The social semiotic imagination
The term āsocial semiotic imaginationā, adapted from the influential book by the sociologist C. Wright Mills, is not a technical term, but it captures the essence of the practices I describe in this book. Mills (1959) challenged his readers by connecting imagination with āsociologyā (understood as science with therefore no connection to āimaginationā). For him, āimaginationā was a basic capacity for seeing, interpreting and changing complex social relationships as meanings. He wanted to cultivate āthe vivid awareness of the relationship between experience and the wider societyā (1959: 8). In my adaptation of his concept, those relationships are understood as countless multiscalar networks, starting from details of everyday life and ultimately connecting with invisible social forces and movements such as capitalism, racism and injustice. Millsās sociological imagination made sense of these details as signs. That is basically what social semiotics does, too.
I illustrate this social semiotic imagination with a news story that unfolded as I began writing this chapter. In Oslo, Norway, on Friday 22 July 2011, Anders Breivik set off a car bomb, killing eight people. He then travelled to UtĆøya, an offshore island, and killed sixty-eight others. I was in Australia at the time. I saw the news on TV, read it in print, and followed it up on the net.
I have never been to Norway, but I am a global citizen for whom terrorism matters. In this context I asked: What is the meaning of this senseless act? What meanings drove Breivik to do such a thing? To answer these questions I looked at the smaller component meanings, made up of everyday words and sentences. Minute analysis of everyday acts of meaning is indispensable to address big questions about big meanings, and vice versa.
I knew about this event only through the media. This adds a second object for my semiotic imagination. They are my sole sources for what went on ā āideational meaningsā, as Halliday (1985) calls them. The social role of media, what Halliday calls their āinterpersonal functionā, complicates the uncovering of this deep meaning of the globalized world I live in.
The headline of the first article I read on the theme came from the front page of The Australian, a paper in the right-wing Newscorp group:
1.1 Toll to rise as Norway faces the twisted logic of a mind intent on killing (The Australian, 25 July 2011)
The headline was accompanied by an image of the explosion which killed eight people. In this multimodal newspaper text, key information carried by the visual channel was omitted in the verbal. I used semiotic imagination to wonder why.
In this case I saw a larger pattern. The phrase ātoll to riseā is a transformation of āthe toll (numbers) of dead will riseā. Transformations, a term associated with Chomsky (1957), are rich sources of semiotic questions. Do they think that more people will die, or have they not counted them all yet? Why not mention ādeadā? One effect of this is to shift attention from the large numbers of dead to the āmindā of the murderer, from social issues to individual psychology.
I compared this text with a template I carry in my mind about this theme, in which two terms are structural: āmassacreā and āterroristā. I restore these two problematic terms and ask: Why did this newspaper, known for its links with conservative politics, avoid these potent terms here? This was clearly a āmassacreā, and āterroristā has been applied to many incidents with far fewer deaths. Was it because Breivik was right wing, and not Muslim? At this time I chose not to follow this line into the ātwisted mindā of the right-wing media. The question of Breivikās ātwisted mindā interested me more, part of larger questions about terrorism. What did he mean by this act? To begin to answer this question I took one sentence from his 1500-page manifesto, published online just before the event:
1.2 Once you decide to strike it is better to kill too many than not enough, or you risk reducing the desired ideological impact of the strike. (Breivik, 23 March 2011)
Reading this sentence semiotically, I noted the social meanings. The phrase ādesired ideological impactā creates a complex relationship with āyouā. From Breivikās manifesto I constructed this reader as a āKnight Templarā, as Breivik called his followers in his crusade. I went outside his text to check if these followers really existed. They probably did not. This input from reality then became part of the meaning I gave this text. Breivikās followers existed only in his fantasies. The social meaning was a conversation with himself, in which he split into two, leader and follower.
This meaning is only an inference, my guess. But meanings in social use are typically contested, not fixed and certain, and guessing is normal in semiotics. The immediate context of my interpretation contains two competing sets of meaning, mine and Breivikās ā or, more precisely, my guess at what Breivik meant and my guess about the deeper sense of his statement.
The word ādesiredā illustrates the role of transformations in semiotic analysis. I interpret it as a transformation of an underlying fuller sentence, āyou and I desire . . .ā. In this implied fuller form, āyouā (his imagined Knight Templar reader) and āIā (Breivik) unite in their/our common desire to kill large numbers of people. This is only what Breivikās twisted mind ādesiredā. He co-opts his reader into an imaginary position, as someone outside himself who wants his advice. In my analysis at this point I hold at least two versions of āmeaningā in tension. I am interested in what he āmeansā, but I am also interested in what his words mean to me in my diagnosis of his ātwisted mindā.
This discussion shows three features of the social imagination:
- Big meanings about the state of the world are used to identify signs and instances in the environment.
- Single small concrete instances allow analysis to relate elements to each other and to hypothesized deeper meanings.
- Analysis identifies many questions to investigate further, and to weigh against each other in a complex provisional judgement.
Language, meaning, society
Language, meaning and society are key terms for social semiotics, but they also have meaning in everyday English and in linguistics. In this section I show how social semiotic understandings of them can come from and co-exist with their meanings in other contexts.
1 Language āLanguageā is one of the top 1000 words in everyday use according to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). OED defines language as āThe system of spoken or written communication commonly used by a particular country, people, community, etc.ā āSystemā is part of the definition. So is connection with society, though not with āmeaningā. The OED adds four more strands of meaning. One is modern ā computer languages. The other three go back to the seventeenth century ā ālanguagesā of animals, non-verbal communication, and other human signifying systems.
Mainstream linguistics as represented by the Oxford Dictionary of English Grammar (ODEG; Chalker and Weiner 1998) defines language as āThe method of human communication, consisting of words, either spoken or writtenā. This monomodal theory does not include the idea of āsystemā, unless āmethodā implies it, and it does not refer to society or to social uses of language. Everyday English has a more semiotic understanding of language than mainstream linguistics.
āDiscourseā is an alternative word for forms of language, the defining term in ācritical discourse analysisā. It does not make the OED top 1000 words, but it captures language in action better than ālanguageā does.
āDiscourseā has other advantages over ālanguageā. The American linguist Zellig Harris (1950), Chomskyās teacher, used ādiscourseā to include large stretches of text above the level of the sentence, something mainstream linguistics needed. Halliday used ādiscourseā and ātextā for a similar purpose. Michel Foucault (1971) connected it to bodies of knowledge associated with language, thus opening up the term to a role in analysing the sociology of knowledge. I see no compelling reason why mainstream linguistics should not embrace ādiscourseā.
2 Meaning To my surprise, āmeaningā is not in the OEDās top 1000. OED lists two main meanings for āmeaningā. One is broad, dealing with big meanings: āThe significance, purpose, underlying truth etc. of somethingā. This strand includes āSomething which gives one a sense of purpose, value, especially of a metaphysical or spiritual kind.ā The second strand is more restricted: āThe sense or signification of a word, sentence, etc., of language, a sentence, word, text, etc.: signification, senseā.
OED reflects a split in the field of meanings of āmeaningā. Differences of scale construct a gulf between disciplines of ābig meaningsā, such as philosophy or religion, and small meanings of linguistics. Everyday English includes both kinds of meaning while still registering the gap.
The linguistic ODEG has a surprisingly limited concept of meaning: āWhat is meant by a word, phrase, clause, or larger textā. But what is meant by āmeantā? The definition includes different scales of linguistic form, the scale studied by linguistics plus the scale studied by other disciplines, but not the idea that meanings, whatever they are, may be bigger or smaller.
But, as we saw in the Br...