Barthes’ work, then, provides us with an epistemological starting point for the understanding of textual representation. We will assume that a discursive representation is realised at four levels of sign, code, myth and
ideology. Figure 3.1 represents this idea diagrammatically, but we have noted that, crucially, each level is interdependent, so that signs can only be understood in the context of codes, signs and codes can realise myths and ideologies and so on. These four levels provide a framework within which we can eventually locate the different levels of our text analysis, which range from close examination of the text to a consideration of the discourses that run through them which are connected to the culturally- situated beliefs and attitudes that constitute ideology.
An analysis of the sort I propose does not seek to treat these different levels as entirely discrete. However, it is useful for the sake of complete- ness to envisage that we are building up a complete picture or “map” by addressing relevant language issues at each level—looking at choices of sign, paying attention to the codes in which they operate and moving from there to build a picture of connotation, myth and ideology.
Chapters 8, 9, 10, and 11 will demonstrate what this means in terms of the practical analysis of the BP data. This chapter gives theoretical examples of how sign, code, mythic meanings and ideology can be con- ceived specifically in the case of written language. Not all of the examples I give here were relevant to my data set. In the methodology I propose, an early stage consists of immersion in the data and it is at this point in the research process that relevant language features are identified. It is the data themselves that will drive the identification of relevant features at each level.
Fig. 3.1 A semiotic heuristic for considering written language
The Level of the Sign
When I look at this first semiotic level of sign, I want to consider primarily what de Saussure (1959: 128) calls the “isolated sign” or group of signs. (I will go on to argue that entire representations themselves can be regarded as “signs”.) If we conceive of language signs as “building blocks”, we can discuss the meaning-making potential of individual words or groups of words. This understanding of “sign” encompasses lexical choices of all kinds, and these include, importantly, naming practices. Fowler (1991) discusses how the names and attributions given to both people and events shape how these people and events are understood, and in an exploration of how crises are constructed through language, naming practices are of central interest. Such practices help us to organise our world: “We man- age the world, make sense of it, by categorizing phenomena” (Fowler, 1991: 92). Srivastva and Barrett (1988: 34–35) call attention to the fact that the practice of naming entities is not simply organisation for conve- nience, but can affect action towards the entities:
The process of giving language to experience is more than just sense- making. Naming also directs actions toward the object you have named because it promotes activity consistent with the related attribution it car- ries. To change the name of an object connotes changing your relationship to the object and how one will behave in relationship to it because when we name something, we direct anticipations, expectations, and evaluations toward it.
I have already mentioned in Chap. 1 that my referring to the BP events as a “crisis” says something about my attitude and relationship to the events, the other phenomena with which I would associate them, the theoretical constructs I might use to explicate them (the business man- agement theories I outlined, for example) and the way in which I would wish others to understand them. In writing about crises, the importance of naming strategies directed at both the events themselves and the par- ticipants involved has been frequently explored (e.g. in Butchart, 2011;
Lischinsky, 2011; McLaren-Hankin, 2007). Because of their reach, the media have an important role to play in what events and people come to
be called and this is frequently a site of struggle between the media and organisations’ communications teams.
In the case of the BP data, I researched naming practices of two kinds.
First of these was the naming of the BP events themselves—how did writ- ers refer to them and did this change? This was likely to be a fruitful area for analysis for language research into any catastrophic event. The second type of naming practice concerned reference to social actors—were these identified or anonymous, individuals or part of a group, real or imagined?
In both cases of naming practices, it was possible to trace changes over the span of the data, and these findings are outlined in Chap. 8.
An extension of naming practices concerns the association of an entity (in this case the BP events) with other entities, a process I term “cat- egorisation”. It can be valuable to explore the development of associative relationships through an examination of listings and groupings. Once an individual or phenomenon is named or labelled, it is much more easily placed into groups of other entities with similar characteristics, in a pro- cess of categorisation. The rhetorical device “classification”, as described by Connor and Lauer (1985: 314–315), “involves putting the subject into a general class and showing the implications of the subject’s mem- bership of that class”. We draw inferences about the subject based on the category in which it is placed. Fowler (1991: 58) examines the impor- tance of categorisation in building consensus, and for organising and managing the understanding of reality.
Experience is sorted into agreed categories in conversational exchange, and these categories are then the “taken-for-granted” background in ongoing conversation.
The point that these “taken-for-granted” categories are socially con- structed is made strikingly in Foucault’s The Order of Things (1970: xvi) where he cites Jorge Luis Borges’ hoax classification of animals from a
“Chinese Dictionary”. Borges’ classification of animals begins: “(1) those that belong to the emperor, (2) embalmed ones, (3) those that are trained, (4) sucking pigs, (5) mermaids, (6) fabulous ones”. The sheer unexpect- edness of Borges’ groupings is intended to exemplify that our categori- sations are not objective or natural, but rather agreed and constantly
reinforced through use. The categories commonly used in news writing become a shorthand to positioning individuals and entities, and leading the reader to understand them in particular ways.
