime Minister is keen on tax credits helping people into work, I’ve got a question for him from Lisette, who, quo- I quote, says: ‘A lot of people are setting up their own businesses as self-employed especially in rural areas where job vacancies are limited and pay is often low; tax credits help them until their business becomes established’” (PMQs 21 October 2015). Sometimes their linguistic representation is further specified by references to their role in society (“a veteran of the first Gulf war”), e.g., “And so I have a question from I have a I have a question from Kieran, a veteran of the first Gulf war. His family are set to lose out, and he writes: ‘It’s a worry to the family …There’s fear and trepidation about whether we’re gonna going to be able to get by’, and he asks: ‘Is that how this government treats veterans of the Armed Services Forces?’” (PMQs 04 November 2015). Ordinary people may also be brought into the discourse as generic representatives of a relevant group, such as nurses or teachers. In his response, the PM recycles referring expressions and addresses the ordinary person in his response mentioning their names, e.g., “What I would say to Angela, and all those working in mental health–and indeed all those suffering from mental health conditions–is that …” (PMQs 16 September 2015); the response is frequently formatted as a hypothetical quotation. Quotation has been defined as metarepresentation, making explicit not only the quoted, that is the discursive contribution or discursive excerpt, which has been said/written before, and its discursively contextualised illocutionary force and communicative intention, but also contextual coordinates, that is participation format and physical, temporal and discursive setting, which may have been implicit in the original production. The communicative function of a quotation depends on the quoted and its source, the quoter and her/his attitude towards source and quoted, its discursive context, and the contextual constraints and requirements of the quoting discourse: “Paper-based citations attempt to keep the reader within the article, while providing the address of where the source material resides for the highly motivated researcher, On the net, hyperlinks are less nails than invitations. (…). They beckon the reader out of the article” (Weinberger 2011: 113). That particular function of beckoning a reader out of an article, this chapter claims, also holds for mediated political discourse. However, unlike beckoning an addressees and audience out of a political discourse to obtain more information about a topic or participant, the strategic use of quotation, especially a quotation from an ordinary person, in mediated political discourse is adapted



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to its contextual constraints and requirements. Corbyn’s systematic use of quotations from ordinary people was novel in the context of PMQs, foregrounding their political issues and assigning them the status of an object of discourse in the media rather than scoring points at the expense of one another as has been the case with quotations from other sources. What is more, bringing in ordinary people and their ordinary-life experience into elite political discourse and following up on the brought in ordinary-life experience with a question to the PM thereby requesting him to account for his policies and their social implications not only to the House of Commons, but also to the mediated public and thus to ordinary people was something the House had not encountered before. 4. The representation of ordinary people and ordinary-life experience by non-ordinary politicians Parliamentary discourse in general and PMQs in particular have been described as elite political discourse in and through which MPs discuss elite political issues addressed to both a political elite as well as to ordinary citizens. MPs are protected by parliamentary privilege, which allows them to speak freely in the House of Commons without fear of legal action for slander; but they are also expected to observe certain traditions and conventions regarding what is termed “unparliamentary language”. The Speaker, who presides over House of Commons debates, may ask an MP to withdraw an objectionable utterance, or even name an MP, i.e., suspend her/him from the House for a specified period of time. PMQs contains quite a number of quotations, especially the question-and-answer sequences between the PM and the LO. While the use of quotation in political interviews is constrained by the overall leitmotif of neutralism (e.g., Greatbatch 1988), MPs can be as partial and as unashamedly partisan as they choose. Thus, opposition MPs can use difficult and challenging quotations, while government MPs can flatter the PM with toadying and obsequious quotations. The following analysis of the strategic use of quotations focuses on the exchanges between the PM and the LO and their quotations from ordinary people. 4.1 Method 4.1.1 Participants The participants in this study were David Cameron, Ed Miliband and Jeremy Corbyn.

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4.1.2 Apparatus Transcripts were downloaded from Hansard, the electronic record of parliamentary debates in the House of Commons. Hansard, it should be noted, is not a full verbatim record of parliamentary proceedings. It is intended to be “substantially the verbatim report, with repetitions and redundancies omitted and with obvious mistakes corrected, but which on the other hand leaves out nothing that adds to the meaning of the speech or illustrates the argument” (May 2004: 260). Hence, the Hansard transcripts were checked against delivery from video-recordings of PMQs available on YouTube and corrected by one of the authors and three research assistants (Anna Katharina Feige, MA; Daria Pominova, MA; and Daniel Gross, MEd) (http://www.parliament.uk/business/publications/hansard/). 4.1.3 Procedure An analysis was conducted of 20 sessions of PMQs (2012–2013), focussing specifically on question-response sequences between Miliband and Cameron, and of 20 sessions (2015–2016) (cf. appendix), focussing specifically on the question-response sequences between Corbyn and Cameron. In all 40 sessions, the six questions from Miliband and Corbyn were posed in one continuous bloc; thus, 240 question-response sequences were analysed in total. Quotations were identified according to the six categories listed and discussed in Section 2 above (direct, indirect, mixed, mixed type, and focusing), and inter-rated by one of the authors and three research assistants (Anna Katharina Feige, MA; Daria Pominova, MA; and Daniel Gross, MEd). The total number of words was counted for interchanges between the PM and LO for each of the 6 question-response exchanges of the 40 sessions of PMQs, as well as the number of words for each of the six subtypes of quotation.7 A qualitative analysis was also conducted of specific examples of the PMQs sessions giving particular attention to quotations from ordinary people and their uptake by the direct face-to-face interactants PM and LO. 4.2 Results In the Corbyn-Cameron data set, quotations make up 10% (N = 3,486) the total word count (N = 31,704) in the exchange between the PM and the LO, with 37% (N = 1,294) coming from ordinary people. In the Miliband-Cameron data set, quotations make up 9% (N = 2,608) of the total word count (N = 28,304) in the exchange between the PM and LO, with 0.2% (N = 32) coming from ordinary people. 7.  The word count for quotations comprises only the actual number of quoted words. Quotative, quoter, source and contextual coordinates which were not part of the quoted were excluded from the word count.



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

The formatting of the quotations used in the two data sets is systematised in Table 1: Table 1.  Formatting of quotations in the Corbyn-Cameron, and Miliband-Cameron exchanges Direct quotation

Corbyn

Cameron

Miliband

Cameron

52%

27%

29%

37%

Focussing quotation

12%

13%

23%

25%

Indirect quotation

17%

23%

17%

18%

Mixed quotation

13%

0%

26%

5%

Mixed type of quotation

5%

1%

2%

2%

Hypothetical quotation

1%

36%

0%

8%

Direct quotation is the most frequently used format for both Corbyn and Miliband in both sets of data. This is not the case with the PM, whose preferred format is direct quotation in the Miliband-Cameron data set, and hypothetical quotation in the Corbyn-Cameron data set. The preference for hypothetical quotation is due to Corbyn’s frequent use of quotations from ordinary people and his request to the PM to respond to the quotations, which requires the response to be formatted as a hypothetical quotation, because the response can only be performed in a hypothetical context. This particularised use of hypothetical quotation also explains the infrequent use of this format by the LO. Focussing quotations and indirect quotations are frequent for both PM and LO, while mixed quotation seems to be more of a format for the opposition. This may be because in argumentative sequences, parts of the opponent’s argument tend to be recycled to challenge her / him. The mixed type of quotation is neither very frequent with the PM nor with the LO. Quotations from non-ordinary people utilise all formats, while quotations from ordinary people use only particular formats, as is systematised in Table 2: Table 2.  Quotations from ordinary people in the Corbyn-Cameron, and MilibandCameron exchanges Quotations from ordinary people and their formatting Direct quotation

Corbyn

Cameron

Miliband

Cameron

37%

0%

0%

0%

Focussing quotation

8%

0%

0.08%

0.15%

Indirect quotation

3%

0%

0%

0%

Mixed quotation

6%

0%

0%

0%

Mixed type of quotation

0%

0%

0%

0%

Hypothetical quotation

0%

0%

0%

0%

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In the Corbyn-Cameron set, quotations with the source of ordinary persons are only used by the LO and are formatted as direct quotation (37%), focussing quotation (8%), indirect quotation (3%) and mixed quotation (6%); in the MilibandCameron set, they are used once by the PM and once by the LO, both formatted as focussing quotation. The constraints on the formatting of quotations from ordinary people may be due to their communicative function. Quotations from ordinary people are brought into the discourse and both source and quoted are foregrounded and assigned the status of immediately relevant to the here-and-now of the interaction; this communicative function can be achieved with both direct quotations, which are the most frequent ones, and focussing quotations which come in second in the Corbyn-Cameron set and first in the Miliband-Cameron set. Indirect quotations have generally been used in order to request the communication partner to provide a full response to source and quoted, and mixed quotations have been used in follow-up challenges, foregrounding issues which have not been addressed appropriately. Hypothetical quotations have been used in contexts where a hypothetical state of affairs is negotiated, and this cannot be achieved with quotations from ordinary people in the elite discourse of PMQs. This also holds for the mixed type of quotation, which generally feeds on expert sources. In the following, the results obtained are discussed more thoroughly giving particular attention to their contextual embeddedness and perlocutionary effects, and to the question of how they are followed up in the discourse. 4.3 Discussion The analysis of quotations in the context of PMQs has been focussed on the following formats: (1) direct quotation, (2) focussing quotation, (3) indirect quotation, (4) mixed quotation, (5) mixed type of quotation, and (6) hypothetical quotation; scare quotation has been disregarded in the analysis as this kind of quotation can be subsumed under mixed quotation. All of the six formats are furnished with metadata in the exchanges under investigation, in particular source, while their contextual embeddedness may remain vague if the source of the quotation is the direct addressee of the quoter, as is the case in the following excerpt.8 In Excerpt  (1), the LO asks a follow-up question acknowledging the PM’s response but at the same time challenging it with a quotation from the direct addressee, the PM. The quotation is formatted as an indirect quotation, which 8.  Quotations are formatted as follows: Quoter is printed in bold-italics; source is printed in bold; quotative is printed bold-underlined; quoted is underlined; Quoter-intended perlocutionary goals and effects are printed in small caps; and relevant contextual cues are printed in italics.



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signifies subjectivity on the one hand, and remoteness on the other, and it fulfils the communicative function of challenging the credibility of the PM and the validity of his argument, while at the same time intending to deconstruct the opponent’s argumentation with the follow-up request ‘tell us how that policy is panning out’: Excerpt 1 LO I am very pleased that the Prime Minister wants to help deliver decent housing for Rosie. She lives and works in London, and as the Prime Minister knows, London is very, very expensive. He talks about people getting on the housing ladder, but the reality is that home ownership has fallen under his Government by 200,000 – it actually rose by 1 million under the last Labour Government. His record is one, actually, of some years of failure on housing. He said that council homes sold under the right to buy would be replaced like for like. can the prime minister tell us how that policy is panning out?  (PMQs 10 February 2016) If the quoter’s source is not the direct communication partner, but rather a different addressee or target, e.g. ally, opponent, expert or ordinary person, the quoter usually provides more metadata, as is the case in the following excerpt, in which the PM quotes Sir Alex Allan using a focussing quotation which is furnished with relevant contextual information (“I’ll obviously put a copy of both letters in the Library of the House”). The metadata are used to support the validity – and truthfulness – of the quoted content. As in extract (1), the quotation is used to challenge the credibility and argumentative coherence of the political opponent, with the focussing quotation foregrounding both source (“Sir Alex Allan”) and quoted, and it co-occurs with another direct quotation and indirect quotation following up on the focussing quotation: Excerpt 2 PM And Sir Alex Allan has replied to my letter. And I’ll obviously put a copy of both letters in the Library of the House, but the House might want to know what Sir Alex Allan [the Prime Minister’s Independent advisor on ministerial standards] said in reply to my letter. He said this: “I note your decision in relation to Jeremy Hunt’s adherence to the Ministerial Code which is of course a matter for you”. He goes on: “The fact that there is an on-going judicial inquiry probing and taking evidence under oath means that I do not believe I could usefully add to the facts in this case.” Now he goes on to say that he remains available if circumstances should change, but those are the views of (PMQs 13 June 2012) sir alex allan. In the context of PMQs, the quoter-intended perlocutionary effects and social implications of quotations are generally spelled out rather directly, elaborating on the

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quotation’s communicative function and explicating implicata of conversational implicatures, formatting them as – almost – unmitigated requests to respond to that request for information and account for its validity, appropriateness and social implications; the quoter-intended perlocutionary effects may also be formulated in a more general manner, that is as comments about the social impacts of the quoted thereby assigning not only the quotation and the expected response of the addressee the status of an object of talk, but also their social implications. The distribution of quotations from ordinary people is very different in the two data sets. In the Miliband-Cameron set there are only two quotations from ordinary people, one from the PM and the other from the LO. Excerpt 3 contains a quotation from the direct addressee, the PM, furnished with temporal coordinates and original addressees, formatted as a mixed quotation, that is quoted content embedded in a direct quotation which is followed-up with the LO’s making explicit his intended perlocutionary effects. The discursively contextualised quotation paves the way for a quotation from ordinary people with the source represented by a generalised set of ordinary persons referred to with the generic noun “people”. As with the quotation from non-ordinary people, the LO’s intended perlocutionary goals and social implications are described aligning the Conservative Party with the financial sector. Unlike quotations from ordinary people in the second set of data, the PM does not follow up on the quotation but rather intends to score points on behalf of the political opponent, the Labour Party: Excerpt 3 LO Mr Speaker, Mr Speaker, if he wants a history lesson, this is what he told the City of London on 28th of March 2008: “As a free-marketeer by conviction, it will not surprise you to hear me say that the problem of the past decade is too much regulation. [Interruption.] Doesn’t this say it all about the double standards of this Prime Minister? And whenever these scandals happen, he is slow to act and he stands up for the wrong people. The question people are asking is, “Who will act in the national interest, rather than the party interest?” his is a party bankrolled by the banks. if he fails to order a judge-led inquiry, people will come to one conclusion: he simply can’t act in the national interest. PM I have to say, Mr Speaker, everybody can see what is happening here. [Interruption.] The party opposite want to talk about absolutely everything apart from their record of 13 years in government. I have to say, Mr Speaker, we may have found the Higgs boson particle, (PMQs 04 July 2012) Labour haven’t found a sense of shame. In Excerpt  4, it is the PM who quotes an ordinary person in his contribution, referring to the ordinary person with the generalised noun of pensioners. The



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

ordinary-person quotation also occurs with another quotation, this time a quotation from the direct addressee, the LO, which is formatted as a focussing quotation and furnished with temporal coordinates (‘just now’). The quotation from ordinary people is a follow-up to the opponent’s argumentation, providing counterevidence to his claims, and referring to a habit of the LO’s “reading out letters from his constituents”. As has been the case with all of the quotations analysed, the quoter-intended perlocutionary effects and their social implications are made explicit; as in (3), the direct political opponent does not follow up on the quotation from an ordinary person but continues with his verbal attacks on the PM: Excerpt 4 PM Well, well first of all, the whole House, and the whole country, will note no apology for the mess left by the party opposite. But let me tell him – let me tell him on the on the spare room subsidy his figures are completely wrong. First of all, the last thing he just said before he sat down is that we are cutting the money going to disabled people. that is simply not the case. In 2009–10 the money spent on disability living allowance was £12.4 billion. By 2015 it will be £13.3 billion. There is no cut in the money going to the disabled. This Government is protecting that money, in spite of the mess that he made. Now, on the spare room subsidy, pensioners are exempt, people with disabled children are exempt, anyone who needs help around the clock is also exempt. And as he is fond of reading out letters from his constituents, let me read out one I got on this issue from a pensioner who said this: “We are expected to find up to an extra £60 a month out of our pensions for having extra bedrooms.”well of course, they’re not, they’re pensioners, they’re exempt, but they’ve been terrified by his completely irresponsible campaign. LO I think, I think, I think what that means, I think what that means is there was nothing in the briefing on the question I asked. Let me, let me just make it clear, because he obviously doesn’t understand it …  (PMQs 06 March 2013) The following Excerpts (5) to (9) are quotations from ordinary people from the Corbyn-Cameron data set; they are formatted as direct quotation (Excerpts 5 and 6), indirect quotation (Excerpt  7), focussing quotation (Excerpt  8), and mixed quotation (Excerpt 9). Excerpt 5 contains a direct quotation from an ordinary person, who is contextualised as one out of “2,000 people” with “a question to the Prime Minister on tax credits” and singled out as “Kelly”. The quoted is presented in plain language with the PM represented as a personification of his government. The quoter-intended perlocutionary effect and intended uptake by the PM is also presented in plain

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language and – because of the wh-question (“how much”) – carries the presupposition that Kelly will be worse off next year: Excerpt 5 LO I want to ask the Prime Minister a question about tax credits. I have had 2,000 people email me in the last three days offering a question to the Prime Minister on tax credits. I will choose just one. Kelly writes: “I’m a single mum to a disabled child, I work 40.5 hours each week in a job that I trained for, I get paid £7.20 per hour! So in April the Prime Minister is not putting my wage up but will be taking tax credits off me!” so my question is: can the prime minister tell us how much worse off kelly will be next year? PM First, let me welcome what the hon. Gentleman has said and join him in what he said about (…) Let me answer him directly on the question of tax credits. What we are doing is bringing in the national living wage, which will be a £20 a week pay rise for people next year. Obviously, Kelly will benefit as that national living wage rises to £9 – [Interruption.] Sorry, what happened to the new approach? I thought questions were going to be asked so that they could be responded to. Right, so there is the introduction of the national living wage, which will reach £9 by the end of the Parliament. This will benefit Kelly. In April next year, we will raise to £11,000 the amount that you can earn before you start paying taxes. If Kelly has children, she will benefit from the 30 hours of childcare that we are bringing in. I do not know all Kelly’s circumstances, but in addition, if she is a council house or housing association tenant, we are cutting her rent. All those things are important, as is the increase in employment and the increase in wages (PMQs 14 October 2015) taking place today. With the direct quotation, the LO brings in an ordinary person referred to as Kelly and contextualised as an email writer to the LO, and makes her and her ordinarylife experience of being a single parent an object of talk. This is acknowledged by the PM, who refers to her and her ordinary-life experience, expanding on it by addressing further contextual parameters (increases in the national living wage; childcare; council house tenants) echoing the LO’s plain discursive style. Excerpt 6 is from the same session of PMQs as excerpt 5; it contains another direct quotation from an ordinary person with the PM’s response to the ordinary person formatted as an indirect quotation: The response to the LO on the question asked on behalf of the ordinary person is not a metarepresentation but just representational use:



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

Excerpt 6 LO The reality is that 3 million low and middle-income families will be worse off as a result of the tax credit changes. (…) I have had 3,500 questions on housing in the past few days. I have a question from Matthew. [Interruption.] This might be funny to some Members, but it is not funny to Matthew or to many others. Matthew says: “I live in a private rented house in London with three other people. Despite earning a salary well over the median wage, buying even the cheapest of properties will be well beyond my reach for years.” does the prime minister really believe that £450,000 is an affordable price for a new home for someone on an average income to try to aspire to? PM The hon. Gentleman is absolutely right to raise the issue of housing, particularly the affordability of housing in London. I say to Matthew that we are doing everything we can to get councils to build more houses, particularly affordable houses that he can buy. The hon. Gentleman quotes the figure of £450,000, but what we are saying is that that should be the upper limit for a starter home in London. We want to see starter homes in London built at £150,000 and £200,000, so that people like Matthew can stop renting and start buying. What have we done for people like Matthew? We have introduced Help to Buy, so for the first time we are helping people to get their deposit together so that they can buy a new home. We are also giving people like Matthew the right to buy their housing association home. [Interruption.] (…). I say to the hon. Gentleman: let us work together and get London building to get prices down so that people like Matthew can afford to buy a home (PMQs 14 October 2015) of their own. The LO’s use of quotations from ordinary people displays very similar patterns: the source is identified with a first name – as in (5), (7) and (8) – and discursively contextualised with their ordinary-life experience  – single parents and national wage in (5), working for a housing association in (7) – and the quoted is followed up by the LO in making explicit his intended perlocutionary effect and its social implication as well as his intended uptake from the PM to the question asked on behalf of the ordinary person, thus making the PM not only accountable for his political actions, but also making him accountable to the House, fellow MPs, and the electorate represented by the media audience. The ordinary-life experience quoted implicates that ordinary people cannot afford to buy their own homes in London. The PM’s response is different to the one given in (5). He does not only align with the LO (“The hon. Gentleman is absolutely right”), but also addresses the ordinary person directly with his name within an indirectly formatted

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quotation. This response is followed up with a recontextualisation of the LO’s prior claim (“figure of £450,000”) with a focussing collective self-quotation with the LO’s figure recontextualised as “the upper limit for a starter home in London”. The argument is substantiated with further claims and further references to the ordinary person and other ordinary people in that position (“people like Matthew”) and their ordinary-life experience. What is different to the response provided in (5) is the dual responsive format with the PM addressing not only the ordinary person Matthew, but also the LO, proposing joint political action. In Excerpt 7 the LO uses an indirect quotation from an ordinary person, who is discursively contextualised with his professional affiliation. Excerpt 7 LO I thank the Prime Minister for that answer (…) The effects of Government policy on housing are obviously enormous, and the decision to cut, for example, 1% of the rent levels in councils and in housing associations without thinking about the funding issues that those authorities face is a serious one. I have a question from Steven, who works for a housing association. He says that the cut in rents will mean that the company that he works for will lose 150 jobs by next March because of the loss of funding for that housing association to carry on with its repairs. down the line, that will mean worse conditions, worse maintenance, fewer people working there, and a greater problem for people living in those properties. does the prime minister not think it is time to reconsider the question of the funding of the administration of housing, as well as, of course, the massive gap of 100,000 units a year between what is needed and what is being built? PM What I would say to Steven, and to all those who are working in housing associations and doing a good job, is that for years in our country there was something of a merry-go-round. Rents went up, housing benefit went up, and so taxes had to go up to pay for that. I think it was right in the Budget to cut the rents that social tenants pay, not least because people who are working and not on housing benefit will see a further increase in their take-home pay, and will be able to (PMQs 16 September 2015) afford more things in life. Again, the LO brings in an ordinary person and their ordinary-life experience through a quotation. The quoted of the indirect quotation is taken up by the LO, who formulates its social implications in a very direct and explicit manner. Building onto Steven and his experience, thereby aligning with him and other ordinary people in similar circumstances, the LO requests the PM to reconsider the government’s position on housing. The question to the PM is formulated as



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

a negated interrogative (“Does the Prime Minister not think it is time to reconsider”), expressing the presupposition that it is – actually – time to reconsider the issue. This is refuted by the PM in his response not only to the ordinary person Steven and all those in similar circumstances. The refutation is formatted as a hypothetical quotation, which may weaken the strong force of the refusal to comply. In Excerpt 8, the ordinary person and her ordinary-life experience is brought into the discourse with a focussing quotation, which follows up on a quotation from an expert source in which the number of ordinary people eligible for benefits is specified. The quotations are linked with the argumentative marker so signalling a resultative kind of connectedness. While quoting Claire, the quoter provides extra contextual information about the family of the ordinary person and her husband: five children9: Excerpt 8 LO The Institute for Fiscal Studies says there are 8 million people in paid work eligible for benefits or tax credits. They are on average being compensated for just 26% of their losses by the so-called national living wage that the Government have introduced. So I ask a question from Claire, who says this: “How is changing the thresholds of entitlement for tax credits going to help hard-working people or families? I work part-time; my husband works full-time earning £25,000”– they have five children – “This decrease in tax credits will see our income plummet.” they ask a simple question: how is this fair? PM The country has to live within its means and we were left an unaffordable welfare system and a system where work did not pay. We see today the latest set of employment statistics where the rate of employment in our country has yet again reached a record high–more people in work, more people in full-time work–and we are also seeing unemployment fall in every region of the country except the southeast, and the sharpest falls are in the north-west, the north-east and (PMQs 16 September 2015) the west midlands … The social implications and consequences of the Government regulation for ordinary families is described by Claire in plain words, and the LO asks a simple question on their behalf, thereby expressing solidarity with all ordinary people who will need to suffer the unfair consequences. This quotation from an ordinary person is ignored by the PM, who instead provides a very general account of governmental policies.

9.  A thorough analysis and discussion about how the size of Claire’s family is followed up in the social-media Channel 4 News on YouTube is provided by Fetzer and Weizman (2018).

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The mixed quotation from an ordinary person in Excerpt  9 is also not followed up by the PM, who responds with a generalised account of his government’s policies: Excerpt 9 LO If the Prime Minister cannot answer now on tax credits and the devastation that is causing–[Interruption.] (…) I have got a question from a maintenance fitter at the Tata steelworks in Scunthorpe. He is helping to produce steel for Network Rail and many companies that were exporting it. He wants to know what the Prime Minister is going to do “to support the steel industry and its workers facing redundancy.”is it not time to walk the walk rather than talk the talk about an industrial strategy? PM We do want to help our steel industry, and we recognise– [Interruption.] Well, I will set out exactly how we will help the steel industry. It is in a very difficult situation …. (PMQs 21 October 2015) The LO brings in an ordinary person and his ordinary-life experience as a maintenance fitter. The ordinary person is represented as a representative of the generalised set of maintenance fitters but is further specified by local and affiliative coordinates. As has been the case with all other quotations from ordinary people, the quoter builds his argument on the ordinary-life experience and ordinary-life concerns of the sources, thereby aligning with them and at the same time requesting the PM to account for his political actions not only to him and the House of Commons but also to the mediated audience informing them about how his government may contribute to improving the lives of ordinary people. Quotations are very frequent in PMQs, especially in the contexts of PM meets the LO, and they occur with metadata. Mentioning the source is obligatory while the quality and quantity of references to physical, temporal and discursive coordinates varies. As has been the case with the analysis of quotations in other types of political discourse (Fetzer 2015; Fetzer and Reber 2015), their formatting as direct, focussing, indirect, mixed or mixed type of quotation does not seem to have a direct impact on their communicative function. Quotations are used strategically to challenge the opponent, they are used to align with political positions and ideologies and they are used to construct, deconstruct and reconstruct political selves and their ideologies. What is different to their use in ordinary discourse is that the quoter-intended perlocutionary effects and their social implications are frequently made explicit, assigned the status of an object of talk and elaborated on. Furthermore, relevant technical terms of the quoted are frequently translated into a more informal style and related to ordinary-life experience. Thus, politicians do not leave it to the addressees and audiences to infer the speaker-intended perlocutionary effects and their social implications, but they want to secure the



Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions

uptake of speaker-intended meaning and speaker-intended perlocutionary effects. This may be due to the mediated status of PMQs and to the intended addressee: the audience, or rather the potential electorate. The communicative act of quotation metarepresents another communicative act by representing the communicative act in another context and adapting it accordingly. It thus imports context into a (different) discourse and does not only assign it the status of an object of talk, but also indicates that the quotation is relevant to a particular communicative goal at that particular stage in discourse. It may be its content, which is considered to be ‘quotable’ (Clayman 1995), or it may be its source, with which a quoter intends to align or disalign. However, there is more to the communicative act of quoting than the importation of discursive content. Quotations also fulfil an important interpersonal function by relating quoter, quoted and source with other participants of a communicative exchange, for instance direct addressees, readers or media audiences, and they relate discourses and contribute to the construal of local coherence, global coherence and interdiscursitivity. The relational nature of quotation holds for all types of quotation, irrespective of their formatting as direct, focussing, indirect, mixed, mixed type or hypothetical, irrespective of their source. 5. Conclusion This chapter has analysed the formatting and discursive function of quotation in the context of PMQs, the central British parliamentary institution, focussing on the strategic use of quotations from ordinary people in elite political discourse. Quotations have been defined as kind of metarepresentation, to use relevancetheoretic terminology, or in speech-act-theoretic terms, as a higher-level speech act. Based on the definitions of quotations in descriptive grammar and their refinement in pragmatics and discourse analysis, quotations have been classified as six types: direct quotation, indirect quotation, focussing quotation, hypothetical quotation, mixed quotation and mixed type of quotation. Irrespective of their linguistic formatting, however, quotations seem to fulfil the discursive function of pragmatic intensification. By importing linguistic and sociocultural context into a discourse, quotations and all of their constitutive parts are assigned the status of quote-worthiness. This holds for both their antagonistic and their supporting use. While linguistic formatting seems to have a less decisive impact on their discursive function, it is their source, which is more crucial to the quoter’s communicative goal. Self-quotation generally serves the function of demonstrating argumentative coherence and credibility of the quoter, which goes hand in hand with implying

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a positive self-evaluation and a negative other-evaluation. Quoting others assigns their original formulations the status of being quote-worthy for a particular communicative goal: this may consist of aligning with the quoted and/or source or of disaligning with the quoted and/or its source. The focus of analysis has been on the strategic use of quotations from ordinary people in interchanges between PM and LO. In the sequences analysed, quotations make up 9% of the total word count in the 2012–2013 set and 10% in the 2015–2016 set. However, while only 2% of the quotations are sourced by ordinary people in the 2012–2013 interchanges, a full 31% are from ordinary people in the 2015–2016 interchanges. In the context of PMQs, the LO’s systematic use of quotations from ordinary people and taking up their ordinary-life experience as a constitutive part of his argument and his question to the PM was novel. Not only did he bring in ordinary-life experience and ordinary-life stories into the elite discourse of PMQs, foregrounding their real-life issues, contextualising them in their presentation and recontextualising them in their metarepresentation. The LO also assigned them the status of an object of discourse in the mediated exchanges in order to make the PM has his government account for their political decisions, actions and nonaction, and to make the PM and government account for their policies to ordinary people. So, the brought-in ordinary-life experience was assigned an informationbased argumentative function rather than merely scoring points at the expense of political opponents, as has been the case with quotations from other sources. Quotations from ordinary people do not only metarepresent their reallife concerns, but also have an impact on the genre conventions of PMQs. The multilayeredness and dynamics of political discourse in the media allows for the bringing in of plain language, as has been the case with the formulation of the quoted and its contextualisation, and with the PM’s following-up in the PM’s plainly formulated response. What is more, the multilayeredness of participation with both ordinary non-elite citizens and elite MPs being accounted to, is also reflected in the recipient design of the PM’s response to the quotation from an ordinary citizen, which has displayed a dual orientation: one response formulated as hypothetical or indirect quotation addressed to the – named – ordinary persons, and another response directed at the – addressed – political opponent. The use of quotations from ordinary people and the mention of their ordinary-life experience by an elite politician in the elite context of PMQs, the contextualisation of their questions to the PM as part of an argument put forward by an elite politician, and his request to follow-up on brought-in ordinariness did not only make the PM and his government accountable for their political actions and their social implications and consequences to the political elite, the House of Commons, but – at least at face value – also to the mediated audience: the electorate and thus ordinary people.

Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions 99



Acknowledgement We are deeply grateful to our reviewers for their very helpful comments on the first version of this chapter.

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Clayman, Steven. 1995. “Defining Moments, Presidential Debates, and the Dynamics of Quotability.” Journal of Communication 45(3): 118–146. ​ https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1460-2466.1995.tb00746.x

Fetzer, Anita. 2013. “The Multilayered and Multifaceted Nature of Political Discourse.” The Pragmatics of Political Discourse. Explorations across Cultures, ed. by Anita Fetzer, 1–18. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.228.01fet Fetzer, Anita. 2015. “‘When you came into office you said that your government would be different’: Forms and Functions of Quotations in Mediated Political Discourse.” In The Dynamics of Political Discourse: Forms and Functions of Follow-Ups, ed. by Anita Fetzer, Elda Weizman and Lawrence N. Berlin, 245–273. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.259.10fet

Fetzer, Anita and Elisabeth Reber. 2015. “Quoting in Political Discourse: Professional Talk Meets Ordinary Postings. In The Pragmatics of Quoting Now and Then, ed. by Jenny Arendholz, Wolfram Bublitz and Monika Kirner-Ludwig, 97–124. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. ​ https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110427561-006

Fetzer, Anita and Elda Weizman. 2018. “‘What I would say to John and everyone like John is …’: The Construction of Ordinariness Through Quotations in Mediated Political Discourse.” Discourse & Society 29(5): 1–19. Greatbatch, David 1988. “A Turn-Taking System for British News Interviews.” Language in Society 17: 401–430.  ​https://doi.org/10.1017/S0047404500012963 Grice, Herbert Paul. 1975. “Logic and Conversation.” In Syntax and Semantics, ed. by Peter Cole and Jerry L. Morgan, 41–58. New York: Academic Press. Gumperz, John J. 1992. “Contextualization and Understanding.” In Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, ed. by Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin, 229–252. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

100 Anita Fetzer and Peter Bull Ilie, Cornelia. 2003. “Discourse and Metadiscourse in Parliamentary Debates.” Journal of Language and Politics 2(1): 71–92.  ​https://doi.org/10.1075/jlp.2.1.05ili May, Thomas Erskine. 2004. Parliamentary Practice. London: LexisNexis. Oishi, Etsuko and Anita Fetzer. 2016. “Expositives in Discourse.” Journal of Pragmatics 96: 49–59.  ​https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2016.03.005 Sacks, Harvey. 1984. “On Doing ‘Being Ordinary’”. In Structures of Social Action, ed. by Max Atkinson and John Heritage, 413–429. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schäffner, Christina and Susan Bassnett (eds.). 2010. Political Discourse, Media and Translation. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing Searle, John R. 1969. Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ​ https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139173438

Searle, John R. 1995. The Construction of Social Reality. New York: The Free Press. Van Dijk, Teun. 1993. Elite Discourse and Racism. London: Sage. ​ https://doi.org/10.4135/9781483326184

Weinberger, David. 2011. Too Big to Know: Rethinking Knowledge Now that the Facts aren’t the Facts, Experts are Everywhere, and the Smartest person in the Room is the Room. New York: Basic Books. Weizman, Elda and Anita Fetzer (eds.). 2015. Follow-Ups in Political Discourse: Explorations across Contexts and Discourse Domains. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. ​ https://doi.org/10.1075/dapsac.60

Weizman, Elda. 2011. “Conveying Indirect Reservations Through Discursive Redundancy.” Language Sciences 33(2): 295–304.  ​https://doi.org/10.1016/j.langsci.2010.10.006 Wodak, Ruth. 2011. The Discourse of Politics in Action: Politics as Usual. Palgrave Macmillan: Basingstoke.

Appendix Prime Minister’s Questions (David Cameron and Jeremy Corbyn) Cameron

Corbyn

Word Count (total)

Quotations (total)

September 16, 2015

  1219

  1076

  2295

   379

October 14, 2015

  1108

  1086

  2194

   209

October 21, 2015

   802

   676

  1478

   187

October 28, 2015

   718

   821

  1539

   208

November 4, 2015

  1048

   703

  1751

   125

November 18, 2015

   970

   662

  1632

   178

November 25, 2015

   651

   579

  1230

   87

December 16, 2015

   766

   630

  1396

   218

January 6, 2016

   986

   683

  1669

   127

January 13, 2016

   714

   555

  1269

   283

January 20, 2016

   762

   676

  1438

   227

Quoting ordinary people in Prime Minister’s Questions 101



Prime Minister’s Questions (David Cameron and Jeremy Corbyn) Cameron

Corbyn

Word Count (total)

Quotations (total)

January 27, 2016

   860

   635

  1495

   127

February 3, 2016

  1082

   712

  1794

   132

February 10, 2016

   931

   927

  1858

   117

February 24, 2016

   964

   718

  1682

   185

March 2, 2016

   897

   514

  1411

   184

March 9, 2016

   881

   619

  1500

   120

March 16, 2016

   619

   407

  1026

    93

April 13, 2016

  1011

   731

  1742

   136

April 20, 2016

   731

   574

  1305

   164

Σ

17720

13984

31704

  3486

Cameron

Miliband

Word count (total)

Quotations (total)

May 21, 2012

   987

   677

  1664

   209

April 18, 2012

   706

   830

  1536

    37

April 25, 2012

   886

   751

  1637

   135

May 16, 2012

  1055

   765

  1820

   161

May 23, 2012

   519

   512

  1031

    84

June 13, 2012

   969

   679

  1648

   274

June 27, 2012

   483

   623

  1106

    56

July 4, 2012

   892

   747

  1639

   229

July 11, 2012

   586

   611

  1197

    66

September 5, 2012

   691

   837

  1528

   100

February 27, 2013

   727

   642

  1369

   291

March 6, 2013

   767

   768

  1535

   115

March 13, 2013

   762

   578

  1340

   134

April 24, 2013

   689

   665

  1354

     3

June 5, 2013

   874

   595

  1469

   230

June 12, 2013

   909

   698

  1607

   133

June 19, 2013

   614

   615

  1229

   129

June 26, 2013

   582

   525

  1107

   136

July 3, 2013

   650

   577

  1227

    41

October 10, 2013

   666

   595

  1261

    45

Σ

15014

13290

28304

  2608

“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” Different readings of ordinariness in a politician’s Facebook post as a case in point Pnina Shukrun-Nagar

Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Israel

The chapter examines readers’ comments on a Facebook post in which the Israeli politician Yair Lapid positions himself as an ordinary person. Based on Sacks (1984), it is argued that such positioning is characterized by themes, perspectives, and communicative patterns typical of ordinary people, rather than political-public authorities. An examination of 141 relevant readers’ comments shows that, in Bakhtin’s terms, there are three main readings of such ordinary voice: A single-voiced reading, which views the ordinary voice as legitimate, authentic, and independent; a double-voiced reading, which views the ordinary voice as authentic and legitimate, but as partial; and a polyphonic reading, which views the ordinary voice as fictitious, illegitimate, and designated to promote a political agenda. The paper discusses the communicative patterns of each category in comparison to those of the original post, and examines the effect of these patterns on the positioning of both Lapid and his readers. Keywords: ordinariness, positioning, reader’s-comments, Facebook posts, politicians, polyphony, Bakhtin

1. Introduction Sacks, in his “On Doing ‘Being Ordinary’ ” (Sacks 1984), argues that the “ordinary person” should not be understood “as this or that person, or as some average; that is, as a non-exceptional person on some statistical basis, but as something that is the way somebody constitutes oneself ” (ibid.: 415). He posits that “the job of being an ordinary person […] includes attending the world, yourself, others, objects, so as to see how it is that it is a usual scene” (ibid.: 417). https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.05shu © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

104 Pnina Shukrun-Nagar

In this chapter, I address readers’ comments on the self-positioning of a politician as an ordinary person on his Facebook page. The concept of “positioning” was developed by Davies and Harré (1990) as an alternative to the sociological concept “role” (Goffman 1974). Goffman pointed out that a person plays many different roles in different situations (e.g., at home vs. at work), each of which evokes a different set of expectations and involves certain norms of behavior. While role is perceived as static, positioning is perceived as a dynamic process in which a person places himself/herself or another interlocutor in relation to other interlocutors. It is carried out in accordance with the roles fulfilled by these interlocutors, and at the same time serves to construct these roles. It can present them symmetrically or asymmetrically in terms of power, dominance, authority, self-confidence, and more (Harré and Gillett 1994; Harré and van Langenhove 1999; Weizman 2008). Interlocutors may be positioned as having rights and obligations either at the social level or at the discursive level due to their relevant social or interactional roles (Weizman 2008: 15, 26–31). The act of positioning itself may take place at varying degrees of implicitness, from terms of address and references through characterization to conversational implicatures (Grice 1975), including irony (Weizman 2008). The relativity feature of positioning has two faces – interactivity and reflexivity. A person who positions himself/herself relatively to another person at the same time interactively positions this person relatively to himself/herself, and a person who positions another person relatively to himself/herself reflexively positions himself/herself relatively to this person. In both cases, the pragmatic meaning of the positioning is determined in accordance with the context of the discourse (Davies and Harré 1990; Harré and van Langenhove 1999). Notably, when one of the interlocutors does not accept a “first order” positioning carried out by another interlocutor, he/she may negotiate it through metatextual comments that aim to lead to a different, “second order” positioning (Harré and van Langenhove 1999: 20–21). This chapter focuses on a case study in which the Israeli politician Yair Lapid positions himself as an ordinary person in a post on his Facebook page. It will be shown that the interpretations of this post are influenced by readers’ expectations regarding both the politician and the conventions of politicians posting on facebook. In order to examine the diverse interpretations, the communicative patterns of 141 readers’ comments are analyzed here. The main argument of the chapter, inspired by the theory of dialogism (Bakhtin 1981, 1986), is that readings of three main types are reflected in readers’ comments on the post: single-voiced readings, in which the ordinary voice of the politician is seen as authentic, legitimate, and independent; double-voiced readings, in which it is viewed as authentic and legitimate, but also as partial; and polyphonic readings,



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 105

in which it is perceived as fictitious, illegitimate, and promoting a political agenda. Examples of these three types of readings are presented, and the unique communicative patterns of each are analyzed, as well as their effect on the positioning of both Lapid and his readers. 2. Self-positioning as an ordinary person in politicians’ Facebook posts Self-positioning as an ordinary person appears to be prevalent in the Facebook posts of Israeli politicians from the entire political spectrum, and is therefore considered here as a constitutive part of this discourse type.1 It fits well with the nature of politicians’ Facebook posts  – a relatively young online practice that enables politicians to approach the public directly, share their ideas and plans with them on a regular basis, and receive comments from them. Scholars have noted that this new type of communication blurs the traditional boundaries between public and private and official and unofficial and raises the expectation that politicians will include more personal content and styles in their writing, and demonstrate friendliness, sensitivity, wit, lightness, and humor2 (Johnson and Perlmutter 2010; Kopytowska 2013: 382; Kruikemeier 2014: 131; Lehti 2011; Nilsson 2012: 254; Trammell et  al. 2006: 31, 43; Yonghwan 2011: 973–976). The self-positioning of politicians as ordinary people seems to be part of politicians’ attempt to fulfill these expectations. Israeli culture may also encourage the self-positioning of politicians as ordinary (simple, not authoritative people), because Israelis generally value the traits of authenticity, informality, simplicity, and solidarity (Katriel 1986, 1999, Chapter 11).3 Moreover, usually dozens to hundreds of Israelis react to politicians’ posts, especially in response to controversial politicians and content. Most of the commenters use everyday language (i.e., informal, conversational register), and do 1.  Examples were found in all the Facebook pages of Israeli politicians examined, including those of Yair Lapid, Benjamin Netanyahu, Isaac Herzog, Tzipi Livni, Moshe Kahlon, Avigdor Lieberman, Naftali Bennett, Merav Michaeli, Stav Shafir, Zehava Galon, Tamar Zandberg, Oren Hazan, and Miki Zohar. I would like to thank the students of the Department of Hebrew Language at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev (2017, 2018) for their contribution to the collection of the findings. 2.  Similar expectations from politicians were also found in television talk shows (Hamo et al. 2010: 251–253, 2012: 359–363). 3.  A high frequency of self-positioning as “ordinary” was also found in the posts of Swedish politicians (Nilsson 2012), while in the posts of French politicians, such positioning was found to be quite infrequent (Lehti 2011: 1615).