News reporting makes a distinction between the categories associated with hard news (politicians, experts, government representatives, business lead- ers) and those with soft news (celebrities, “ordinary” people, occupational groups, minority groups), implying a hierarchy of social positioning … Categorisation is therefore a powerful way of naturalising social divisions and hierarchies that are the effects of cultural and economic factors, includ- ing the institutional conventions of media reporting. (Fulton, Huisman, Murphet, & Dunn, 2005: 249)
The implication of Fulton et al.’s observation is that categories are intended to be understood as relatively homogenous. To take politicians, for example, assumptions are made about characteristics shared by the group, for example, their warrant to speak, their likely knowledge about certain topics, an assumed political agenda. Readers are expected to have a shared conception of what a “politician” is like, built up through media and other texts, and this will affect their understanding of the category
“politicians”.
So the processes of naming, defining and grouping are crucial to how human beings make meaning of their surroundings and communities.
These processes are not neutral acts of organisation, but are socially agreed, and indicate how we choose to or are expected to respond to enti- ties and phenomena. When we conceive of a list or group, we locate enti- ties according to our understanding of the world. This location of a given entity alongside other entities says much about which aspects of their being we perceive to be important, and in what context we wish them to be understood. An analysis of lists, groups or categories involves considering which aspects of our entity are foregrounded in the process of aligning it with other group members. My intention was to explore where the BP events were located in relation to pre-existing phenomena, and whether and how this changed over time.
These three processes of naming of events, naming of participants and categorisation are important indicators of how the BP crisis is constructed
in news media language. In de Saussure’s terms, analysis of these three features over time can show us one way in which changes in the signifier can alter our understanding of the signified.
The Level of the Code
Individual signs can only have meaning within a system, and the concept of “codes” in semiotics refers to the many types of system that provide the necessary framework for our understanding and interpretation of signs.
Since the meaning of a sign depends on the code within which it is situ- ated, codes provide a framework within which signs make sense. Indeed, we cannot grant something the status of a sign if it does not function within a code. (Chandler, 2001: np)
Codes are specific to places and times, but are widely shared within a culture. Because of this, they can appear entirely natural, and so virtually invisible. They provide a set of “rules” to aid the interpretation of signs, and in this way they can both guide and restrict the understanding of texts. In other words, although multiple interpretations of signs are avail- able, readers are likely to find a “preferred reading” (Hall, 1980: 124) based on their knowledge of the code within which the sign is presented, as well as other contextual cues. There are not limitless possibilities for interpretation—we interpret according to the codes to which we have access. Chandler (2001: np) suggests a broad taxonomy for codes.
• Social codes. Language codes of all kinds, including grammar.
Paralanguage, gesture, gaze. Fashion. Behaviour.
• Textual codes. Scientific codes, including mathematics. Genre, aes- thetic and stylistic codes. Mass media codes, including those applica- ble to photography, film, newspaper.
• Interpretative codes. Perceptual codes (e.g. of visual perception).
Ideological codes such as feminism, capitalism, materialism (and resis- tant codes: anti-feminism, anti-capitalism and so on).
Under textual codes are the special codes we recognise as belonging to particular genres. The understanding within newspaper publications of what constitutes a newsworthy story, which I mentioned earlier, is an example of a genre-specific code, but generic codes can be stylistic, structural or technical. We can also include under “codes” the notion of intertextuality or the influence of other texts upon any given text. The implications of intertextual relations are so broad that they can be con- sidered at the levels of sign, code, myth and ideology, but we can practi- cally place accounts of intertextuality at the level of code. This is because the network of other texts and other voices are just one of the systems or frameworks within which we locate, understand and interpret indi- vidual signs. As Chandler writes, “every text and every reading depends on prior codes” (2001: np). There is also a close relation between genre and intertextuality which justifies them being discussed as interdepen- dent theories. One aspect of intertextuality is the concept that prior texts constitute what we recognise as genre, and created texts serve to construct and modify our future understanding of genre (Bhatia, 2002; Johnstone, 2008). Finally, under language codes, Chandler points to systems such as syntax, phonology, prosody and so on as interpretative frameworks. Thus the analysis of grammatical choices and systems can also be located at the semiotic level of “code”. A more detailed account of genre, intertextuality and the grammatical system of modality follows.
Genre
The concept of genre in language texts has been borrowed from that of genre in literature and art. While art forms have long been readily labelled as belonging to a certain genre (cartoon, Romantic poetry, detective novel and so on) considerable recent academic attention has been paid to how institu- tional and other written genres might similarly be identified. I have already assumed broad agreement on the interpretation of a “genre” in my overview of news media genres in Chap. 1. Swales (1990), Bhatia (1993) and Dudley- Evans (1994) suggest that genres can be characterised by commonalities across a range of aspects, including purpose, audience, structure, content and features of style. Bhatia’s (1993: 13) definition of a genre is typical:
It is a recognisable communicative event characterised by a set of communicative purposes identified and mutually understood by the members of the profes- sional or academic community in which it regularly occurs. Most often it is highly structured and conventionalised with constraints on allowable contribu- tions in terms of their intent, positioning, form and functional value. (My emphasis)
More recent writing on genre (Bazerman, 2004; Beghtol, 2001; Bhatia, 2002, 2004; Herring et al. 2004; Kessler, Nunberg, & Schűtze, 1997) has expanded the area of scholarly interest from the relatively narrow
“professional or academic” contexts referred to by Bhatia above to a much wider understanding of genre as a type of text regardless of institutional status. Commonalities of purpose are partly identified through an under- standing of what type of rhetorical act or generic value (Bhatia, 2002) is realised in a text, for example, argument, narrative, description, explana- tion, instruction, persuasion, evaluation. In the area of news media, two particularly prominent rhetorical acts are those of description (in news reports, for example) and evaluation (in editorials and letters). Texts that are primarily evaluative might also feature the rhetorical acts of argu- ment, persuasion or instruction. These overarching rhetorical aims will affect the kind of language choices made within texts.