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not refer to the politicians by formal terms of address and reference. In addition, some comments are characterized with confrontational, even cynical, language toward the politicians, in line with the norms found in comments on op-eds (Kohn and Neiger 2007; Weizman and Dori-Hacohen 2017). Thus, readers position the politicians as equal or inferior to them in status (i.e., “simple” people like them), reinforce the informal image of the politicians’ Facebook pages, and undermine the traditional view of politicians as public authorities. From a rhetorical point of view, many advantages have been attributed to the self-positioning of politicians as ordinary. Among other things, it has been noted that this positioning may be seen as an expression of sincerity, encouraging a sense of empathy and closeness among readers, creating an impression of technological progress and a democratic orientation, and perceived as evidence of grounding in daily life, and in some cases also in the local community (Coleman and Giles 2008: 10; Nilsson 2012: 253, 261). Nonetheless, politicians are careful to position themselves as ordinary only on subjects that are not controversial and not to expose themselves excessively. This means that politicians attempt to balance self-positioning as “ordinary people” who can represent the citizens in an authentic manner and self-positioning as people with special skills who are worthy of leading the citizenry (Coleman and Giles 2008: 10; Nilsson 2012: 254, 261, 263; Wood et al. 2016: 581–582, 584–585, 589). Research shows that politicians position themselves as ordinary people, for example, by writing about personal weaknesses, family issues, daily life (playing with their children, attending family dinners, and so on), and popular culture (Coleman and Giles 2008: 10–13; Nilsson, 2012). Nilsson notes that in this positioning “the language used […] was personal and the posts were addressed to readers in an informal manner – as if to a friend” (ibid: 253). Inspired by these observations, and especially by Sacks’s view (1984), my claim is that in order to state that a politician positions himself/herself as an ordinary person in a Facebook post, three conditions should be met: a. The post should contain themes that concern many people in their daily lives and on their Facebook pages, including situations from everyday life (cooking, working), special events (celebrating birthdays, having babies), and significant experiences (caring for elderly parents).4 The politician may either describe the ordinary situation or perform a typical ordinary act (sharing a singer’s YouTube video) or speech act (wishing readers a happy holiday, recommending a restaurant, and so on). 4.  At times the acts and experiences are identified with groups that are culturally, politically, and otherwise distinct, and may include, for example, participating in a gay pride parade, or celebrating the unification of Jerusalem.



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b. The post should be written from a personal point of view, not a political-public one. c. The post should use communicative patterns typical of the Facebook pages of the general public. These patterns mainly include the use of personal, emotional, informal and conversational language (Vaisman and Gonen 2011: Chapter 2). 3. Three types of readings of a Politician’s self-positioning as an ordinary person The readers’ comments under discussion meet the definition of follow-ups – “communicative acts (or dialogue acts), in and through which a prior communicative act is accepted, challenged, or otherwise negotiated by ratified participants in the exchange or by third parties” (Weizman and Fetzer 2015: XI; see also Fetzer, Weizman and Berlin 2015). They also correspond with Kohn and Neiger’s (2007: 324) description of readers’ comments on online journalism, according to which the comments constitute “a one-time response forum […], a kind of cross between a chat and [an online] forum that allows many people to express their opinions in the public arena” (Kohn and Neiger 2007: 324).5 An examination of 14 Israeli politicians’ Facebook pages6 demonstrated that their self-positioning as ordinary people evokes diverse interpretations among readers. This diversity of interpretations, I believe, stems from differences in their knowledge, beliefs, and expectations regarding the writing of Facebook-posts by the specific politician in question, as well as by politicians in general. My claim is that this diversity leads to three major types of readings of the relevant posts: 1. Single-voiced readings. According to Bakhtin (1981: 434), a “voice” represents awareness, a consciousness. By “single-voiced reading” I mean that the readers see the ordinary voice of the politician in a specific post as is, and thus perceive it as authentic, legitimate, and independent. 2. Double-voiced readings. In such readings, the ordinary voice is seen as a partial representation of the politicians, in which their common political-public voice is missing. It is therefore viewed as authentic and legitimate (to varying degrees), but also as not satisfactory, and at times even marginal in relation to the common and expected political voice. 3. Polyphonic readings. A polyphony, according to Bakhtin (1981, 1986) is a dialogical phenomenon – a clash between two voices representing two rival 5.  Translation of the original Hebrew. 6.  See details in Note 2.

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consciousnesses that takes place in a single utterance, at times even one word. In polyphonic readings, the ordinary voice is seen as clashing with the political-public voice and subjugated to it. It is therefore viewed as an inauthentic, fictitious, and illegitimate representation of the politician that is employed purely to promote a political agenda. 4. The politician and post under discussion Since the discussion of the readers’ comments requires contextual knowledge about the politician who writes the posts, I will focus on the comments on the self-positioning of one Israeli politician – Yair Lapid.7 Lapid was born in 1963, is married, and has three children. Unlike many senior politicians in Israel, including Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who have a “security aura” because they have done combat service in the military (see Livnat this volume), Lapid spent most of his military service as a reporter for the military newspaper Bamahane due to asthma. Before becoming a politician, Lapid served as a journalist, publicist, and news presenter. He also wrote books, songs, and plays, and acted in films. In both weekly columns he wrote in the press and entertainment programs he hosted, he often dealt with the question “Who is an Israeli?” In 2012, Lapid formed a party called Yesh Atid (There is a Future), and for two years served as Israel’s Minister of Finance. Since December 2014, his party has been part of the opposition. Ideologically, Lapid is center-right Zionist. He advocates the right of Israel to protect itself from its enemies without apology, and often attacks the Western world for being hypocritical on this issue. He believes that all citizens should bear the country’s economic and security burden equally, and therefore works to integrate ultra-Orthodox Jewish people into the army and the labor market.8 Lapid has declared his commitment to new, transparent politics, and as part of this commitment, he is very active on Facebook. He usually posts at least once a day, and many times even more frequently. He often uploads videos from various public activities, transcripts of speeches in the Knesset (Israeli parliament), editori-

7.  Another pragmatic-rhetorical phenomenon examined in Lapid’s posts is the construction of general truths (Shukrun-Nagar 2016). 8.  In Israel there is mandatory military service for men and women over 18, yet many ultra-Orthodox individuals are exempt from the service by law, a situation that is sometimes considered to be paradoxical, and constructed as such in the mainstream news in Israel (Shukrun-Nagar 2013). See also Weizman and Johansson (this volume), Section 6.



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 109

als he has published in newspapers in Israel and other countries, and more.9 Every post has dozens, and sometimes even hundreds, of comments. In public discourse and the media, Lapid receives broad coverage due to quotes from his posts, among other things. He is often accused of using inaccurate data and expressing himself in a populistic or demagogic manner (Mann and Lev-On 2013: 77; 2014: 11; 2016: 18). According to the polls, Lapid has recently received much support from the public and his political power is greater than ever.10 For the study, all the posts in which Lapid positions himself as an ordinary person in 2016 and 2017 were examined.11 In these posts, he includes familial contents and shares his thoughts and feelings on non-political subjects (for example, the excitement over an Israeli Judoka winning an Olympic medal). I discuss the comments on one post so that I can show their interrelationships, but also include findings and conclusions from comments on other posts. The post discussed was written on October 4, 2017, on the eve of the Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles) holiday, and deals with the holiday experience of Lapid’s family: “And thou shalt rejoice in thy feast; therefore thou shalt truly rejoice.”12 What fun13 that my soldier is home and also Noga my niece who was inducted yesterday went home for the first time. [Photograph of a uniform next to a washing machine (see appendix)] Happy holiday. 9.  http://www.nrg.co.il/online/47/ART2/328/134.html http://www.nrg.co.il/online/47/ART2/431/209.html http://www.yeshatid.org.il/team/yair https://he.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D7%99%D7%90%D7%99%D7%A8_%D7%9C%D7%A4%D7 %99%D7%93 http://www.knesset.gov.il/faction/heb/FactionPage.asp?PG=211 All sites last accessed May 13, 2018. 10.  In surveys conducted in January 2018, his political strength was estimated as at least 25 seats (See, for example: https://news.walla.co.il/item/3128939; http://www.maariv.co.il/news/politics/ Article-617608 [the sites are in Hebrew]). 11.  In some of the posts, the self-positioning as an ordinary person is carried out alongside professional positioning. Posts with mixed positioning have also been found on sites of Swedish (Nilsson 2012: 256) and British politicians (Coleman and Giles 2008). Lehti (2011) pointed to a general mix of different genres and sub-genres in French politicians’ posts. 12.  In the Hebrew original, this line is vowelized. See the original Hebrew post in the appendix. 13.  The Hebrew word kef, translated here as “fun,” has a somewhat broader meaning than the word “fun” has in English and is often used for more general expressions of happiness, pleasure, or satisfaction.

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The post has three main parts. The opening part, “And thou shalt rejoice in thy feast; therefore thou shalt truly rejoice” is a phrase that originates in Deuteronomy 16: 14–15 and has become part of a famous popular song. Although there is no mention in the post of the biblical source, it is reasonable to assume that many of the readers are familiar with the contents of the command and identify its biblical language. The quote serves as a sort of motto for the post, representing the continuation of the Jewish-Israeli values that pass from generation to generation and are projected onto Lapid’s private joy. In the second part, Lapid expresses his happiness that his son and niece, both soldiers doing compulsory military service, will celebrate the holiday with the family and not in the army. This personal-emotional content may create an impression of intimate closeness between Lapid and his readers. In addition, his writing constructs interdiscursive links to the general discourse in Israel. Lapid raises themes that are common in the discourse of Israeli parents about their children who are soldiers: the soldiers’ arrival home for the holiday (or for the Sabbath), conscription to the Israel Defense Forces, and the first time home after recruitment.14 Moreover, in terms of communicative patterns, Lapid is true to the way Israelis in general and parents in particular talk about these themes; he expresses overt delight at the children’s homecoming (“What fun that my soldier is home and Noga, my niece who was inducted yesterday, went home for the first time”) and uses conversational and emotional language (“What fun that my soldier is home” [eyze kef she-ha-chayal sheli ba-bayit]) that incorporates common basic military jargon (“inducted” [hitgaysa]; “went home” [yats’a habayta]).15 By using these communicative patterns, Lapid semiotically encodes in his post his being Israeli, specifically an Israeli parent of a soldier, as well as his commitment to Zionist ideology and its main practical implementation – bearing the heavy burden of military service in Israel. The third and last part of the post is a photo of army uniforms placed next to a washing machine. Doing the laundry is a common theme in the emotional, at times humoristic, public discourse about how parents pamper their soldier children when they come home, especially combat soldiers who come home only once every few weeks. Moreover, since this is done in almost all soldiers' homes, the mere raising of the theme blurs the difference in public status between Lapid and his readers. 14.  These themes, as well as the theme of preparing the soldiers’ favorite food when they come home for vacations, are prominent, for example, on the weekly radio program Mother’s Voice, where parents talk about their children’s military service. 15.  These communicative patterns are reflected, for example, in the weekly radio program mentioned above (Note 14), Mother’s Voice, as well as in daily conversations between Israelis.

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In conclusion, through the themes that Lapid raises in the post and the communication patterns he uses, he positions himself as a “regular” Israeli parent of a combat soldier, which in Israel considered a reflection of being an ordinary person. Specifically, this means that he positions himself as equal to his readers (due to his parental functioning) and as having a close and intimate acquaintance with them (which enables him to reveal his feelings). In addition, Lapid positions himself as a member of the Zionist community, the broadest and most consensual ideological community in Israel, and the one of which most of his readers are members as well (as is evident from the readers’ comments to the post). This post received 187 comments (as of May 13, 2018), 141 of which related to its content.16 5. Single-voiced readings This category includes comments that indicate the acceptance of Lapid’s ordinary voice as an authentic, legitimate, and independent representation of him. At the content level, single-voiced readings are reflected in referring to the content and direct messages of Lapid’s post in a supportive manner. In the post in question, the central theme – the familial joy of the holiday – received the greatest number of comments – 88,17 for example:

1. Happy and familial holiday Yair.

The theme of being soldiers and the laundry theme, which was raised in a photo only, received 20 comments each [Ex. 2, 3 respectively]. Ex. 2 includes a common wish mainly regarding combat soldiers, who endanger their lives during military service. Ex. 3 refers to the military accessories shown in the photo.

2. Good week happy holidays may G-d keep them safe amen and bring them home safely



3. It seems to me that you should remove the pin and dog tag before putting it in the machine :)

At the level of communicative patterns, single-voiced readings are reflected in extensive adoption of the patterns used by Lapid in his post. This includes emotional 16.  The translations of the comments reflect to the greatest extent possible the original register, but not spelling and wording errors in Hebrew. 17.  Some of the comments relate to more than one theme. These themes were also addressed in other readings (Sections 6, 7).

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and informal writing as well as wide use of military jargon. I will show that these patterns serve to reposition Lapid as an ordinary person. High positive emotionality is expressed in the readers’ comments in a variety of ways, the most prominent being loaded words.18

4. Happy Sukkot holiday

to the loving and united Lapid family.



5. Happy holiday enjoy perfect family

Many commenters overtly expressed empathy and identification with Lapid’s joy at the family’s being reunited.

6. Touching

Enjoy [plural form in Hebrew] the togetherness

Often the emotional identification is expressed in “linguistic identification,” mainly the use of the word “fun” [kef], which Lapid himself used in his post.

7. Definitely fun, happy holiday



8. Indeed great fun, happy holiday beloved family



9. 😊 The most fun happy holiday to all of you

Expressing positive feelings toward Lapid shows that the readers perceive his emotional writing in the post as authentic and legitimate. Moreover, by using emotional writing themselves, readers continue to maintain the intimate personal communication with which Lapid began, thus reflexively repositioning him as a person close to them. Frequently, the emotionality of the comments is increased by the use of informal means that are common in social networks – doubling of letters [Ex. 10–11], one to three exclamation marks [12], and emojis [11, 13–15].

10. Yair a haaapy Sukkot holiday to you and your family.



11. May he always return home safely



12. Happy holiday to dear Lihi [Lapid's wife] and Yair!!!



13. Happy holiday with the family …with love



14. Happy holiday Lapid Family health happiness and all the goodness in the world



15. Happy holiday

Haaapy

May they always arrive safely

holiday!

and you be happy

18.  I will use bold fonts to mark the words that I wish to point out in the examples.



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 113

These informal emotional comments show that readers view Lapid as a relatively close person. They do not posit that he should be treated as a formal authority, but rather as hierarchically equal to them. This impression is even more pronounced in the use of the first names of Lapid (Yair) and his family members (Lihi – his wife, and Lior – his son) in order to address them or refer to them. Moreover, since the wife’s and son’s names are not mentioned in the post in question, using them in the readers’ comments may be seen as indicating close familiarity with Lapid and his family (from the Facebook page or “real” life) and thus may serve to reflexively reposition Lapid as close to the readers.

16. Dear Yair I wish a happy Sukkot holiday to you and your family



17. Happy holiday Yair. Happy for you and Lihi that Lior came home for the holiday



18. Happy holiday to you and your wife Lihi and to the whole mishpoche [slang originating in the Yiddish word for family]

The word mishpoche in Ex.18 demonstrates the use of an informal, conversational register, which is widespread in the single-voiced reading comments and in itself serves to position Lapid as a close and hierarchically equal person. In some of the comments, the commenters position themselves with varying degrees of explicitness in familial roles – whether in the present or in the past – that make them identify with Lapid’s joy. In so doing, they emphasize the common denominator between them and Lapid, which indicates emotional closeness and hierarchical symmetry.

19. I’m familiar with this. True joy from the heart that the children are at home



20. There is nothing like a combat soldier who comes home. Reminds me of forgotten things



21. Happy holiday I’m also having fun my soldier is home Happy New Year



22. My grandson came for a holiday and it’s great fun for us.



23. My nephew also came from the army. Fun.

In these examples [19–23] a message of hierarchical symmetry is also conveyed on the discursive level, since readers, like Lapid himself, have the right to share their own experiences. This holds true also when the commenters are having an experience that is the opposite of Lapid’s because their children did not come home for the holiday:

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24. Happy holiday from the bottom of my heart. And I am glad that your soldiers are at home. Mine is protecting everyone with all the soldiers who stayed [in the army]. May G-d watch over them all. Amennn [amen with doubling ‘n’] and amen.



25. Only mine is “closing” [staying on the base during] the holiday and Sabbath in 188 Barak19

In the following dialogue [26], both Lapid and the responder position themselves as close to each other and hierarchically equal, due to the personal emotive content and the use of an informal conversational register: 26. Commenter: Fun for you (pl.) [kef lachem], our soldier is on the base … Yair Lapid: What a bummer [eyze ba’asa]…. Tell him happy holiday from me and Lihi [Lapid’s wife]. Commenter: Thanks. You too …

Positioning of closeness and symmetry is also achieved when commenters express empathy regarding the experience of doing soldiers’ laundry at various levels of emotional involvement – from recognizing the work to be done, through a similar personal experience in the present, to fondly remembering the past.

27. Hahaha [chchch – an informal mark of laughing used in social networks] Two loads at least…



28. Exactly a typical picture … as if it had been taken at our place today … Happy holiday20



29. As the father of three soldiers who came home for the holiday, I understand very well the wonderful feeling, and also the pile of laundry. …. Happy holiday!



30. One of the things I liked was to wash my children’s uniforms and smell their scent mixed with laundry soap. Some things don’t come back. That’s one of them.

Emphasizing the shared functioning of these commenters and Lapid as parents (or other close relatives) of soldiers, demonstrated in Ex. 19–30, fulfills another important rhetorical-pragmatic function – marking their affiliation with the same ideological community, the consensual Zionist community in Israel. 19.  “Closing” a Sabbath or holiday is a well-known military jargon meaning staying on the base and not leaving for a vacation at home. Barak 188 is the name of an Israeli armored brigade. 20.  Lapid frequently posts photographs in personal posts, and sometimes commenters post personal photographs that reflect similar experiences.



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 115

The message of belonging to the same community is particularly strong in generalizing the formulation of the shared experience – in this case the parents’ concern for their soldier children (especially the combat soldiers) and the sense of relief when they arrive home for vacation.

31. It’s the most fun when the soldier is at home. The whole house is filled with new energies



32. Such happiness. To see them at home. Now it is possible to sleep peacefully.



33. Always good to have them home!!!

The readers also mark their affiliation with Lapid’s community through a demonstration of familiarity with army procedures as well as with the jargon common among soldiers (including former soldiers and relatives of soldiers). Since most Israelis share the cultural experience surrounding military service, these comments may also serve to reinforce the feeling of solidarity among the commenters themselves.

34. Is he a tank-crew man? We used to joke that shiryon [Armored Corps in Hebrew] was an acronym for “The first week you go home and the rest you stay [on the base].”



35. Noga got a rivush [military jargon for vacation from Wednesday until Sunday] right at the beginning … don’t get used to it21 … Happy Holidays



36. She came home for the first time the day before yesterday, two days after she was inducted … This is a serious army?



37. Happy holiday Yair, tell your son way to go and [tell] the commander not to send him home until he meshaptser [military jargon for repairs or upgrades military equipment] his diskit [dog tag]



38. A pin on madey bet [military jargon for field uniform]?? What is this shatnez [mixture of wool and linen prohibited by Jewish law]22??

21.  “Don’t get used to it” is a humoristic, popular, and informal phrase that may be addressed to a person who has received an unusual benefit. It means that this person should not expect to receive this benefit again. 22.  The religious rules regarding shatnez are not at all relevant in this situation. The use of ultra-Orthodox jargon in the context of a post about a combat soldier creates a humorous effect, since most ultra-Orthodox people do not serve in the military.

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Interestingly, in all of these examples [34–38], the solidarity expressed may be enhanced by the use of humor to reconstruct the shared experience,23 especially with regard to the long periods soldiers spend in the army [35–36], and the rules that they must obey [37–38]. Demonstrating solidarity based on the military service experience, some commenters give Lapid practical tips regarding the correct way to wash the son’s uniform, especially because a combat pin was attached to it. In positioning terms, this testifies to symmetrical, non-hierarchical perception of Lapid, mainly when the advice is formulated not as general recommendations [39–40], but as direct instructions [41–42].

39. High quality soldiers it’s worth removing the tzfargol [Armored Corps pin] before washing [the uniform]



40. Check (plural) the pockets carefully before it [the uniform] goes into the machine



41. It seems to me that you should remove the pin and dog tag before putting it in the machine :)



42. Just take off the tzfargol [Armored Corps pin] so it doesn’t get stuck in the machine.

In summary, single-voiced readings indicate that the commenters see Lapid’s ordinary voice as a legitimate, authentic, and independent representation of him. As noted, in his post, Lapid expresses his joy at the family’s reunion with the combat soldier son, using emotional and informal writing combined with basic military jargon. By doing so, he positions himself as an ordinary person in three ways – as equal to his readers, as close to them, and as a member of their community. The single-voiced readings of this post are reflected in its mirror image in the readers’ comments. At the content level, this is apparent in supportive responses to the content and direct messages, and at the level of communicative patterns, it is manifested in extensive adoption of the patterns used by Lapid. Through these means, the commenters reposition themselves, as well as Lapid, as members of a shared community who have close and hierarchically symmetrical relationships.

23.  For a comprehensive review of humor, see, for example, Hirsch, 2011.

“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 117



6. Double-voiced readings This category includes comments that indicate the acceptance of Lapid’s ordinary voice as authentic and legitimate, but as a partial and unsatisfactory representation of him as a familiar public persona whose usual and expected voice is political. At the content level, double-voiced readings are reflected in two different sub-categories of referring to the content and direct messages of Lapid’s post  – first, linking them to Lapid’s public-political functioning as it actually is or as the respondents would like it to be, and second, linking them, directly or indirectly, to the life and conduct of the general public or parts of it. In both sub-categories, the double-voiced reading is reflected in partial adoption of the communicative patterns used by Lapid together with the use of other communicative patterns. Hence, I will show that the outcome is an extension of the original self-positioning of Lapid as an ordinary person to include political-public dimensions. Linking the contents or messages of Lapid’s post with his functioning as a politician includes expressing positive feelings about his functioning in the present [43] and, primarily, positive wishes regarding his functioning in the future [44–47].

43. What fun that we have someone like you in politics24



44. What fun …! Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?



45. Happy holiday to the wonderful Lapid family. To Balfour being illuminated Lapidily [meaning both by the Lapid family and by a torch] next year. 25



46. Happy holiday to the next prime minister and his family



47. Dear Mr. Lapid Happy Holiday. For your sake and ours, I wish that the Yesh Atid party would win 40 seats and establish a sane and honest government that would serve the whole public. I’m sure it will happen soon.

Similarly to single-voiced comments, these comments contain words with positive emotional connotations, such as “wonderful” [nehederet] [45], “illuminated” [mueret] [45], “sane” shfuya] [47], “honest” [yeshara] [47], and also “fun” [kef] [43, 44], which was originally used in Lapid’s post. However, in these double-voiced comments, there is much less use of informal emotional means  – there is only one emoji [45], one example in which emotive punctuation was used [44], and no doubling of letters. This is true in the following examples as well. 24.  Comments with similar content were widespread in other personal posts by Lapid about his soldier son and autistic daughter. 25.  Balfour is the name of the street in Jerusalem where the Prime Minister’s residence is located. Lapid, in addition to being a family name, is also Hebrew for torch.

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Moreover, examining the register, especially the terms of address and references, shows that while the single-voiced reading comments are informal and intimate as a rule, the double-voiced reading comments are heterogenic with regard to degree of formality and intimacy: Examples  43 and 44 are intimate and informal – “what fun” [43], “What fun …!” , “Well, Yair?” [44]; Ex. 45 is less intimate (“Happy holiday to the wonderful Lapid family”), but still quiet informal (“illuminated Lapidily”, emoji); Ex. 46 is even less intimate and more formal (“Happy holiday to the next prime minister and his family”); and finally, Ex. 47 is the least intimate and most formal – “Dear Mr. Lapid”, “I wish that the Yesh Atid party would win 40 seats and establish a sane and honest government […]”. It appears that some of the respondents who relate to Lapid’s current or longawaited political functioning still position him – to varying degrees – as close to them in terms of intimate relationships and equal in terms of public status, thus at least partly reinforcing his self-positioning as an ordinary person. On the other hand, other readers use formal terms of address and references as well as an overall elevated register, and by so doing position Lapid as a public-political persona whose relationships with the respondents are relatively formal and distant. Another common link between the contents or messages of Lapid’s post and his functioning as a politician focuses on the areas in which Lapid, by virtue of being the head of a large party, may be perceived as influential. This includes mainly requests [48] and criticism [49–50]. 48.

Happy holiday MK Lapid Happy holiday to all the soldiers. For the sake of all of our [men and women] soldiers Come join ‫ נשים עושות שלום‬- ‫نساء يصنعن السالم‬- Women Wage Peace on the March for Peace.



49. And only Avraham Mengistu is still not with us on the holiday!26



50. What hurts is that there are lone soldiers sleeping on the street and they do not have permission to sleep in the soldier’s home [free hostel for soldiers]. If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to sleep

Here, too, the positioning of Lapid is mixed. The request in Ex. 48 is very polite – it includes the title MK and its register is quite formal. Thus Lapid is positioned as a respected, distanced political authority. On the other hand, the critical comments contain the pronoun ‘you’ [50] or no mention of Lapid at all [49], their register is

26.  Avraham Mengistu is a soldier who, apparently due to mental problems, crossed the border into the Gaza Strip in September 2014 and has since been held captive there by Hamas.

“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 119



informal, and their wording is impolite. Here Lapid is positioned as a distanced, but not respected, political authority. As mentioned, double-voiced readings are also reflected in linking the content and messages of Lapid’s post to the life and conduct of the general public or parts of it. This means that the perception of Lapid as a public figure is preserved even when he writes a personal post, and accordingly his Facebook page is perceived as a legitimate platform for the communication of the commenters with one another. For example, single-voiced readings led the commenters to respond to Lapid’s blessing for a happy holiday by addressing him (or his family) and wishing them a happy holiday in return. In contrast, in double-voiced readings, commenters address this wish to the general public, as in the following comment:

51. Happy holiday to everyone

Similarly, while in single-voiced readings the commenters refer to Lapid’s expression of joy at the reunion with his soldier son as a private experience, in doublevoiced readings it is related to as a representative Israeli-Zionist experience. This view is expressed in two types of emotional comments  – first, prayers for the safety of all soldiers and solidarity with their families [52–54], which can be seen as positioning Lapid as an ordinary Israeli parent, and second, pointing out the reflection of social values in military service, especially that of combat soldiers [54–55], which positions Lapid as demonstrating exemplary moral-civic conduct. In both cases, the result is the strengthening of the sense of shared destiny of the Israeli-Zionist community as well as Lapid’s positioning as part of this community.

52. Happy holiday and G-d protect him and all our soldiers [masculine form] and soldiers [feminine form]!



53. This very morning when I got on the train at the Ashkelon station, dozens of soldiers arrived from the Gaza area and then everyone got off in Tel Aviv and went on to their destinations and I said to myself … Wow how many uniforms will be washed … How many soldiers will get into their beds this holiday and curl up in their blankets … heartwarming … happy holiday and may they always return home for the holidays to the families with a huge embrace, healthy and whole



54. May G-d protect them. This is indeed an example of good citizenship ….



55. Happy holidays, respect to families who share the burden.

The more Lapid’s page is perceived as a public space, the less the comments relate to his personal experience and the more they focus on the personal experience of the commenters. In the following example, one of the commenters describes his personal experience as a soldier in the Armored Corps during the 1973 Yom Kippur

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War. His anecdote becomes a new theme in the dialogue between commenters, and he receives personal, very emotive responses from several combat soldiers (men [56–57] and a woman [58]), who served in the same corps at other times:

56. As a former tank crewman, I always remember that these are the days of the Yom Kippur War and that on the eve of Sukkot we “celebrated” in the steel Merkava tanks between the shelling and the battles to rescue the soldiers at the Suez Canal strongholds. May we know no more wars. Happy Sukkot holiday!



57. As a Centurion tank driver in the late 1980s, I take my hat off to those who took part in the difficult fighting in the Yom Kippur War. You simply saved the country



58. Also as a former tank-crew woman, I take my hat off to you

Such dialogues illustrate that readers view Lapid’s Facebook page as an open, public forum in which people can talk with each other and nurture their community interactions, if only in virtual terms. Accordingly, this type of comment is characterized by mutual respect and high positive emotionality. Here, too, the result is a strengthening of the sense of community, but in these cases not only is Lapid not positioned as an example of its members, he is not even mentioned as one of them. Although he “hosts” the respondents on his own page, he is absent from their discourse, which may indicate that at most they consider him a member of equal status in their community, but probably not above them. In summary, double-voiced readings indicate that the commenters see Lapid’s ordinary voice as an authentic and legitimate, but only partial representation of him, in which the common political-public voice is missing. As I demonstrated, there are two sub-categories of comments that reflect double-voiced readings, and each is characterized by unique content and communication patterns. In the first category, the content and direct messages of Lapid’s post are linked to his public-political functioning in either the present or the future. The comments are characterized by heterogeneity of emotional means (especially words), registers, and terms of address and references. This means that there is also heterogeneity in the way Lapid is positioned in terms of the feelings towards him (positive – negative); degree of closeness regarding him (closely related – distant); and the degree of authority attributed to him (non-authority  – public-political authority). The more he is positioned as closely related and a non-authority, the more his self-positioning as an ordinary person is reinforced, and vice versa – the more he is positioned as distant and as an authority, the more his self-positioning as an ordinary person is deconstructed. Most examples in this category are supportive and demonstrate the perception of Lapid as an authority, but also relatively



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 121

closely related to the readers. That is, his self-positioning as an ordinary person is partially preserved, yet extended to include his usual public-political persona. In the second category of double-voiced readings, the content and direct messages of Lapid’s post are linked to the life and conduct of the general public or parts of it. This means that despite the self-positioning of Lapid as an ordinary person in the post, knowing him as a politician led to commenters perceiving his Facebook page as a public domain – an arena in which they may refer to the general public and communicate with each other regarding not, or not only, Lapid’s experience, but others’ experiences as well. As a rule, doing this serves to intensify inter-community relations, especially those based on shared Zionist ideology. Nonetheless, the positioning of Lapid with regard to this community is heterogenic – it moves from his positioning as an example to the members of that community, through the strengthening of his self-positioning as its equal, ordinary member, to the marginalization of his membership in this community to the extent of his symbolic exclusion from the discourse. It is interesting to note the inherent contradiction between the positioning of Lapid as an ordinary person (as noted, to varying degrees) and the actual use of his page to strengthen inter-community ties, which attests to commenters’ awareness of his being a non-ordinary person. In this use of Lapid’s page, too, there is an extension of his self-positioning as an ordinary person to a positioning that includes his functioning as a public figure. 7. Polyphonic readings This category includes comments that reflect the perception of Lapid’s ordinary voice as clashing with his political-public voice  – a voice that is inauthentic, disguised, and politically motivated, and therefore fundamentally illegitimate. At the content level, polyphonic readings are expressed in comments that seemingly indicate the negativity in Lapid’s self-positioning as an ordinary person. This mainly includes attributing to Lapid the improper motive of attempting to win public sympathy by writing about his soldier son [59–63, 65–66], as well as pointing out the negative consequence of repeating this conduct – annoying the readers [61–66]. The comments reflect impatience, anger, hostility, and ridicule on the part of the readers.27

27.  In other posts in which politicians have positioned themselves as ordinary people, some of the commenters whose reading of the post was polyphonic reacted by attempting to silence the politicians (Shukrun-Nagar, accepted).

122 Pnina Shukrun-Nagar



59. Lapid is using his son’s uniform and boots to gather votes, while the vast majority of Israeli citizens do army service. With all due respect to Lapid Junior, these uniforms are completely trivial (the pin a little less so).



60. A like extractor under the auspices of the soldier who is far from his parents … You are still not a worthy replacement for prime minister … try harder



61. We got the message Yair. You wanted to broadcast to everyone so they’d know your son is in the army!



62. Way to go Yair, now we all know that the guy is a combat soldier, a tank-crew man ….



63. Let it gooo man we understood your son is a soldier

64. As if [you are] the only one in the country whose son is a soldier You badgered us about it!!!

Comment 66 is a response to Comment 65.

65. Enoughh you badgered us with your soldier …. Give reasons why we should vote for you and how you are better than Bibi [Prime Minister Netanyahu], that’s it […] It’s just that this gimmick of a son in the army is a little tiring, he should provide solutions for the many problems here.



66. Totally. We’re only missing pictures of Yair preparing couscous for Shabbat …

Couscous is a common, popular dish in Israel (not gourmet), and is used here metonymically to express contempt for any attempt on Lapid’s part to be seen as a one of the common people, a simple man. In Ex. 67, negative motives are attributed to the biblical quotation at the top of the post – 67. What do you have to do with Judaism Enough charlatan

The accusation of charlatanism corresponds with many similar accusations in the public discourse according to which Lapid and his wife are pretending to get closer to Judaism in order to bring religious audiences closer to Lapid. As expected, the comments that reflect a polyphonic reading share similar communication patterns, mainly highly negative emotional means, the most prominent of which are offensive words and insults. This includes, for example, “a like extractor” [maschetat laykim] [60], “you badgered us” [achalta lanu et ha-



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 123

rosh] [64], [chafarta lanu] [65], “gimmick” [65] and “charlatan” [67] all of which are in a conversational and informal register. Similarly to single-voiced readings, polyphonic readings are expressed in punctuation that increases the negative emotional effect, especially ellipses [60, 62, 65, 66], but also 1 or 3 exclamation marks [61, 64 respectively]. To a lesser degree, polyphonic readings are expressed in the doubling of letters – “let it gooo” [shachrerrr] [63], and “enoughgh” [dayy] [63]. There was also one occurrence of an emoji [63] – applause – which is interpreted here as ironic in accordance with the pretense theory (Clark and Gerrig 1984). Polyphonic readings were found to be similar to single-voiced readings in their prevailing lack of formality, for example in terms of address and references. Some commenters directly address Lapid using his first name, “Yair,” without any title [61, 62], or just the pronoun “you” [60, 65]. Others use terms of address that are even less formal and more offensive  – “man” [gever] [63], “charlatan” [sharletan] [67]. Informality was also demonstrated in words and idioms such as “let it gooo” [shachrerrr] [63], “you badgered us” [achalta lanu et ha-rosh] [64], [chafarta lanu] [65], as well as the ironic “try harder” [tishtadel yoter] [60], and “way to go Yair” [sacha] [62]. All the comments that reflect polyphonic readings convey a message of profound and blunt criticism of Lapid’s attempt to position himself as an ordinary person. While some of them do so directly [59, 65, 67], in most of them the criticism is ironic [60–64, 66]. As expected, none of them use positive politeness strategies that would reduce the threat to Lapid’s positive face (Brown and Levinson 1987). Thus, the commenters position Lapid as emotionally distant and hierarchically inferior in relation to them. This positioning is particularly prominent in cases where the comments are ironic, as this strategy positions the commenters as condescending to Lapid (Hancock et al. 2000: 228). Notably, comments that reflect polyphonic readings elicited an emotional and stormy discussion in which other commenters defended Lapid’s right to write like an ordinary person:

68. Anyone who feels uncomfortable praising Yair the father and not the politician should not respond. Differentiate the things [his being a politician] from what Yair feels at the moment.

It is important to emphasize that on both Lapid’s Facebook page and the pages of other politicians, all the personal posts received ironic comments. However, it appears that the differences between the contents of the posts and the common public assumptions about the politicians who post on Facebook affect the number of the hostile comments and their harshness.

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In Lapid’s case, emotional polyphonic readings were especially common following posts about his soldier son and niece. It seems that because Lapid is working to equalize the military burden, and because he lacks a security aura, the political gain in these cases seems transparent to some readers. On the other hand, a post about his autistic daughter who volunteered for the army was received with much less cynicism, as were other personal posts about his daughter or his late father, who was a Holocaust survivor. 8. Conclusion – Different readings, different Positionings This chapter examined readers’ comments on a post in which the politician Yair Lapid expressed happiness that his son and niece, both soldiers, would celebrate the holiday with the family, and attached a photograph showing a combat soldier’s uniform waiting to be laundered. His language was emotional and informal, and included basic military jargon. By combining the content, the photo, and these communication patterns, Lapid positioned himself as an ordinary person in three ways – as close to his readers, as hierarchically equal to them, and as a member of their community. It was shown that three different readings of this self-positioning are apparent in the readers’ comments. In the single-voiced readings, it is seen as an authentic, legitimate, and independent representation of Lapid. In the double-voiced readings, it is also viewed as authentic and legitimate, but as only a partial representation of Lapid, in which his familiar public persona is missing. In the polyphonic readings, Lapid’s ordinary voice is considered inauthentic and illegitimate – a manipulation by a politician aimed at gaining public sympathy by writing about his soldier son. The fundamental differences between the various readings were found to have a critical effect on both the content and communication patterns of the comments. At the content level, in the single-voiced readings, readers respond directly to the content and messages of the post – either by referring to Lapid’s experience or by mentioning similar personal experiences. In the double-voiced readings, readers link posts’ content and messages to Lapid’s public functioning either directly, by relating to his actual or desired functioning as a politician, or indirectly, by using his site as a public arena in order to develop inter-community relations. In the polyphonic readings, however, the content and direct messages of the post are dismissed scornfully, and the readers address only their ostensibly manipulative motives and negative implications. At the level of communicative patterns, in the single-voiced readings, readers extensively adopt the patterns used by Lapid, including highly positive-emotive and informal language, combined with well-known military jargon. Readers use



“Well, Yair? When will you be prime minister?” 125

additional emotive informal means, such as Lapid’s first name for addresses and references, as well as multiple punctuation marks, doubling of letters, and a large number of emojis. Some even spice their words with humor, while others give Lapid practical advice, which, like the former means, are expressions of closeness, identification, and support. Interestingly, the expressions of polyphonic readings are in some ways similar: highly emotive and informal language, including addressing Lapid by his first name, the use of multiple punctuation marks, and doubling of letters. However, in this category the emotionality is negative and the standpoint is critical, at times ironic, thus reflecting reservations and contempt. The category of the double-voiced reading is the most diverse in terms of readers’ perspectives and, accordingly, communication patterns. The comments are characterized by various combinations of emotional means (negative – positive) and registers (informal – formal). However, this is the only category in which commenters use a relatively high and formal register, expressed, for example, in addressing Lapid with formal titles. Naturally, the significant differences in content and communicative patterns between the comments of three categories reflect fundamental differences in the positioning of Lapid by the commenters. In the single-voiced readings, Lapid is re-positioned as an ordinary person in all three parameters – a close person, hierarchically equal, who belongs to the readers’ community. In contrast, both the double-voiced readings and the polyphonic readings demonstrate a different, “second order” positioning by the readers. In the double-voiced readings, he is still a member of the same community as the commenters, but usually less close and sometimes more of an authority. In this way, Lapid’s self-positioning as an ordinary person becomes partial, and is expanded to include his public persona. In the polyphonic readings, Lapid is positioned as distant and morally inferior to the readers – a politician who positions himself as ordinary in order to manipulate voters. In this way, Lapid’s self-positioning as an ordinary person is deconstructed and replaced by his prevailing political persona, as it is negatively perceived by these readers.