Defining what counts as a genre can be complex: Yates and Orlikowski (1992: 303) point out that genres exist at various levels of abstraction, so, for example, a business letter is of a different order of genre from a letter of recommendation. Bhatia (2004: 59) proposes a comprehensive hierarchy of genre from genre colony (his example is promotional genres) to genre, defined by specific communicative purpose (e.g. advertisements, book blurbs and so on) to sub-genres, definable by medium (TV, print), and/
or product (car, holiday) and/or participants (business travellers, holiday travellers). An equivalent for our study of news texts would be the genre colony of journalism or news writing, the genres of news story, editorial, feature and so on, with sub-genres by medium (print, radio, TV), “prod- uct” (travel features, movie reviews) and participants (businesspeople, non-professionals). Considering newspapers as a particular type of over- arching genre, Hoey (2001) labels these as “colonies” with embedded
“sub-colonies”. According to Hoey, colonies have the characteristics that
they are not in order and do not form continuous prose. They need a framing context (e.g. a title), they tend to acknowledge either no or mul- tiple authors and have components that may be accessed separately, with many components serving the same function.
Despite varying positions on the study of genre, writers tend to agree that genres are fluid and permeable. There may be prototypical charac- teristics, and these are isolated and foregrounded in texts such as tem- plate letters or CVs, or in spoofs or parodies of film or television genres.
However, most texts exhibit some generic characteristics while remaining unique. Genres are subject to continuous change. Not only does each instance of a text written in a certain genre serve to construct an ever- changing interpretation of that genre, but new communication needs, new technologies and creative play with generic texts all play a part in redefining the generic landscape. The fact that the boundaries of genres are permeable is shown in the prevalence of “genre-mixing” and “genre- blending”: respectively, the former being the overlap between genres (e.g.
business leader reports that have both an informative and a motivational function) and the latter being the deliberate use of two or more genres to create a different kind of text. This is common in many areas, for example, film (the comedy-western, the sci-fi thriller), and advertising and business, for example, advertorials (Cook, 2001; Fairclough, 1995b), and most recently “advergames” (BBC, 2014). Forms arising from new technologies, such as web pages or blogs, may draw on prior genres, such as newspapers, posters or personal journals, but introduce new character- istics that are appropriate to the medium, the audience and the purpose of the text (Herring et al. 2004; Johnstone, 2008).
The importance of an understanding of genre in studies of representa- tion cannot be overstated, and there are two overriding considerations for analysis. Firstly, an analysis of language cannot be divorced from context, be it media language, academic language, business, private, healthcare discourse and so on. The job writers are doing with language and for whom shapes the language in every way. It is an invaluable first step for us to know, as discourse analysts, whether the text we are studying is typical or not of its genre and why it is or is not. This consideration feeds into the synchronic analysis of texts, as the relative dominance of any one genre will imbue the overall data set with its particular characteristics.
The second consideration becomes clear in a diachronic analysis. If a set of texts (a representation) consists of a number of genres (in the BP case, say, news articles, financial reports, editorials, features) then any change in the relative importance of the genres over time will bring with it a change in the language profile. To take an example, editorials are characterised by various linguistic markers constructing a personal and subjective perspective. Hard news articles typically exhibit markers constructing an impersonal and objective stance. An increase in the fre- quency of subjective markers at the expense of objective markers is likely to be due to a generic shift from hard news articles to editorials, rather than to a shift in perspective on the part of any given writer. Thus text genre in the data set will need to be named and identified at a broad level, as well as explored at text level.
Intertextuality
The study of intertextuality explores the relationship of texts with other texts that inform and shape them, and texts that they will in turn influ- ence and shape. As Allen (2011: 1) explains:
Meaning becomes something which exists between a text and all the other texts to which it refers and relates, moving out from the independent text into a network of textual relations. The text becomes the intertext.
The term “intertextuality” and the foundation of the area of study are the work of Kristeva (1980) following principles set out by Bakhtin (1981).
Bakhtin proposed that all utterances (and writings) are infused with the traces of previous utterances, as well as with the anticipation of a response from the audience. Both writers suggest that all texts are dialogic, respond- ing to and being shaped by multiple previous texts of all kinds, and antici- pating the response of either a present or an imagined receiver.
This view of intertextuality suggests that all the texts read, spoken or written by the writer, as well as conventions of genre, and the constraints of social practices are potential influences on any given text. For the purposes of our analytical work, this means finding ways in which to