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‫ ‬

‫‪Appendix.  The post under discussion‬‬

‫ ‪Yair Lapid‬יאיר לפיד‬‫‪4‬באוקטובר‪2017‬‬ ‫”וְ שָ ׂמַ חְ תָ ּ בְ ּחַ ֶגָּך וְ הָ יִ יתָ אַ ְך שָ ׂמֵ חַ “‬ ‫איזה כייף שהחייל שלי בבית וגם נוגה האחיינית שהתגייסה שלשום יצאה הביתה בפעם הראשונה‬ ‫חג שמח‬

Part II

Constructing ordinariness in experts’ discourse

“I can do math, but I’m not that smart. I’m not brilliant” Ordinariness as a discursive resource in United States radiophonic financial call-in interactions Gonen Dori-Hacohen

University of Massachusetts, Amherst, United Sates

Radio call-in shows, mainly political ones, are prevalent in discursive research, dating back to Hutchby’s influential work. This chapter discusses the leading United States economic self-help radio call-in show, “The Dave Ramsey show” and how ordinariness is used in it. The host, Dave Ramsey, advises callers, and the audience, regarding their economic behavior. This counseling creates a paradox: an expert-millionaire advises ordinary people and fans regarding their economic struggles. The host presents himself as ordinary to solve this paradox. Ramsey constructs his ordinariness using vernacular language, referring to a shared ‘common-sense,’ using mundane stories and relating to the callers as a family. Then, the chapter discusses two interactions with “non-ordinary” callers, a poor and a rich caller, to show the uses of the ordinariness practices in them. The conclusion connects the ordinariness of the host to his neoconservative ideology, to point to the notion of ordinary success he tries to deliver. Keywords: radio call-in shows, economic and financial discourse, ordinariness, neo-conservatism, expert, businessman

1. Introduction Starting with Hutchby’s influential work (1996), the phone-in radio show has been the subject of much academic research into its discursive practices and structure. Although the main focus of phone-ins research was on political shows (e.g., DoriHacohen 2012a), research has discussed other genres as well (e.g., the therapeutic genre (Katriel 2004)). Research regarding the phone-in interactions has also discussed the membership categorization work in them (e.g., Fitzgerald and Housley

https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.06dor © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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2002), and another line of work connected radio phone-ins and the theories of the public sphere (Dori-Hacohen 2012a). This chapter studies a genre of call-in shows that is rarely discussed, the financial advice call-in show. As Hutchby (2001) argues, phone-ins are a site for ordinary people to present their opinions. Therefore, we expect ordinariness from the callers; additionally, in the economic program, we will see how the host uses language to create his ordinariness. The host needs to use ordinariness to connect to his caller, for the reason that is elaborated in the conclusion. Hence he uses discursive practices, as explained below, that create ordinariness to identify with his callers. The starting point takes ordinariness to be a discursive accomplishment. Examining ordinariness as a social phenomenon is part of the ethnomethodological approach to the study of social life. Accordingly, participants use practices to achieve social elements in their daily life (Garfinkel 1967). Sacks (1984) introduced the notion of “being ordinary” in mundane interactions. He showed how members talk and that within their talk they reveal how they live their ordinary life. This ordinary life, according to Sacks, is used in narration via utterances such as “At first I thought” which creates the ordinary background which is then changed to the extraordinary events that happened, events that break the ordinariness created in normal social routines. Sacks argued that ordinariness has strong ties to interactional and social entitlement. Hence, a member has some role which entitles them to describe something, and against this backdrop, they can create ordinariness. As such, the concept of ordinariness is tightly connected to the presentation of self (Goffman 1959), and to some degree, most self-presentations are of ordinary selves. Whereas stigmatized selves may have harder times to present themselves as ordinary (Goffman 1963), in this paper we explore how a socially extraordinary person, being extraordinary since he is a media star and a millionaire, Dave Ramsey, presents himself as ordinary. Thus, an entitled or an elite member can downplay his status, whereas the other direction, of a lower status up-playing their status, is harder (and of course, see Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion). One vehicle for lowering social status is to present oneself as ordinary. “Ordinariness” was recently studied as it is achieved in the Media, notably in mediated political discourse. Weizman and Fetzer, in two different projects, showed how elite members construct ordinariness via the use of ordinary voices (Fetzer and Weizman 2018) or the construction of ‘ordinary people’ (Weizman and Fetzer 2018). Weizman and Fetzer (2018) showed that journalists and columnists in Israeli op-eds. create the ‘ordinary citizen’ by using phrases that present what the journalists construct as the opinions of ordinary people. In other research, Fetzer and Weizman (2018) studied how UK politicians present voices from the public in the Prime Minister’s question hour, to insert both authenticity and ordinariness to this elitist political discourse. The point of similarity between their



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research and this chapter is two-fold: we share the theoretical perspective of the construction of ordinariness; moreover, we study how elite members of society are constructing themselves or others as ordinary. The difference here, though, is that in their papers, either the elite members constructed others as ordinary (Weizman and Fetzer 2018), or elite members inserted ordinary voices to their speech, which also distinguish themselves from the ordinary voice (Fetzer and Weizman 2018), whereas in this chapter an extraordinary member, part of the economic and media elite, constructs himself as ordinary mainly by using practices mimicking “ordinary people.” Another difference is that in their papers the ordinary voice was not present when the elite member either constructed it or used it, and this paper discusses an elite member who interacts with a non-elite member when he constructs himself as ordinary. Hence, whereas in their papers the positioning of the elite members vis-à-vis his ordinary audience is only imagined, in the current paper, the ordinariness position is grasped by the ordinary interlocutor, and this positioning can be responded to (although it is rarely done). The extraordinary person, a member of the economic and media elite, this paper explores is Dave Ramsey and the “The Dave Ramsey show.” The radio call-in show this paper studied is the leading economic-financial self-help radio talk show in the U.S.A. The show enjoys an estimated audience of more than 13 million listeners a week (http://www.talkers.com/top-talk-audiences/ accessed 09/27/2018) and is the third most popular radio talk show in the U.S.A. Ramsey’s audience is growing, and in 2017, Ramsey’s podcast was the fourth on Apple’s list of the most listened-to podcasts on I-tunes, and the first commercial podcast on this list.1 This show is part of the talkback radio call-in shows (Dori-Hacohen 2012a), meaning that the host is the center of the show, as the name of the show suggests, and the callers are secondary. His centrality on the show also suggests his extraordinariness, since most people do not have a radio show and not one that is being named after them. The research is based on the following materials. After listening to many hours of Dave Ramsey’s show as a radio listener, 15 host-caller interactions were transcribed using the CA conventions (Jefferson 2004). The interactions were taken from his shows aired on 07/17, 09/11, 08/01, 08/27 all in 2012. The interactions happened during the first, second, or third hour of the show, and they were available to record via the streaming of a local radio station in the NorthEast of the U.S.A (that station does no longer exist in the same format). These interactions, which resemble the other interactions on the show, are the data for this research,

1.  https://www.amplifimedia.com/blogstein/2017/12/18/gqxf6pqyn8j41fctx648iwu9whhiww accessed 09/2018.

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from which we answer the following research question: How does Dave Ramsey use practices of ordinariness in his interactions? The direct interaction between the host and the ordinary person provides an interesting contrast to other research of ordinariness. In the setting of the TV late-night talk show (Tolson 2001), the host and guests presented themselves as ordinary. In these interactions, two famous people, akin to the host of this chapter, were interacting with each other, despite the presentation of themselves as ordinary. This chapter explores conversational practices for constructing being an ordinary member, although the radio host who positions himself as ordinary, is not addressed as ordinary in the interaction and is extraordinary, socially speaking. Therefore, this paper resembles Sacks’s work in showing that even when a member is not ordinary, they have the resources to present themselves as such. Moreover, using Sacks’s other work on membership categorization (1972), we illustrate how the non-ordinary is constructed in relations to the ordinary, as a relational-pair. Then, the conclusion connects the construction of a millionaire and a radio host and star as an ordinary person to the neoconservative ideology which Ramsey promotes. This paper is organized in the following way to explore how an elite talk-show host uses the discursive structures and practices of ordinariness: First (Section 2) some context of the show is presented to sharpen the elements that present the host as not ordinary, including in the caller’s interactions with him. Second (Section  3), we discuss various practices the host uses for constructing himself as ordinary. Then (Section 4), two interactions the host holds with callers, who present themselves as non-ordinary, are analyzed. Finally, the conclusion connects discursive practices of ordinariness with some ideological aspects regarding this self-help economic advice radio talkback show. 2. Contextualizing the “The Dave Ramsey Show” Weizman and Fetzer (2018) found some categories and positions that are not considered ordinary, among which is ‘the businessman: “a key-word for ‘non-ordinary,’ i.e., ‘businessman’ (ish asakim).” (2018: 29).’ In my data, however, a businessman, and a very successful one constructs himself as ordinary. Hence, ordinariness is indeed a discursive construct and not an immutable category. As mentioned above, the interactions analyzed below are from the “The Dave Ramsey” radio talk show. There is no academic account of the life of Dave Ramsey. According to Wikipedia, he was born and still resides in Tennessee, from where his radio show is produced and syndicated throughout the U.S.A. He once owned a successful real estate business before he declared bankruptcy, only to rebuild a

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business focusing on financial advice for married couples. Ramsey advises individuals and couples how to manage their finances, and he focuses heavily on being debt-free. He also uses his show to promote his online and offline products and courses of self-help one’s economic and financial life.2 His role on the show is constructed as advise-giver. Here are a couple of caller’s turns, from the beginning of their interactions on the show, which illustrate the types of advice asked of Ramsey.

(1) a. Bill Raleigh, NC 1. 2.

C:

I just wonder, at what point do you decide to close it down or, (0.8) how long do you hold on if you’re trying to sell?

b. Carol, Los Angeles 3. 4.

C:

5. 6.

well, I’ve received eighty thousand um, in inheritance. and I wanted to know. Should I pay down my underwater mortgage, to refi? Or, shall I try to get ah, a home? In this economy, and rent it out and sell it when the market goes up.

These callers ask for business, economic, or financial advice. Bill asks when he needs to fold his business, yet he asks it in the impersonal second-person pronoun, either targeting Ramsey as the holder of knowledge or using the general-you (see Kamio 2001). Carol asks about mortgages and real estate, showing her knowledge of the financial jargon, using “refi” for refinancing (a mortgage), “underwater,” and other similar terms, yet she also expresses what she does not know to receive Ramsey advice about it: how best to use her inheritance. In both calls, and all others, Ramsey is interactionally constructed as an “expert.” The expert position usually precludes being ordinary (as was also found by Weizman and Fetzer (2018), and see Livingstone and Lunt 1994: 95)). So, in his interactional role, Ramsey is constructed as extraordinary for being an expert. Some callers construct Ramsey in an additional way:

(2) Ashley, Los Angeles 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

H: C: H: C:

Ashley is with us from Los Angeles, hi Ashley welcome to the Dave Ramsey show. hi Dave. How are you doing. better than I deserve. What’s up? (0.7) ah me and my husband are big fans. Ah we actually have your home study kit.

2.  According to various sources, he is valued at around 55 million dollars. After he had lost a fortune, his business of advising ordinary people turned him into a millionaire.

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Like other hosts of talkback radio (Dori-Hacohen 2013), Dave Ramsey has fans. These callers present themselves explicitly as fans on the show (2: 6). Moreover, as this segment illustrates, these fans also buy Ramsey’s products (his “study kit”), contributing to his economic success. Hence, the callers in the interactions construct the host as an expert who gives them advice and some of them are also construct him as a star. In both interactional positions, of advice-giving expert and admired person, the host is constructed by his callers as extraordinary. Socially, meaning outside the interactions, Ramsey’s economic status is not ordinary. He is a millionaire. Hence, we have two features that create an out of the ordinary identity for Ramsey: (1) interactional roles of an expert advice-giver and a star, and (2) an economic, extra-interactional, position of being a millionaire. Therefore, we have the following situation: an ordinary person calls in a financial help radio show and receives advice from an Expert-Millionaire Star. We may ask why ordinary people trust a millionaire to advise them or how the millionaire can relate to the problems of the ordinary person. This chapter discusses one set of discursive practices that help close the gap between the expert-millionaire-star host and his callers: constructing being ordinary. Ramsey presents himself as an ordinary person in delivering his advice to the callers, using various discursive practices such as using vernacular language and accent, common sense, personal narratives and information that present him as similar to his callers. These practices are presented next followed by a couple of longer excerpts that combine these practices when Ramsey is challenged by callers who present themselves as nonordinary since he needs to transform the callers and himself to being ordinary. The conclusion uses these non-ordinary people and Ramsey’s ordinariness to connect ordinariness with the economic ideology Ramsey believes in to illustrate how interactional practices may be connected to larger social structures. 3. Ramsey’s practices for creating ordinariness Dave Ramsey constructs himself as an ordinary person or a “commoner,” and for doing so, he uses various practices. He uses vernacular language, explicitly invokes common sense and uses practices both to get closer to the callers and get away from them, as this section presents. 3.1 Using vernacular language Vernacular language, according to Kopland, is “understood as an idealisation of ‘ordinary language’, in ideological opposition to ‘standard language’, which is an idealisation of ‘elite language.’” (2016: 410) Thus, it is a purposeful use of language

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to show its user to be ordinary, and indeed, Ramsey uses vernacular language for exactly this reason. This concept also fits well with constructing ordinariness in interactions and connects us, as we will see in the conclusion, to ideology. Therefore, when Ramsey uses a low register, mundane expressions, and even stressed accent, he uses them vernacularly, to present himself as ordinary. In (3), Ashely (the fan from (2)), is receiving advice about having a newborn and how expensive it is.

(3) Ashely, LA 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

H: and- and the real- e- the water bill doesn’t go up substantially. (1.2) H: for bathing a newborn. (0.5) H: real- you know what I’m sayin. ((with a U.S.A Southern accent)) (0.5) H: and so [it- it does increase your costs. C: [yeah. It totally dH: I mean you get some formula and some stiapers ((diapers)) and stuff and those kind of things those first couple of years. (0.5) but it worth every bit of that and its money (0.7) yo- if you budget for it, you’ll be able to do it with what you’re describing. Now if you call me up and said I make 22000 dollars a year (0.5) I have (0.5) e seven kids (0.5) and uhm (0.3) I have a 150000 dollars in debt,(0.5) what do you think, you think I should have another one? I’d be going well let’s lets kind of stop and measure here it. You know what I’m saying. ((same accent))

During his advice Ramsey talks about the cost of living and of having a newborn, to affirm Ashley’s position that she should have a baby, even when she did not finish getting out of debt. Ramsey reassures her and explains that a newborn does not use much water (3: 1) and that the costs of a newborn, in a list of four parts (3: 9–10), are not that expensive. To receive her confirmation, Ramsey uses “you know what I’m saying,” a vernacular address using rising intonation as a question, and when he produces this sentence, he stresses his accent, which he does not do throughout the other parts of his advice. He uses this address question twice at the early stage of the advice (3: 5) and towards its ending (3: 17), and in between, he uses common-sense knowledge to create his ordinariness, including relating to water bill (3: 1), diapers, and using the word ‘stuff ’ as a list-completer (3: 9–10). Ramsey also presents Ashley’s situation as ordinary. He compares it to a nonordinary situation (3: 13–17). The extraordinary situation is of a family with low income (22000$), seven kids, and exuberant debt (150000$). He explains that in the non-ordinary situation he would have given different advice, or at

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least suggests pausing to thinking of having another child. However, in Ashley’s ordinary situation, a newborn should be welcomed. Vernacular language and the vision of an ordinary southern man are also illustrated in (4) when Ramsey uses a western proverb to conclude his advice to Christine.

(4) Christine, Louisiana 1. 2. 3.

H: C:

as a part of that (0.3) circle the wagons and protect the family. (0.5) Okay.

Christine and her husband are about to move to a different state and to lose economic resources for pursuing the husband’s dream job of being a pastor. Hence, Ramsey urges Christine to take care of their family’s economic situation before attending to their new community’s needs, because for Ramsey, family comes first. He uses the proverb ‘to circle the wagons’ to stress the importance of the family. This proverb is a metaphor taken from the U.S.A. Western Expansion era, and via putting the wagons in a circle, the travelers created a safe space for the family within the protected parameter of the wagons (for a critical view of the metaphor at the base of this proverb see Ganje 2003). Following this metaphor, which is used like other proverbs to summarize his positions and receive agreement (Drew and Holt 1995), the caller confirms the advice (4: 3). In (5) Ramsey explains the importance of carrying health insurance, a sore economic problem in the U.S.A. The caller’s daughter spent three days at an ICU unit, while the caller and her husband had no health insurance. Here is how Ramsey explains the need for having health insurance:

(5) Michele, California 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

H:

C: H: C: H: C:

we don’t really carry health insurance (0.5) for a loose tooth. (0.5) We carry it for the icu stay. (0.6) right. the big stuff. (0.7) yeah. because the big stuff is the stuff that will take you down. So right. You are right.

Ramsey uses ‘loose tooth’ (5: 1) for a cheap medical expense that demands no medical insurance (5: 1). The experience of loose teeth is common, and it may be associated with either child replacing teeth or with some poor diet that leads to loosening of teeth. He contrasts this uncostly expanse to spending time in the intensive care unit (ICU 5: 2), which is very expensive in the U.S.A. This contrast illustrates his point about the need to carry health insurance. Then, after receiving

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a delayed caller’s confirmation (5: 4), he uses a lower register abstraction, ‘big stuff ’ various times, and explaining that such ‘big stuff ’ will lead to the caller’s economic downfall, which is also presented in a common vernacular as ‘take you down.’ (5: 8). The caller agrees with the host, following Ramsey’s simple explanation (5: 9). 3.2 Building shared common-sense Vernacular language and simple examples are also part of Ramsey’s practices to construct himself as ordinary: i.e., presenting ‘common sense.’ “Common sense” is, of course, another discursive construct, yet it presents itself as shared and commonplace. Everybody should use common sense and can recognize it, regardless of who they are. To some degree, common sense is the common ground of the ordinary. Moreover, Ramsey specifically and explicitly relates to the notion of ‘common sense.’ Unlike the examples above which illustrated ordinary life, Ramsey explicitly mentions what common sense is, and is not, to construct the meaning of this notion together with his callers. Ramsey does not leave this concept and its meaning to the taken-for-granted seen-but-unnoticed realm and explicates it. In (6), Ramsey agrees with the caller that his suggestion (of paying some of his debt on his house instead of foreclosing it) is common sense, but the banks which rejected the caller’s suggestion, do not use common sense.

(6) Ralph 1. 2. 3. 4.

H:

you and me sitting down Ralph, we could both look at it through (0.4) the eyes of common sense. And go, c↑rap, I don’t want Ralph’s house, it’s underwater. Let’s give the guy a sh↑ot here. (.) You know? I mean that would make sense

Ramsey constructs a shared experience for him and Ralph. Using the ‘conversational we’ (Dori-Hacohen 2014) that he creates by aligning Ralph and himself (the ‘we’ at 6: 1), Ramsey stresses that they can share the ‘common sense.’ However, then, using vernacular language (crap, give the guy a shot) which he marks prosodically,3 Ramsey emphasizes that the banks do not use this ‘common sense.’ Hence, Ramsey and Ralph are people who share common sense, the banks (the evils, although this will not be discussed here), do not share common sense. Ordinary people can follow common sense, since common sense is ordinary, for Ramsey and his caller. Similarly, when he talks with Ashley, Ramsey makes sure she understands him:

3.  I have left the upward arrows which represent a marked shift in pitch.

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(7) Ashley 1. 2. 3.

H: C:

does that make sense to you? (0.8) complete sense.

When Ramsey seeks Ashley’s agreement, he uses ‘make sense.’ This practice illustrates that ordinary people are sense-making. Indeed, Ashley repeats the ‘sense’ element and upgrades the making sense to ‘complete.’ ‘Common sense’ can be opposed to many things and to create it Ramsey contrasts it to not only what the greedy banks and their meaning-making (ex 6) but also to another concept, “philosophy,” as happens in his interaction with Michelle about health insurance:

(8) Michelle 1. 2.

H:

You just can’t afford to. It’s not a philosophical thing. It’s just a common sense thing.

Ramsey explains that Michelle cannot afford not having health insurance. Moreover, then, he contrasts philosophy with common sense and stresses that health insurance is not a philosophical issue, but a matter of common sense. Philosophy is taken as an abstract and detached concept that is not part of everyday life, unlike common sense, which is a practical and down-to-earth concept. Ramsey mirrors Livingstone and Lunt’s (1994) analysis of the ordinary person’s knowledge as opposed to the expert’s abstract knowledge. 3.3 Being similar and close to the callers Ramsey combines common sense with vernacular language and with the downto-earth knowledge to create his ordinariness. For example, when Ramsey advises Steve not to rush and buy a house, he invokes the well-known “Murphy’s Law”:

(9) Steve, Odessa 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

H:

And you’ve got a mess on your hands, and you’re getting ready to make it worse by buying a house. There are options in Midland Odessa Texas. I’ve been there several times. I know exactly what the landscape looks like there. … How much square footage does a baby take up? … If you buy a home sooner than that, you’re asking for trouble. It will knock on your door, you will answer the door and his name will be Murphy. You know that guy? If it can go wrong it will? And your life will start looking like a country song. So don’t fall for this stuff.

When Ramsey explains to Steve why he should not buy a home, his speech is in vernacular (a mess on your hands, 9: 1, asking for trouble, 9: 5–6) only to end by invoking the folk wisdom of Murphy’s law, as an illustration of ‘common sense.’ He explains the rule and presents it in a narrative way (9: 6–8). He presents Murphy

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as ‘that guy’ and explains that if something can go wrong, it will. He contrasts the common life with a ‘country song,’ a southern U.S.A. style of music which according to Ramsey explains the hardship of people who do not use common sense. Coming from Nashville, Tennessee, a cultural and artistic locus of country music, Ramsey can relate to its style and themes. Moreover, within the semiotic system of musical expression in the U.S.A., country music is perceived and was constructed as the authentic ‘folk’ music (see Peterson 2013). Knowledge of country music and resonating it also allows Ramsey to position himself alongside some of its authenticity and ordinariness. In his advice to Steve, Ramsey uses a couple of other practices that presents himself as ordinary. One of them is using down-to-earth knowledge. For example, he stresses that babies do not take up much space (and they also do not cost much, recall 3: 9–12) since Steve is about to have a newborn. He also presents local knowledge stating he knows the area Steve lives in. This knowledge positions Ramsey as a particular type of expert, one who lives in the area and does not base his expertise on theoretical knowledge, but on being local and knowing the down-to-earth economy; he is an expert who shares practical knowledge that his callers can also share and know. Ramsey uses common sense and local, down-to-earth knowledge as practices to stress he is ordinary, like his callers. There is another way for creating this commonality, which is to stress that Ramsey indeed shares similar life and experiences with his callers. In (10), a caller asks Ramsey’s advice about her husband’s literary aspirations: (10) Marry, New Jersey 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

C: H: C: H: C: H: H: H:

he has written letters, mhm a to different m- magazines reviews, books review, mhm he has even written to different radio stations, nobody answers.no body’s interested because we don’t have a name. Mhm. (0.5) well that’s how I started. (0.6) financial peace. Our first book. I carried it around in of my car. (0.6) and anybody that would listen, I learnI’d go talk about it. So (0.4) he needs to a try to get some (0.4) ah speaking engagement, ((cont.))

The caller explains that she and her husband send letters to literary outlets to try and promote her husband’s books. She complains that since they have no name, meaning since they are ordinary and not known, they do not get answers (10: 1–6).

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During this narrative, the host limits himself to continuers, and once the caller’s story ends, he counters with his story. He presents it as such (“how I started,” 10: 9). He creates a parallel story between the caller and himself: when he was unknown, he carried the book in his trunk, and he pushed the book to anyone who could (10: 9–13). The coda of the story (10: 13–14) is that like Ramsey pushed his book when he was a nobody, so the caller’s husband should. When he advises Michelle on getting the medical insurance, Ramsey also stresses his similarity to the caller: (11) Michelle 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

H:

I think that blue cross I I’m not sure about California blue Cross, it changes from state to state. (0.6) As to their quality. (0.5) Some are lousy, and some of them are excellent. We actually have blue cross here at Tennessee, and I actually am a customer.

Since Michelle is in California, she needs a health insurance provider from her state. Hence, Ramsey mitigates his advice about using the Blue Cross insurance company. He stresses that he uses this company in Tennessee and that they are good. On top of promoting a show’s sponsor, Ramsey uses his experience to advise the caller about a specific product, and at the same time downplaying their differences.4 The last practice to be presented, before moving to analyze non-ordinary callers, is a distancing practice which strangely also creates proximity with the callers. Ramsey is a financial expert, but not all the advice he gives is strictly financial. At times, Ramsey distances himself from the role of a financial advisor (see Goffman 1969 on role-distance): (12) Ashley 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

H:

C: H: C: H:

C:

if you try to do sixty-three different things at once? ((heavy accent)) (0.6) you’re gonna end up fricking stressed out. (0.5) like you try to do remodel while you are pregnant. ((giggle)) (1.6) that’s not a fun d- da- day. (0.5) You’re signing to something ok. that you sign up for. (0.5) So you kind of need to say all right we gonna hold off on the remodel just for my- (0.7) stress management stand point until after my baby comes. (0.7) ok.

4.  Ramsey uses Blue Cross for his company, whereas Michelle needs health insurance for her family. In the U.S.A., private insurance, the one Michelle needs, is far more expensive and suboptimal compared to business health insurance, which Ramsey uses.

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13. 14.

H:

that’s what I would tell you. To do. But that’s more of uncle Dave than it is Dave, the financial counselor.

This excerpt presents various practices, which were described above. The host uses vernacular language (fricking, 12: 2) to deliver his point: the caller should not do too many things at once. When he does, he uses a heavy southern accent (12: 2). He advises her to focus on her pregnancy, and not on remodeling her house (as she asked) and explains that doing too many things at once causes stress (12: 9). When he finishes this advice, he stresses that this is not financial advice (12: 13–14). In this role distance, Ramsey presents himself as a life coach, and during this stage, he presents himself as the caller’s uncle (12: 13). This presentation, as a family member, shows that he can relate to the caller, knows her life situation and experiences, as a kinship relation of an elder uncle who understands her life since he went through similar life experience in his past and he cares for her situation like a family member would. This section presented various ways in which the host presents himself as ordinary. These practices share a central feature: they present Ramsey as similar to the ordinary callers. To summarize, the discursive practices Ramsey uses are vernacular language, presenting his opinions and advice as common sense, and using his personal experiences and stories to show they are similar to the caller’s stories and situations. Additionally, he uses down-to-earth, everyday life details and experiences in his explanations; and finally, in the last segment, he shows that when he does not deliver economic advice, he sets himself up as if he is like a caller’s family member. In the next section, these practices are discussed, again, in two lengthier segments from interactions Ramsey has with two non-ordinary callers. 4. Bring me the poor and the rich, and I’ll make them and me ordinary The last section presented various practices for ordinariness Ramsey uses. As discussed above, he is presented as an expert and at times as a star when he talks with his callers. Most of these callers discussed above are what we can call ordinary or standard callers. Although not shown here, these callers present their problems and themselves as ordinary: they do not show there is something remarkable or out of the ordinary about them, they follow the usual structure of the interaction and do not suggest Ramsey’s advice may not be useful for them. Some callers, however, present themselves as having non-ordinary5 lives; meaning, they present themselves as different from Ramsey’s other callers. These non-ordinary callers 5.  The use of ‘non-ordinary’ was chosen since ‘extraordinary’ may carry a positive stance and ‘unordinary’ may carry a negative one.

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present themselves as such to explain the extra challenge they pose to Ramsey: i.e., they seem to suggest that Ramsey is not supposed to be able to relate to, or at least that his advice cannot relate to, their lives. Using Membership Categorization Analysis (e.g., Fitzgerald and Housley 2002), the radio call-in show usually has a caller and a host as the central categories to it. Fitzgerald and Housley suggested other categories, and Dori-Hacohen (2013) also suggested that in American Talk-Back radio the categories of Star and Fan are relevant. Dori-Hacohen (2012b) suggested that within the Host-Caller categories we can find other categories, of “Regular,” “Returning” and “First-Time” callers, as opposed to the “standard” caller. Even in this categorization work, the callers are usually taken as ordinary people, or citizen, not saying their life is special or out-of-the-ordinary. Moreover, for most of these shows, the callers are taken as “Ordinary” participants or citizens, and indeed the callers to the Dave Ramsey’s shows are also taken as ordinary. However, there are callers who establish themselves as non-ordinary, compared to the “ordinary” callers. This non-ordinary category is part of the “topic-relevant” category discussed by Fitzgerald and Housley (2002). This section presents the positions of the non-ordinary category about the life experiences from the poor caller to the rich one since the prior section presented callers that are in between these categories. Below we start with a “poor” caller, which we do not construct him as a nonordinary caller, but he does so. The caller, Ryan, presents himself as not belonging to Ramsey’s typical audience and their commonplace situations. Here, in an abridged version, is how Ryan presents himself on the interaction on the show. (13) Ryan, Buffalo 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

C:

C:

C:

ahm (0.5) w’ll basically a (0.3) I’ve I’m 23. (0.4) I seem to be in this (0.3) cycle (0.4) um (0.5) I can’t get out of financially. (0.5) I’ve been enjoying your program, at random. for a couple of years now … and a- you know a lot of it, all of the information, (0.5) that I can’t use is simply because of the fact that um (1.5) I’m in a low-income situation. (0.3) today. (0.6) I’m stuck in … I was just wondering (1.1) you know (0.6) my problem is not that I don’t really know °what to do° with mone is just that I (0.7) I can’t get any more than I have now,

Ryan starts presenting himself in a broken-up way: he hesitates, waits, has many pauses and silences, starts using “w’ll” (Schegloff and Lerner 2009), and then he uses repair from “I’ve” to a situational sentence, stating “I’m 23.” (13: 1) This age is the verge of adulthood in the U.S.A. since many people finish college and start their employment and adult life in their early twenties. When viewed against those excited voices of starting adulthood, Ryan presents a more solemn, not to say depressing, view of this age and his prospects.

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Ryan cannot share what he perceives as the usual voices he hears on Ramsey’s shows, although he has been listening to the show (13: 3–4). Ryan presents himself in opposition to Ramsey’s callers since he “can’t use” the information from the show (13: 6) because he does not belong to the right social class (13: 7). He assumes and suggests that Ramsey’s usual callers come from higher economic status, or “situation,” than he does. Ryan’s problem is that he does not share the (usual) problem of “what to do with mone” (13: 8–9). This broken sentence implies that for Ryan, Ramsey’s callers have money and they need advice on what to do with it, whereas he does not have the money. Ryan cannot start using Ramsey’s advice, since he cannot have a security net of three-month expenses (not shown here), and cannot start Ramsey’s financial program. Therefore, Ryan listens to the show and enjoys it, but it is unusable for him since he belongs to the wrong social class (although he would never use this terminology, talk of social class in the U.S.A. is close to being a taboo). Ryan is a non-ordinary caller because he is poor, and this presents a challenge for Ramsey. Ramsey builds his ordinariness on being similar to his callers, yet this caller does not perceive himself as similar to the other callers. Hence, Ramsey needs to make the caller similar to other callers and himself when he constructs ordinariness in his advice. He needs to elevate the caller to the ordinary level of all callers. Here is a bulk of Ramsey’s advice to Ryan: (14) Ryan 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

H:

let me help you with that. Part of um what you’re facing is just mindset. (.) Not all of it. I mean you got some legitimate things you’re facing, but part of it is mindset. When you keep saying things like can’t and stuck and impossible (0.7) in your words (0.4) and you’re only 23. (0.6) Uhm, dude, the whole world is out there waiting on you to give you stuff. I mean and for you to win and and all of that. So everything’s possible and yes you can. And no you’re not stuck. (0.5) So hear that loud and clear. (0.4) I started with nothing when I was 22 years old, and by the time when I was 26, I have 4 M$ worth of real estate. I lost it all cause I was stupid. and I borrowed too much money. But I did that from nothing. (0.4) And ah, you know what the difference was? me and you at that time? (0.5) me a 22 and you a 23? (0.2) was ah really I’m not (0.2) that smart, um I can do math, but I’m not that smart. (.) I’m not brilliant. (0.3) I’m not a some kind of Mensa or something like that. So what was the difference? My parents (0.2) grew up teach I grew up with my parents teaching me that anybody can do anything

In this segment, we see some of the features that were described above. Ramsey uses vernacular language to relate to Ryan: the address term “dude” (14: 5), the empty lists of ‘stuff ’ that the world is waiting to give Ryan (14: 7), the “yes you can”

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(resonating Obama’s campaign slogan), and the emphasis on the importance of word choice in describing one’s situation, since the wrong words can be a barrier to rising above the poverty line (14: 3–5). Then, Ramsey tells a story about himself and compares himself to Ryan (like he did with Marry, Example  10 above). Ramsey tells about when he was 22, a year younger than Ryan and describes how he built a business from nothing and then went bankrupt before rebuilding another business. This story shows that like Ryan, Ramsey had had nothing, and then he succeeded twice. Ryan is supposed to learn from Ramsey’s example to start with nothing and get to be a millionaire. The end of this segment is where Ramsey stresses his ordinariness. Although he is a millionaire, he is not ‘that’ smart. He rejects being brilliant and downplays his knowledge; he says that he ‘can do math’ (14: 14–17). These utterances stress that everybody can do what Ramsey has done and that Ramsey is not special. The element for success here is a twofold process: 1) ‘mindset,’ (14: 2) an individual inner trait that everyone can develop and 2) the family, or ‘parents’ in Ramsey’s case (14: 17), who educate a person to have the right ‘mindset.’ Ramsey promises Ryan that although he is poor, he is not non-ordinary and can become like Ramsey, both ordinary and successful; and although Ryan does not have the right family, Ramsey can replace his family and help him obtain the right mindset. In this segment, we see how the non-ordinary person is promised to become ordinary via adopting Ramsey’s advice and way of living (not shown here). Ramsey creates himself as similar to the caller, with similar experiences and with a similar life situation of starting with nothing (with the difference of having the right parents), and he uses vernacular language to refer to Ryan as his equal. Ramsey seeks to simultaneously raise Ryan and lower himself to the level of ordinary. This ordinariness and success are created oppositely with JC. (15) JC, Los Angeles 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

C:

C:

I am a branch making new listener and currently blown away at the ministry …. I saw the billboard on the 405 and (.) been listening ever since. Bought the e audiobook and it just been blessing. Unique situation. Blessed ahm (0.9) beyond measure. got a- a lot of money. Born into money. …… so I I guess my question is, I guess it’s more of a fear than a than a question, all the callers that I (.) that I hear ah (0.4) day in and day out, they are screaming debts free, anthey’ve all (0.5) learn you know valuable lessons from it hurting them (0.6) ahm and that hurt has taught them the lesson to to correct them move forward … I’m (0.9) fearful that I- I haven’t. h (0.3) been in the position where I’ve been hurt financially because I was literally born into (0.9) ah these circumstances and now (0.2) I’m (0.7) moving forward without those wounds, ahm and and I’m not sure, (0.5) not sure where to

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16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

H: C: H:

go from from here and how to .h to ah (0.7) ahm .h (0.9) in- in the in the vein I’m in. I [he↑ar you. [Does that make(0.4) tha↑t’s make a lo↑t of sense. That’s very wise to be ah afraid of that,

JC presents himself in two ways. We have seen one of these ways before, being a fan of Ramsey’s, when JC states that he is ‘blown away at the ministry’ (15: 1–2). JC also bought some of Ramsey’s offline products and is using them (15: 3). However, it is JC’s second feature that makes him non-ordinary. He presents himself as a different listener (15: 1). He stresses that he hears other callers but that his concern is different from theirs (much like Ryan did, compare 15: 7–8 to 13: 3–4, 8–9). Thus, he constructs himself as non-ordinary6 (15: 4). Unlike Ryan, JC says he is rich (15: 4–5), so rich that he had never been in debt in his life, and therefore Ramsey’s main teaching of getting out of debt has never been relevant to him. He shows he listens to the program by presenting a type of interaction that happens on it (callers screaming they are debt-free, 15: 8–12), before presenting his concern: since he did not go through economic hardships, he may spend his wealth the wrong way. At the end of his presentation of his concern, JC finishes with “does that make-” but before he finishes this question, Ramsey starts answering. Before delving into Ramsey’s answer, even the ending of JC’s concern mimics Ramsey’s ordinary language. As presented above, people need to make sense, and when JC asks Ramsey if his concern makes sense, JC tries to move from his nonordinary privileged position closer to an ordinary position, one that makes sense. Indeed, Ramsey reassures him that his concern makes sense. So, JC’s concern is that he is too rich for Ramsey’s show and advice and that he is too non-ordinary to enjoy the show. Ramsey needs to explain how ordinariness can relate to the rich, and how aspects of his life are similar to JC’s in order to show that the rich are also ordinary (as he is). Here is how Ramsey achieves this ordinariness in his advice: (16) JC (14 continues) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

H:

C:

(0.4) tha↑t’s make a lo↑t of sense. That’s very wise to be ah afraid of that .h and yet ahm (0.3) it it’s- it not something to- that that - can’t be overcome. (0.6) Ahm (0.5) you know, I I grew up in a neighborhood where there w’s about six boys that that lived in the neighborhood right around us, .h and ahm, (0.4) I noticed when one of them (.) went over a certain curb on his bicycle, he fell and busted his head open. (0.5) Ahm so I didn’t have to do that. I learnt from him …. You knohw? Sohh =Right.

6.  JC sounds more “extraordinary” since he is excited and positive about his position, since he makes about 120 thousands dollar a year, unlike Ryan.

150 Gonen Dori-Hacohen 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

H:

I- i- I missed out on that expheriehnce. So darn. ha ha. So a I I mean I think you can do that, by listening to this show. I think it’s one of the reasons people listen to the show. Is they get life’s lessons through other people. But the ahm, (0.4) ah but th- the fear is valid in that (0.5) ahm e y you can kinda be sloppy (0.4) if you’re a little spoiled. …. And let me tell you how I’ve attempted to do it with my children who’re .h ah, you know, my oldest is 26. And she’s kind of sitting what you’re sitting, … she’s facing the same issues.

Ramsey has some difficulties giving JC advice, as is evident from the many repetitions, broken up words, and hesitations. After reassuring JC that he is seeking common sense and that his fear is justified, Ramsey moves to a personal story about his childhood. Personal stories are a vehicle for creating an identity (Gergen and Gergen 1997), and the identity here is ordinary (Sacks 1984), especially when told by an extraordinary person (see Tolson 2001). Ramsey’s story is about riding bicycles in his neighborhood and learning from other people’s mistakes. Both the lesson and the story itself are ordinary and relatable. Moreover, when Ramsey finishes the story he laughs at it, and invites JC to laugh along with him; Ramsey invites JC to indulge with him in the common sense lesson Ramsey took from the story: one can observe other’s mistake to avoid doing them himself (15: 3–8). Learning from others shows that people are similar to each other. Ramsey also brings up this lesson as a reason for JC and other people to listen to the show (15: 10–12). Ramsey explains that listeners learn from the experiences of other people. Ramsey creates a community of people with similar experiences and problems that JC can be part of, although he is richer than the other people. This advice is not complete, as we can see from Ramsey repeating the reassurance that JC’s concern is real (15: 13–14). JC’s main concern is spending his money the wrong way. Ramsey reframes this concern in the vernacular language of ‘being sloppy’ (15: 14) and ‘spoiled’ (15: 15). Countering these problems, Ramsey uses another element to create a similarity between him and JC, the family. Ramsey creates a parallel between JC and Ramsey’s daughter. Since his daughter does not have economic concerns, much like JC, Ramsey can teach JC from his experience with her, and so JC can learn from Ramsey and his family. Therefore, familiarity with families and common life experiences create an intuitive resemblance between Ramsey and JC, or between JC and Ramsey’s daughter. Throughout this advice, Ramsey uses features that were discussed above. He uses vernacular language (darn) and addresses (you know). He uses simple life experiences and down-to-earth comparison (comparing being rich to riding bicycles can be seen as strange). Moreover, he shows JC he can be and is part of Ramsey’s



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family (and by extension community), and therefore he is like him. Therefore, since Ramsey is ordinary, so is JC. The familial resemblance shows that Ramsey uses the same ordinary mechanisms, of ordinary life experiences, for both Ryan, the poor caller, and JC, the rich caller. For Ramsey, life experiences, the family, vernacular language, and common sense are vehicles for showing how ordinary he is, and how ordinary economic and financial success can be. Regardless of the specifics of the non-ordinary caller, rich or poor, he pushes them and himself to the ordinary position. Moreover, this ordinariness is a successful one. This ordinary success concludes our discussion, and I connect this concept with the political ideology of Dave Ramsey. 5. The ordinary success as an ideological ploy This chapter described various practices for the construction of ordinariness. They fall in line with Sacks’s work on the construction of ordinariness in everyday life. When people interact, they invoke experiences that construct themselves and others as ordinary. Whereas the chapter did not focus on the ways callers present themselves as ordinary, various ways in which Dave Ramsey, the host of the show, constructs himself as ordinary were described. The thread of the practices for his ordinariness is his resemblance to his callers. Therefore, he uses vernacular language that shows he is a ‘commoner,’ specifically from the South of the U.S.A. His ordinariness is also constructed by references to country music; he uses ‘common sense’ as the measurement for his advice and his opinions, and urges his callers to use it for their lives; he tells personal stories that are ordinary, like riding bicycles, or pushing his first book from the trunk of his car, to show his life experiences resembles those of his callers; and he uses the family as a common denominator, both presenting himself as the caller’s ‘uncle’ and creating parallels between his family and his callers. Then, we discussed a relational-pair, to use MCA language. The relationalpair is of ordinary-non-ordinary callers. Whereas most callers do not present themselves as non-ordinary, two callers and their self-ascription of ‘non-ordinary,’ either for being poorer or richer than ordinary callers were presented. This relational-pair among callers challenged the host: since he builds himself as similar to the ordinary callers, non-ordinary callers then need to be moved to the ‘ordinary’ category, or Ramsey needs to build resemblance to them and for them as ordinary. Indeed, Ramsey then uses the myriad of practices described above. His use of family was especially strong in the last two calls that were examined with nonordinary callers, explaining that his family is similar to theirs and if he succeeded, being ordinary and all, so can they.

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When Sacks wrote about ‘ordinary,’ he wrote about it from a sociological perspective of creating and understanding the mechanisms that create the everyday. Sacks (1972) also used Membership Categorization Analysis to show how people make sense in their daily interactions. In this chapter, MCA was used for the creating of ordinary-non-ordinary categories for the callers. These insights of everyday life and its construction have much power in our sociological understanding of society. The construction of the ordinary, however, is not in a vacuum. As Goffman (1959) argued, the understanding of the interactional order is an understanding of just one order among many other social orders. Moreover, whereas the every day and the interactional order were neglected until Goffman’s and Sacks’s day, by now, they have achieved a legitimate status of study like other social orders. Hence, so far this chapter contributed to the understanding of the construction of ordinariness in a context that was not discussed before, the construction of ordinariness in U.S.A self-help financial radio call-in shows, and some of the features for ordinariness. The description above is relevant to the constructions of ordinariness in various other social environments. It also sharpened the distinction between the ordinary-non-ordinary categories and showed how the non-ordinary could be manipulated (in the mechanical sense, not the negative one) to getting back to the ordinary. However, this focus, on the ordinariness only at the interactional level without taking other social orders into account, is problematic. The study of the interactional order without its relations to other orders has been criticized (see Billig 1999). The criticism challenges the study of ordinariness without its context, and in these concluding paragraphs, I want to put Ramsey’s ordinariness in its political right context. Indeed, the ‘ordinary success’ Ramsey’s valorizes has a larger ideological and political context. As discussed above Ramsey is a millionaire and an expert financier, and he is extraordinary. He grew up in a family that was part of the real-estate business, and most likely was exposed to financial education and networks from an early age. His bankruptcy had been the result of over-loaning from a local bank, loans which had been then demanded back when the local bank was sold. This experience led Ramsey to build financial self-help and advice on bankruptcy. These experiences are not ordinary: Most people cannot receive loans from banks due to their family network, nor do they receive financial education from their real-estate savvy parents. Ramsey’s growing up, his business, and life experiences are anything but ordinary; they are non-ordinary and extraordinary. However, he preaches he is ordinary and like his audience for one main reason: to espouse his political ideology. His political ideology is a neoconservative one. According to this ideology (e.g., Harvey 2005, Phelan 2007 and for discursive research Shrikant and Mussel 2019), the individual is the person in charge of making financial and economic



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decisions; the individual’s hard work ensures his success; the government is an obstacle to economic and financial growth and success; and only lazy people, or those without the right “mindset,” do not succeed. According to this ideology, a person’s starting point is not a reason for them not to succeed and vice versa, people do not succeed because of their inherited wealth and connections, but only because they worked hard. Any governmental action to create more social equality needs to be rejected as interfering with the free market and with the individual’s ability to succeed. Hence, the individual and his7 actions are the sources of success or failure, and everything revolves around him. This view might lead to seeing the successful individual as unique. However, a unique view of success will contradict the neoconservative ideology ability to spread and convince people of its validity. It is here when Ramsey’s ordinary success comes into the picture. By presenting himself as ordinary, Ramsey reinforces his ideology and reassures the callers that they can succeed within the neoconservative ideology. If economic success is unique (as Ramsey’s biography might suggest), then callers have little chances in succeeding themselves, however, if economic success is ordinary, as ordinary as Ramsey constructs himself to be, then everyone can be successful. Ramsey uses ordinariness to nullify both the interactional power imbalance that comes from his being a host that gives callers advice and the financial imbalance of a millionaire advising non-millionaires by promoting the neoconservative myth: everybody can succeed regardless of who they are since success is ordinary. In Ramsey’s world, as he constructs it in his shows, being a millionaire is ordinary, and being a millionaire is being successful. Hence we can all be millionaires and successful by living our ordinary life. This chapter only discussed the practices of constructing ordinariness in his shows; this conclusion, though, pointed to the risks of staying at the discursive levels without understanding its ideological and political consequences. For Ramsey and the neoconservative ideology, individual success is ordinary. Hence ordinariness is used to reinforce a societal view which is based on the individual and their actions while limiting the responsibility of the society to each of its members. The study of ordinariness (and other interactional structures) without its context may lead to promoting this view, and my conclusion comes to run counter to this individual perspective, since as Sacks, following Goffman, wrote, societal structures create the ordinary and not vice versa.

7.  This ideology is a masculine one, therefore it oppresses women and I omit the ‘or her’ from its discussion.

154 Gonen Dori-Hacohen

Acknowledgment: I would like to thank Matthew Ross for his comments and revisions to this chapter and to Bracha Nir for her useful suggestions. The remaining shortcomings are solely mine. I want to thank SBS FRG Matching grant and The University of Massachusetts Fellow Research Grant for the help in collecting and transcribing the data.

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Ordinary science Rony Armon

University College London, UK

Science journalism entails an orientation to the interests and understandings of ordinary audiences. The key challenge for journalists is to present the research reported as newsworthy and translate complex findings to understandable terms. This study examines interviews with scientific experts conducted in the Israeli current affairs program London et. Kirschenbaum, focusing on discursive strategies used by presenters to align with the interests and knowledge of their audiences. The doing of “being ordinary” emerges as a key resource for allocating the translation of scientific knowledge between expert guests and the presenters themselves. In doing so, they are shown to shift between knowers or ignorants of the topic reported in a way that reflects their public personae and their task of making science accessible and relevant. Doing ordinariness appears to involve translational, epistemic and biographic dimensions that resonate with the interactional but also broader contexts in which reporting takes place. Keywords: Ordinariness, Science Communication, News Interviews, Conversation Analysis, Epistemics, Biography

1. Science and the public Scientists’ need for publicity, legitimacy and political influence, their wish to engage in policy and counter anti-science movements have led to growing investment on the side of researchers, university and scientific associations in communicating their studies to the public. Their popularization activities are seen as a positive contribution to the public’s understanding of science, as fulfilling a moral debt to society and as a useful promotional effort (Peters et al. 2008; Dunwoody, Brossard, and Dudo 2009; Tsfati, Cohen, and Gunther 2011). Though science is communicated via a plethora of face-to-face and media channels, journalists remain the key gateway to the public. As a result, scientists are often encouraged to help journalists in reporting research due to theirs and the public’s limited understanding of basic science (Van Eperen, Marincola, and Strohm 2010). https://doi.org/10.1075/pbns.307.07arm © 2019 John Benjamins Publishing Company

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But despite growing appreciation among scientists of their interactions with journalists (Albaek 2011, Peters 2013) they are often perceived as hyping research and misrepresenting the way that science actually works (Claessens 2008, Besley and Nisbet 2013). Scientists are often advised to present their research in an accessible manner by focusing on key points, using analogies, avoiding jargon and building explanations as engaging stories (Nisbet and Mooney 2007, Kapon, Ganiel, and Eylon 2010, Olson 2015, Baram-Tsabari and Lewenstein 2017). Yet scientists and journalists still communicate in different terms with the latter often covering a variety of topics with limited time and ability to engage the detail and nuance of each discovery (Van Eperen, Marincola, and Strohm 2010). Their search for clear and certain facts and information that would be relevant to their readers (Clegg Smith, Friedman Singer, and Edsall Kromm 2010) often contrasts with the qualified, abstract and technical formulations which are typical of scientists’ texts and talks (Clegg Smith, Friedman Singer, and Edsall Kromm 2010). The live broadcast interview presents a unique challenge in the context of science communication. In preparing a print article or a news bulletin journalists can select and rephrase scientific arguments to produce concise excerpts and newsy soundbites (Verhoeven 2010, Clegg Smith, Friedman Singer, and Edsall Kromm 2010). But the successful outcome for an interview depends to a large extent on the collaboration and interaction between hosts and guests. While interviewers are expected to control the talk topic interviewees can shift the agenda, evade uncomfortable questions, or contest interviewers’ presuppositions (Clayman and Heritage 2002; Weizman 2008). Scientists are often treated as having privileged knowledge regarding their topic of expertise (Montgomery 2007, Albaek 2011). But there is no guarantee that they will introduce the study in ways that resonate with the scientific understanding of ordinary people. This study explores the ways by which science is made relevant to news audience by examining scientific items from the Israeli program London et. Kirschenbaum. The analysis builds on an extended study of this program (see Section 3) and uses conversation analysis with the notion of “doing ordinariness” (Sacks 1984). Sacks argued that instead of thinking of ordinary persons as some type or average we need to think of the doing of ordinariness as the way somebody constitutes oneself as such. The doing of “being ordinary” does not follow given rules of behaviour but builds on one’s understanding of how “any” person would be expected to behave and respond in the relevant situation. This concept is used to examine how presenters of this program manage their interactions with scientific experts to ascertain that the reporting on research responds to the interests, concerns and understandings of ordinary audiences.



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2. Ordinariness and popular television Popular TV programming is often based on similarities with the anticipated worlds of ordinary viewers, indexed by the mundanity of concerns and locations, presentation style and the people included within these programmes (Bonner 2003). Life style, makeover and reality programs tend to focus on domestic or personal concerns such as cooking, gardening or shopping and observe or test participants in the fabric of their homes or communities. Popular chat shows are often set up to mimic the living room sofa in which the TV set is conventionally located and position speakers as ordinary people even when reporting extra-ordinary experiences (Shattuc 2014). The success of the genre led to the proliferation of ‘issue-based’ shows (Thornborrow 2015) which foreground lay persons to tell their stories of bad relationships, abuse, and other forms of social and family trouble and reveal difficult feelings for experts and public scrutiny (Lunt 2008). While some authors criticize chat-shows as exploiting participants’ vulnerabilities (Illouz 2003, Quail, Razzano, and Skalli 2005) others argue for their setting-up as a fora for public, even political, discussions. By this view the co-operative doing of ordinariness can foreground marginalized voices, highlight domestic violence and racism, and hold social institutions to account for not responding to psychological and social needs (Gamson 1998, McNair, Hibberd, and Schlesinger 2003, Furedi 2004). Ordinariness appears as a constitutive part of what Bonner termed as “ordinary television” (Bonner 2003) that excludes news and current affair programs. Yet Tolson and others identified ordinariness as a practice in all forms of broadcast talk (Tolson 2006). Political interviews often depart from the conventional question and answer interrogation on the affairs of the day towards the personal concerns of the interviewee who is expected to demonstrate openness and authenticity (Tolson 2006, Ekström and Patrona 2011, Fetzer et al. 2013). The growth of interactional formats connecting ordinary persons with politicians or experts through studio interactions, texts messages, phone-ins or social media (Hutchby 2006, Thornborrow 2015, Chadwick 2013) blurs the boundaries and extend the realm of ordinary television to various formats of current affairs. Ordinariness is no longer limited to specific genres, topics or ways of speaking about these topics but needs to be seen as a discursive practice that crosses media genres (Tolson 2006). But while ordinariness has become a constitutive part of media discourse, its enactment resonates with genre-specific constraints and the specific conversational context that each program establishes (Fetzer and Weizman 2017). Even within the genre of the popular chat show different programs establish different positions for presenters, experts and ordinary people. While personal accounts form the key interactional resource, some programs privilege layperson’s stories to the arguments and evidence that experts put forward (Livingstone and Lunt,

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1994; Simon-Vandenbergen 2007). And yet, other programs prioritise the experts by eliciting their advice after lay guests’ accounts thus enabling the experts to scrutinize guests’ behaviours and decisions (Shattuc 2014). The proliferation of talk-genres extended the forms for the discursive positioning of official experts, ordinary people and the TV or radio host (Thornborrow 2015). While previous studies focused in the main on advice-giving programs this study focuses on the hard news context that primes the authority of the scientific expert and the newsworthiness of the research he was invited to report. 3. London et Kirschenbaum The data for this study were taken from a corpus of 150 naturally occurring recorded and transcribed studio interviews conducted in Hebrew on the current affairs talk-show London et Kirschenbaum from 2009 to 2011 (Armon and BaramTsabari 2016). The program was hosted by veteran journalist and presenter Yaron London and was co-hosted by the late Moti Kirschenbaum, a former director-general of the Israel Broadcasting Authority (IBA) and one of the founders of Israeli television. Aired on a national commercial channel in Israel (Channel 10) between 2002 and 2019, London et Kirschenbaum developed as a highbrow pre-primetime news magazine (Hamo 2015) which was one of Israel’s key agenda-setting news broadcasts. The show interviewed Israeli politicians, public figures, artists and scientists, and often ended with a musical performance. The show was a regular winner of the Israeli Television Academy Award in the current-affairs category and London and Kirshenbaum won the Work Life Excellence Award by the Israeli Journalists’ Association for their role in this program. The program then, was largely built around the public persona and media profile of its anchors. In addition to his founding role, Kirschenbaum initiated the first political satire on Israeli television (1974) and became a leading producer of news and documentaries. London had an extensive career as a talk show host, a documentary film-maker and a print journalist and publicist. Prior to hosting London et Kirschenbaum he led a host of talk shows focused on current affairs, cultural affairs and even a children program on science and exploration. In his multitude roles London appeared to some as the inquisitive public intellectual while to others as an elitist and a too vocal interviewer who prioritises his interests and view-points to those of his guests. As highly experienced and old-age anchors London and Kirschenbaum tended to assume a highly knowledgeable position when coming to discuss the affairs of the day. They became famous for its ironical style of presentation, mainly in political issues with which they could present historical familiarity and being



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up-to-date. This knowledgeability was to a significant degree the source of the irony in the program as anchors often presented themselves as familiar with the interviewee, his political game and power relations. They allowed themselves to be angry, opinionated, make mistakes, dance and sing with invited artists, question a topic’s news value (Persico 2005, London 2014) and treat politicians as experts or with contempt (Hamo 2015, Kampf and Daskal 2011). As a result, they were often praised or criticized for their mix of highbrow, playful, hyper-intellectual and cynical modes of conversation and interrogation (Persico 2005, Rosen 2006). It is not surprising then, that the program was identified as exceptional in terms of its quality coverage of science and technology topics as well (Barel et al. 2015). My talks with the program’s team revealed their interest in scientific issues and their perception that their audiences share these interests. They interviewed experts from various disciplines but distinguished accessible topics, such as biology, medicine and psychology from the theoretical topics such as particle physics which appear as less relevant and harder to communicate (Armon and Georgakopoulou 2017). Despite the favorable treatment of science as suitable for this quality program, presenters often had to engage complex topics for which they had little time to prepare or police experts with whom they had little familiarity. The program carried a mission of informing audiences in daily affairs and beyond and as being an island of serious news in a sea of light-entertainment and rating-chasing television. With 5–6% regular ratings, the program team understood that they have a cohort of regular viewers that they serve well. Science played a unique role between news and entertainment. The bulletin’s structure was generally threefold, starting with hard-news about the main political story of the day, following with a slot about social affairs such as education or health, and leading to “softy” interviews with writers and intellectuals about cultural or literary events (Armon, Barel Ben-David, and Baram-Tsabari 2017). Scientists were often invited as commentators for general topics, and yet new discoveries were reported as a part of the softy spot. London specified in his biography that they did not chase the headlines and tended to question the news value of items that set the agenda in other news programs (London 2014). And yet, rating was a concern for their channel's news company. When the program was scheduled before the main evening news bulletin they were asked to end with a light tone so that viewers will stay to the following program. Thus, science needed to be introduced in a way that will speak to the program’s viewers but will not send them away to competing channels. This mode of highbrow entertainment was mainly achieved by presenters’ style and personae. London, the leading interviewer in general and in scientific items in particular, retained his regular position as public intellectual, introduced the discovery as reported in academic press releases, and focused his questioning on the science

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and related methodological and philosophical questions. Kirschenbaum, on the other hand, played the role of the lay-person who does not wish to become too entangled in details and searches for immediate applications and relevance (Armon, Barel Ben-David, and Baram-Tsabari 2017). In conducting the interviews, they often played-out the gap between the hyper-intellectual London and down-to-earth Kirschenbaum who needs to intervene on the side of viewers to grasp the topic at hand. The treatment of scientific experts emerged as more deferential than that of politicians as observed in other programs of news and current affairs (Montgomery 2008, Albaek 2011). Scientists were often granted the floor for extended narratives, explanations and expert advice (Armon and Baram-Tsabari 2016; Armon and Georgakopoulou 2017). Yet on many occasions, the presenters rather than scientists defined the problem to be discussed or the terms to be used (Armon 2017a; Armon 2017b). While previous studies of scientific interviews in this program focused in the main on scientists’ turns, this chapter zooms on the presenters and their modes of speaking and interaction. Their doing of ordinariness emerges as a set of strategies that are useful for allocating or negotiating the task of translating research to viewers. Their ways of acting ordinarily will be shown to respond to the public personae they projected and their trouble in handling science news. 4. Analysis The analysis of interviews revealed the doing of ordinariness as a recurrent practice exploited by the presenters in communicating research. The study suggests three key dimensions in their doing of ordinariness: A translational dimension, an epistemic dimension and a biographical dimension. The translational dimension refers to the allocation of the translational work, that is explaining the research reported and demonstrating its newsworthiness. In the items presented in section one presenters will be shown to state various levels of ignorance in a way that allocates the explanation task to their expert. By contrast, the examples in section two demonstrate cases by which interviewees assume the role of explainers by evoking common-sensical perspective on the topic reported. The comparison of examples in both sections will be used to demonstrate the epistemic dimension involved in doing ordinariness, as presenters position themselves on various levels of topical understanding that allows or forbids them from acting as experts. Section three will focus on cases where the presenters place themselves as the likely beneficiaries of the research reported. This section will demonstrate the biographical dimension, showing how their own public personae came into play in showing that science can be relevant to anyone.

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4.1 Knowledge and ignorance The positioning of anchors as ordinary people reflects a balance between two tasks in the presentation of the scientific items. The first task is that of setting-up of the item as newsworthy and relevant to the program’s audiences. The second task is the translation work that is needed in order to explain the topic at hand. London, who is introducing the following items, orients to an understanding of the audiences as interested in basic research but as having minimal understanding of its contents. By tackling esoteric topics while downgrading his and Kirschenbaum’s level of understanding London aligns with the ordinary viewer of the program and his likely level of interest and understanding. Example 1.1 is taken from a discussion of the work of Israeli Professor Ada Yonat, Chemistry Nobel laureate for 2009. Yonat earned the prize for her discovery of the structure of the ribosome, a crucial component of the living cell. The exchange between London and Kirschenbaum follows immediately on an insert from a press conference given by Yonat earlier in the day (see Appendix 1 for transcription notation): Example 1.1 Nobel for Ada Yonat, 7.10.09 1

YL.

2 3 MK. 4 5 YL. 6 7 8 9

hhh. > eh we have to understa↓nd  until until the evening we have must understand what is a ribosome< at least say (..) hh. something hhh. Professor ((name)) is an >expert of crystallography of proteins and structural biology< (4 lines of transcript omitted) So what what did Professor Yonat discover

London places the need to have some idea about the ribosome, as calling for some efforts or commitment. And yet he does not engage with any detail relating to the ribosome or Yonat’s research but allocate this translational task to their guest who will be introduced as expert in the relevant field of research (not shown). This allocation is performed via a short exchange (matched with a close-up) between the anchors in which Kirschenbaum’s “agreement” is secured (l.3). By using the collective “we”, the presenters blur the boundaries between themselves and their viewers (Dori-Hacohen 2014) and situate all as people who must be informed about the ribsome. The irony in the necessity implied resonates with the reputation of the show as a quality platform in its treatment of both science and

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current-affairs. Short exchanges such as these were often played out to enact the need to be informed while allocating the explanatory role to the guest alone. Whereas in Yonat’s case the presenters followed on a leading news story this was not the case with less familiar events. Example 1.2 is taken from an item celebrating the winning by an Israeli mathematician of the Fields Prize. Though the prize is prestigious among mathematicians it did not gain the public prominence of the Nobel Prize and is not widely reported. Accordingly, this topic is introduced as one that is irrelevant to most viewers. The interviewee is introduced as a mathematician but also as having some political background that may enable him to explain the math to ordinary human beings. He responds by contesting, though in an amused tone, the distinction between mathematicians and human beings (l.1–2). In his response London highlights mathematics reporting as a significant challenge for their work as journalists: Example 1.2 Fields prize, 19.8.10

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Sc.

I’m just objecting to the distinction between mathematicians and human beings↑ (laugh) YL. Ah he he >no eh look I wanted to start by saying < hh. look we eh being journalists that speak to people from differe:nt disciplines hh. we sometime try to understand what biologists are saying (..) (we) understand ↑ hh. more or less hh. what economists are saying (..) more or less (we) understand (..) We do not understand what mathematicians are saying hh. so if you will succeed in explaining to laymen to dumbs like us hhh. that obviously filled our hearts with (..) eh > with all this filth and repulsion< wi:::th a wonderful feeling this morning hh. If you succeed (..) we will kiss your skullcap↓ Sc. We:ll I I definitely I I’ll try (.) though I have to say that I will need to round corners↑ because to really understand what that he did↑ (one) needs to study few years and put lots of work and effort

In his extended response, London is drawing a distinction between science topics that he and Kirschenbaum may understand, and mathematics, which they’re too dumb to confront. At the same time he contrasts regular news topics, referred to as full of filth and repulsion (heb. Kol ha’schi ve’ha’maos ha’ze, l.9) to the pride that anchors feel when hearing about the Israeli laureate. But though they celebreate his achievement London states their total inability to explain its scientific essence thus allocating the translational work to the interviewee and to him alone. In contrast with the reports on prizes and accomplishments, the following interview does not report any specific outcome. The topic is the search for the Higgs Boson in the Large Hadron Collider at CERN and is focused not on discoveries but on what scientists seek to achieve. The anchors followed this topic with the same expert who is an Israeli scientist who works at CERN in previous items. As above, London presents himself and Kirschenbaum as having very limited grasp of the topic but uses previous occasions to build a trajectory whereby they, and their guest, attempt to get some idea about the particle. Collaboratively, they build

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a story that establishes the search, rather than the actual finding, as worthy of the viewers’ attention: Example 1.3 CERN study, 31.3.10

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

YL.

Sc. YL. MK. YL.

Sc. YL. Sc. YL.

MK. YL. MK. YL. Sc.

E::h eh > occasionally we interview you< so that we::: along with you (.) hhhh. Look for the:: particle e::h Higgsss= Correct= And Higgs Boson Higgs (..) Bo the Boson Higgs↑ that does not want to appear hhh. For two years↑ or three↓ > we talk with you< (.) We still don’t understand what is the particle Higgs↓ hhh. Probably we will not understand ever↓ (..) hhh. Probably↑ the model↑ (..) the:: e::h the normal or common ((one)) for the structure of the atom = °Standard° ((model))Even that the standard even that we will not succeed in understanding hhh. [laughs] [But we] love↑ (..) to to handle↑ scientific questions↓ and get close to them (..) hhh. and to fill↑ that we:::↑ have the:: (.) [That is such] [Fing:er] on the pulse [°of°] [that’s] such a pleasure not to understand((−-----)) no I don’t [don’t understand anything] [Yes yes that’s ]a spiritual uplifting

The extended opening introduces presenters as participants to the search for the elusive particle. London presents a desire to get close to the topic which he presents as one they may not be able to understand. Though their epistemic stance (Heritage 2012) is similar to that in the Fields prize item, the qualifying modals (still don’t understand, probably we will not understand, l.8–9) leave open the possibility of at least approaching some understanding of the goals of the study. Kirschenbaum appears to disalign with the message of this monologue by commenting, ironically, on the pleasure of not understanding (l.18–19). As with London, the scientist orients to Kirschenbaum’s position and uses his irony to present himself as lacking understanding and play along with the journey narrative that London was drawing (l. 21). The developing exchange shows how both presenters and guest align with the ignorant lay-person but here as in the items above the the explanatory task is allocated to the expert alone. 4.2 Science and common-sense Ordinariness was often played-out not for allocating the explanatory task to the scientist but as a way of taking part in this translational work. Rather than aligning with an ordinary person who has little familiarity with the talk topic anchors evoked a common-sensical understanding that experts, they and viewers

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can share. The following excerpt is taken from an interview with a health expert that is invited to discuss her research on attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). The presenters do not introduce the study as such but not because it is too complex. On the contrary, they focus on ADHD as seen on school premises as a familiar occasion and use this familiarity to evoke a sceptical tone. The talk topic is introduced via a hypothetical scenario that presents the events as recent and ongoing ‘year to year’ (heb. Mishana le’shana, 1.1). Shared by the interviewers this small story (Georgakopoulou 2007) frames attention disorders as discipline issues rather than as a medical syndrome: Example 2.1 ADHD at babyhood, 9.8.2011 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

YL.

MK. YL. MK. YL. MK. YL. MK. YL.

Ah (.) year to year the children that appear, with all kinds of symptoms are multiplying.hhh that (.) enable them easier exams (.) This one is dyslexic, and thi:s one cannot sit on his butt because he er, every year this (…) this rate is increasing Mhm. I don’t know if it is really increasing= No, we when we were kids we also exploited it a lot= Oh, (..) but it did not have all kinds of names = No names, but [we exploited it] [Yes we simply] simply [skipped classes] [We exploited that yes] Now the question (..) is why. Is that a matter of tint (…) sour social habits?.hh Can the strong hand of a good teacher er.hhh er er overcome these problems or is this issue really genetic

Rather than addressing the audience or the expert, the topic is introduced as conversation between presenters. London does not mention ADHD but refers to a collection of familiar behaviours as relevant (‘dyslexic’, ‘cannot sit on his butt’, ll.2–3) and casts doubts on the reality of their incidence (‘I don’t know ‘, l.5). By indexing hypothetical children within the deictic space of the talk (‘this one  … and that one’; heb. ze … ve-ze, ll.2–3) he presents “them” as a general and familiar type of kids that are just looking for easier exams. Kirschenbaum “backs” this account by occasioning of a school-days “recollection” of their own pranks. While admitting genetic tendencies London presents “sour social habits” (l.11) which “the strong hand of a good teacher” (l.12) could overcome as the plausible causes. The generic element in these snippets (Carranza 2015) builds on listeners’ familiarity with similar behaviours and supports the plausibility of the account proposed. The study reported in this item examined predictors of ADHD available at babyhood rather than at school age. The researcher interviewed identified affected children at school age but focused in the main on their earliest health records. The focus on school settings then is not related directly to the talk topic but to the ordinary setting in which ADHD is identified and where diagnosis generally begins (Bailey 2013). Accordingly, the focus on school children and their sceptical tone

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should be seen as a way of aligning with public controversies about the causes and diagnosis of ADHD (Horton-Salway 2011, Bailey 2013). As noted (Montgomery 2007) broadcasters often evoke common-sensical perspectives to accommodate expert views with the “assumed ‘lifeworld’ of the broadcast audience” (p.176). The opinionated presentation is clearly different from the ignorant position that the presenters established when discussing particle physics. Studies of science news showed that reporting on particle physics often follows closely on research activity and is led by scientific experts (Rödder and Schäfer 2010). Both London and Kirschenbaum seem to align with the presentation of particle physicists as mainly engaged with basic research, working with highly complex science and relatively secluded from worldly affairs (Leane 2007, Mellor 2012). Rather than trying to demonstrate any form of relevance to daily life London aligned with this position and attempted to present the quest for the universe’s mystery as “newsworthy” or at least as worthy of viewers’ attention. In contrast, ADHD is often discussed in ways that involve common-sensical reasoning with parents, opinionated citizens and experts from varied domains (Horton-Salway 2011). The upgrading or downgrading of epistemic position by interviewers emerges as an alignment with popular understandings of the topic discussed. But as the next example illustrates the ordinary behaviour was often triggered by the complexity of the science discussed. The item discusses claims for a recent discovery of dark matter particles. The following exchange developed following the interview opening during which the scientist introduced and explained an experiment that identified evidence for collisions between particles. The excerpts demonstrate an effort to simplify or make relevant the explanation that the interviewee proposes. The discussion developed after he introduced the astrophysical context that is considered by scientists as supporting the existence of dark matter: Example 2.2 dark matter, 21.12.09

1 YL. 2 3 Sc. 4 5 6 7 YL. 8 Sc. 9 YL. 10 Sc. 11 12 13 14 YL. 15 Sc.

Now what is the theory↓ W- > (.) why there has to be dark matter (…) The:: the the (…) idea that ((it)) exists there has to be a dark matter came to us from the:: °mmmm° our understanding of the structure of galaxies hh. the galaxies are huge chunks of stars (..) h. and these chunks are turning around (..) Spinning= Spinning (.) and the speed of their spin of the galaxies like the [gal]axy [Yes] that we see here in the picture is too high hh. we (.) look at a picture like that count h. how many stars there are mea((sure))- > mea((sure)) wei- > weighing their mass and measure the spinning speed of the stars and we find to our amazement h. that the star are spinning to fast h. Yes= and eh supposedly they should have been flying all over=

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The interviewee explains that the existence of dark matter was deduced from the structure of the galaxies that spin at high velocity where the stars should have flown in all directions. While the scientist is given the floor for an extended explanation his turn is closely monitored by London who suggests a more accurate term to describe the spin (heb.mistovevim; l.7) and takes-over the completion of this explanation by proposing an analogy with a familiar situation: Example 2.2 dark matter, 21.12.09 (cont.) 16 17 18 19

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

YL. Sc. YL.

Sc. YL. Sc. YL.

Sc.

Because of the centri[fugal force] [Because of] the centrifugal [force] [Like te] a stone that we turn around with wire↑ around the ha:nd↑ hh. we say (..) something stronger (.)

has to be in my hand (..) to be able to hold them (.) [otherwise] [Correct] they would have to fl:y°yy° ((of)) Correct and [the] [So] in my hand there is probably some substance bi ((bindind)) (.) that is binding them (..) Correct-

London’s intervention can be seen to be composed of two main parts. In the first, he explains the movement of the galaxies’ spin as controlled by the centrifugal force (heb. Ha’Koach ha’centrifugaly, l.16) which the interviewee ratifies (l.17). London immediately follows by offering an analogy to a familiar exercise of turning a stone bound by wire to the hand. While he foregrounds and even taps on his hand the determiner in “the hand” (heb.ha’yad, l.19) and the collective “we” (Dori-Hacohen 2014) indexes the activity as such that the speakers and the audience are familiar if not experienced with. In that way, the explanation is presented as one that is likely to satisfy ordinary viewers with ordinary intuitions about force and mass. But while the scientist ratifies this explanation and attempts to resume his explanation (l.38), Kirschenbaum initiates a side-comment frame signalling that the explanation was not as down-to-earth as his co-participants may assume. He comments that he misses the ribosome item (l.33–34) suggesting that London’s formulation is even more complex. “Oo:ah” (l.28) is a vernacular expression signalling being impressed by a prior, usually visible, action. But while London suggests that his explanation is not complicated (l.37), Kirschenbaum uses “Oo:ah”

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ironically, evoking the ribosome to index the complexity of the topic discussed and question the suitability of the explanation to ordinary people. The difference in their positions is played out (l.37–39) as the scientist attempts to regain the stage: Example 2.2 dark matter, 21.12.09 (cont.) 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

MK. Oo:ah [(..) °nice°] SC. [hh. The dark] matterYL. Good↑ MK. Liste:nYL. ((unclear, one word)) MK. I have to sa((y)) I didn’t believe that I will get to a situation in which I will miss the ribosome (.) SC. Hah hah hah ha ha the dark [ ma:tter ] YL. ((is that)) [complicated] ((that’s)) °not complicated°= SC. [the dark matter preci:sely] MK. [Not complicated at all °what eh°] SC. plays here the [part] MK. [Yes] SC. of the hand i:t is that which is holding the galaxies together hh. and prevents the galaxies (.) from tea::ring (.) h. apart (..) YL. Aha= SC. And based on of years of observations of the galaxies eh the the the eh the inescapable conclusion was that h. either the laws of nature as we know them the laws of gravitation are not correct as you have [made] the conjecture MK. [°Ye:s°] SC. h. or that there exists a material that a of new a new ki:nd (.) h. that we do not recognize (.) YL. For how long su((pport)) eh is ((they)) support this theory

While the frame shift took the scientist’s explanation away from the conversation’s “main-line” (Goffman 1974) his laughter (l.36) indexes an attentiveness to the ironical commentary and the evolving banter. At the same time he restarts the discussion of the dark matter (l.38) thus making relevant the just disrupted explanation. When he regains the floor he is able to complete his astrophysical argument by re-using London’s analogy. The accomplishment of an explanation as one that is ordinary, down-to-earth, and suitable for the programs’ audience emerges interactionally from the exchange between presenters and their guest in relation to the talk topic and the framing of the explanations therein. The exchange here differed considerably from that shown in the discussion of the study at CERN. There, Kirschenbaum aligned with London’s ignorant position while here he distanced himself from the explanation that London introduced. His banter evokes a gap between down-to-earth Kirschenbaum and intellectual London that was recurrent in many of their expert interviewing. The performance of knower or ignorant positions emerges as a resource in a context where ribosomes, attention

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difficulties and particles of sorts need to be placed as relevant and understandable to the program's audiences. 4.3 Research and us The epistemic and translational dimensions suggested above can be related to the general task of journalists in communicating research to news audiences. But there is another and more specific element that emerged in this show and is the way by which presenters’ public biographies played out in how they communicated research. During and between shows, both London and Kirschenbaum used their old-age to present themselves as ones who have been around for a while, are familiar with the political game and can afford to break presentation conventions on occasion. In what became a chilling quote following his death, Kirschenbaum stated that they will only “leave the program on a stretcher” (London 2014). Accordingly, in the following examples, drawn from reports on aging research, the presenters refer to themselves as potential beneficiaries of life-extending treatments. The next example is taken from an item reporting on a recent study conducted in an aging research institute. The scientists involved reported their success in extending the lifespan of mice by providing them with a drug that is already in use for other purposes. London introduced the study as an important scientific breakthrough citing its publication in the prestigious scientific journal Nature. Though the study is not reported or discussed in the interview as identifying a miracle cure the possibility is raised by reference to the concerns of presenters about their own life-expectancy: Example 3.1 longevity drug, 7.12.09

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

YL.

Sc. YL. MK. Sc. MK. Sc. MK.

Obviously, the:: (..) the duration ((of)) eh > life expectancy< (.) i:::s (..) hhh. e::h (..) perspective that is a vvvision↑ that’s of interest (..) for us (.) in particular: ↑= °all of us°= For reasons eh ((that are)) obvious: (..) The questio:n but they’re now only with mi:ce↑ whether they’ll be on time for us or no:t↑ °that’s the question° They’re now with monkeys (…) With monkeys already= °yes°= Oo:: ↑that’s getting closer

While London introduces their “concern” to the interviewee (l.1–4) Kirschenbaum states his “worry” that the cure may not be developed quick enough (l.6–7). The scientist who is smiling tells, as some inside information, that the research team now works with monkeys. His response is accepted as affirmation that the move from research to cure is “getting closer” (l.12). By presenting themselves

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as anticipating this progress presenters orient to ordinary “concerns” about lifeexpectancy and aging. The position of ordinary elderlies carries a more urgent tone in the next example where Kirschenbaum demands that the researcher “bring the capsules” (l.35–36). The study reported examined life-style and genetic factors in a group of elderly people and identified genetics as impacting aging more than behaviours. While the item is mainly about the biology of aging, the interviewee is asked about the potential for the discovery of life-extending treatment based on his or similar studies (l.1–4). The scientist frames an optimistic response (l.5–6) by introducing the development of a drug in his project that is about to get to the market in the coming years (l.6–10). Yet Kirschenbaum’s intervention (l.11) presents the scientist’s confidence as insufficient: Example 3.2 longevity & genetics, 20.10.09 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

YL. Sc. YL. Sc.

YL. Sc. MK. Sc. MK. Sc. MK. Sc. MK. Sc. YL. Sc. MK. YL. Sc.

YL. Sc. MK.

Sc. MK. Sc. MK.

Does does it say that we also (..) with the help of scientists such as yourself↑ will be able to find (.) drugs↑  extends life↑ Yes↑= Can we implant such a gene [°for instance°] [I I ] want to say it in a way ((that’s)) even more↑ optimistic hh. There is o:ne drug (.) tha::t eh is based↑ on our research >connected to our research↓ what’s thatyou see what’s [Yo-you know what↑] happening with Assad you see what’s happening to us< Yo[>you’re right one-hundred percent you knowI went on saying that now I want to shorten that< two years three:= Yes= there will be drug number one↓= At least Yaron↑ will could [°benefit from it°] [°One moment what will this drug°] do↓= hhh. The (.) drug↑ this one (.) > actually being produced look< h. there’s a proble:m to-to put out a drug and say that it is anti-aging (.) [because] you need to prove↑ that it is anti-aging [hhh.] [yes] [sure] {5 lines of transcripts, what was shown about the drug} So ok↑ so so it’s already existing↓ why do you need to wait another two years why not get it out today to the market: ↑ (.) Because:: you kn[you know how the Americans are] [Here you said that you proved it] They e::h [they eh they e:::h it takes them time] [Let go of the Americans] let go of phase two phase three bring the capsules

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Kirschenbaum presents the limited time for himself and London and an urgent appeal to the interviewees as one who can witness their aging situation (l.14). He also suggests that London may benefit from the cure based on the projected time-to-market (l.22). By referring to him and London as not having enough time while referencing the regional instability in Syria (l.14; discussed in a previous item), Kirschenbaum projects a sense of urgency that resonates with the worries of ordinary Israelis. When the expert presents the drug as effective but still under clinical testing, Kirschenbaum resents this “delay” using the slang expression “let go of ” (heb.azov, l.35) to demand the capsules now. By placing themselves, alone or in tandem, as likely beneficiaries of aging treatments the presenters can report the topic in an entertaining fashion. But this presentation may also contribute to highlighting the relevance of the discovery discussed. Rather than signalling the discovery as purely scientific or hyping the result as immediately applicable the studies are reported for their potential implications. In that way, the presenters tap into normative modes of biomedical news reporting: To avoid hype but project the research as socially valuable, results tend to be presented as nearing application but with very general indications as to when this will be the case (Haran et al. 2008). By pointing at their aging, and publicly visible, selves presenters highlighted the anticipation of future therapies while presenting the science as accessible and relevant, here and now. 5. Life and presentation The presentation style of London et. Kirschenbaum resonates with shifts in contemporary media discourse towards less formal, more colloquial ways of presenting public talk. To invoke affiliation with viewers, presenters are seen to infuse side-stories with banter, ribbing and anecdotes (Tolson 2006, Fitzgerald and McKay 2012). Yet the detailed analysis of the London et. Kirschenbaum show suggests that orientation to ordinary positions involves epistemic, translational, and biographical dimensions that respond to the topic communicated, its relevance and familiarity. By stating ignorance or assuming knowledgeability presenters modified their epistemic stances (Heritage 2012) in relation to different talk topics. Conversation analytic research on epistemics demonstrated the role of information imbalances in the organization of conversational sequences and that what is assumed to be known to whom is central to how social actions are designed and understood (Bolden 2013: 3). In the context of the expert interviews as shown here epistemic stances emerge as performative components in the doing of ordinary viewer by the program presenters.



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The expert interview is distinguished from the political interview in that experts are anticipated to provide informed comment on the affairs of the day rather than account for their decisions and actions (Montgomery 2008). However, the doing of being ordinary, especially by Kirschenbaum, may have been used to hold scientists to account as well. Presenters of news and other topical programs were shown to use irony as a form of indirect criticism towards guests or related third parties, for their public actions or conduct in the interview (Weizman 2008). Kirschenbaum’s commentary certainly made the scientific interview more colloquial or entertaining. But his irony can also be seen as a way of criticising guests, or his co-presenter, for high-brow assumptions about what ordinary persons are likely to understand and about presenting research with limited relevance and applicability. The doing of ordinariness is often studied as an interactional resource, but here it emerges as closely connected to presenters’ biographies and public personae as well. Conversation analysts tend to ignore speakers’ biographies and focus their attention on the interactional moment. However, Sacks highlighted the doing of ordinariness as the results of a getting “to know what anybody/everybody is doing; doing ordinarily” (1984: 415). This conception suggests a learning process rooted in personal histories, ongoing encounters and public interactions (Rampton 2007) through which people grow to learn and act ordinarily. Though their presentation was usually co-operative London and Kirschenbaum enacted the ordinary person in ways that resonated with the image that each established for himself in the course of their long career: The public intellectual who seeks to broaden the horizons for media audiences (London 2014) or the down-to-earth “Mr News” (Armon, Barel Ben-David, and Baram-Tsabari 2017) who seeks to avoid complications and get to the point. And yet, the doing of ordinariness by the presenters needs to be seen as a joint achievement responding to their lived co-presentation. In his biography, London described similarities between himself and Kirschenbaum in their background and experiences with “hard and soft news, entertainment, documentary filming, opinion journalism and a bit of theatre” (2014: 338). At the same time, he contrasted Kirschenbaum as a confident, practical, and well-connected person to himself who is sceptical and secluded and indulges in reading more than interactions (2014: 339–340). Personality differences, adds London, translated to differences in presentation style: “He hates my talking too much, my tendency to ‘dig’ (heb.Lachfor), and I don’t like his ‘goes without saying’ and his jokes that usually arrive on the right time, but often, just when my curiosity is burning, and take the interview away from its course” (2014: 340). At the same time London identified these differences as crucial for the success of their show, arguing that “without his wisdom and wit, without our improvised dialogues of both speech and gesture, ‘London et Kirschenbaum’ would be just another talk-show.’ (2014: 340–341).

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Scientists are often expected to anticipate the interests and understandings of the public they wish to address and to prepare and frame their messages accordingly (Nisbet and Mooney 2007, Baram-Tsabari and Lewenstein 2017). But while different media genres can be identified by recurrent patterns and constraints, scientist need to be aware of the unique interactional settings in the programs they visit (Fetzer et al. 2013) and how their interviewers mediate between sources and audiences (Reich 2012). Rather than perceiving journalists merely as conduits to the public, scientists need to come prepared for a two-way interaction in which the understanding of the ordinary viewer is negotiated and impacted by program, genre and personalities.

Acknowledgments The data for this study were collected in the course of post-doctoral fellowship granted to the author in the Department for Education in Science and Technology in the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology. The analysis and writing of this paper was conducted in the Centre for Language, Discourse and Communication (LDC) at King’s College London and was supported by a Marie Curie Fellowship granted to the author by the European Union (PIEFGA-2012-329249). The author wishes to thank Ayelet Baram-Tsabari, Ben Rampton and Alexandra GeorgakopoulouNunes who advised the project at different stages.

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Appendix 1. Transcription notation ↓↑ [] Underlining

falling/rising pitch overlapping speech (dahs) abrupt cut off, = marks ‘latched’ utterances indicates emphasis

Pauses in and between utterances were measured and are given as below: (.)

a pause ⩽ 0.1 seconds

(..) 0.1