Speakers Orient

The term “orient” or “orienting” is commonly used in discourse analysis to refer to that which speakers make relevant in their talk, whether consciously or unconsciously. Think of it like “notice” or “understand.” When I orient to something (object, subject, action, emotion, whatever), I am making this a live concern of my talk.

Speakers Index

Utterances are said to be “indexical” in that the meaning depends on the context of its use. For instance, a speaker might be said to be “indexing” to skepticism if the tone of their utterance emphasizes a downward movement suggesting a dismissing action. In the wider understanding, indexicality refers to speakers’ displays of their understanding of the meaning of other speakers’ utterances.

Turn-by-Turn Interaction

Typical conversation or meeting talk is structured according to “turns”: a turn is the conversational “slot” that each speaker fills with their utterance, with the turn structure implicitly understood by speakers according to the circumstances of the discourse interaction. In normal conversation, one speaker takes a turn, which is completed before the next speaker takes a turn. In meetings, speakers’ turns may be controlled by the meeting chairperson. The way that speakers construct and tacitly understand the turn structure of a discursive action is of particular interest to conversation analysts.

Relationally Situated

Something is relationally situated when its location (in time, context, spatial reference, etc.) works in relation with other features of talk.

We start with a brief discussion of the data and its context that forms the topic of analysis. This is followed by the analysis and discussion that shows trust to be a multidimensioned phenomenon, constructed in the turn-by-turn interaction of discourse, and as a relationally situated underpinning construct to KS. In this and all of the following analytic chapters, references are shown as embedded within the text to underline how the analysis and discussions are grounded in relevant research. The chapter concludes with some preliminary reflections. The findings are further discussed in Chapter 17, combined with those from subsequent analytic chapters.

Patterned Sequential Organization

Episodes of discourse—whether ordinary conversation, meeting, or whatever—generally display a pattern of sequential organization—that is, the way that the speakers progress their turns one after the other, which establishes an implicitly understood set of speaker rules governing how, when, and what speakers should contribute. A simple example would be how a speaker’s question generally sets up an anticipation and expectation of another’s answer, so the structure and expected interaction is “question–answer.”

While a substantial part of the meeting follows the patterned sequential organization of “topic announcement,” “participant report,” and “team leader evaluation,” its choreography is marked by regular disagreements—competing accounts of affairs. There are six extracts presented here, five of which orient variously to challenge and persuasion, rivalry centered on competence, attribution, and claims to superior knowledge, all of which are shown to have implications for trust. This, in itself, is not an unusual feature of everyday talk: as Robin Wooffitt, a sociologist at the UK’s University of York, explains in his book comparing conversation and discourse analysis (incidentally, essential reading for those interested), people routinely argue and disagree. He also makes the commonsense observation that disputes cannot be resolved by referring to the “facts of the matter” as it is precisely the facts that are usually in dispute. The first extract serves to set the scene, with participants orienting to their status in the context of the meeting, and a very particular imperative—the need for speed. Each extract is presented in the order in which it appears to illustrate the sequential unfolding of themes, challenges, and respective understanding of context that participants make live in their discourse in interaction.

First Turn Assessments

In his discursive study of leadership, published in 2012, Jonathan Clifton argues that when a speaker claims the first turn in an assessment sequence, that is a sequence designed to provide an assessment or evaluation of what another speaker has just said, for instance, this works on the level of a claim to overriding rights to set and manage the meaning of the discussion as a whole. This, he suggests, is a rhetorical hallmark of leadership.

Reflexively Constructed

When a rhetorical action by an actor has the function and consequence of scripting something or someone as its opposite. For instance, Abigail Locke and Derek Edward, in their fascinating analysis of former US President Clinton’s Grand Jury testimony, show how “(I)in portraying [Monica] Lewinksy as irrational, emotional and motivated by personal problems, Clinton reflexively defines himself , in contrast, as rational , behaving properly…” (2003 : 249).

Steve hesitates over what topic to start with—the extended “ummm,” brief pause, and carefully spoken “Right” invokes a display of searching (Potter, 1998a) among competing topics (Lines 4–6). Bob steps in with a tentatively spoken suggestion formulated as a question with a candidate answer (Potter and Edwards, 2012), orienting to Steve’s control of the “agenda” as leader. Steve’s stretched affirmative (“Ye:: ah”) indexes the candidate answer but scripts reluctance—going through the list would not have been his preferred course of action. Subsequent analysis shows how this actor frequently uses the stretched “ye:: ah” to signal difficulty, disagreement, or reluctance. Instead of producing an alternative course of action, he reformulates Bob’s suggestion, and the “list” becomes topicalized as the first business of the meeting, albeit one to be dispensed with at speed, with its imperative for participants to share knowledge.

Questions with Candidate Answers

When formulating a question, speakers will routinely include a possible answer embedded within the question. Thus, speakers offer a “candidate answer” to cospeakers on the expectation that this will be adopted and issued by the next speaker, in which turns-in-interaction have the effect of scripting consensus and collaboration.

The sense of speed invoked in this extract arguably has an interesting effect on subsequent transactions. In three of the following extracts (2, 3, and 4), the action of argument—competing accounts—is shown to be triggered at the point at which Bob, as the possessor of the list to be “wheeled through,” is attempting to effect topic closure and transition to a new topic. Also, Extract 3 contains a call for a “bigger discussion” on a particular topic. All of this suggests that the imperative for speed is not only creating a tension, but is also being resisted. The normative and appropriate place for topic discussion and comment would be between topic opener and closer. Thus, the action of initiating further discussion on a topic during or after the issuing for its closure indicates troubles, suggestive of dissatisfaction with time allocated to topic discussion, with its inference of a potential for decisions based on less than adequate discussion or debate. There is, in fact, only one instance of argumentative actions taking place within the appropriate topic discussion space, and that is initiated by Steve himself.

A final point to raise is the team’s mutual familiarity: roles are not explicitly established as they are already tacitly known. Thus, the mutual roles are cast and shown to be tacitly understood, the objective of the interaction is made live, and the team’s familiarity with one another made contingent.

Topic Boundary Marker

These are devices that are particularly noticeable in agenda-driven meetings where a participant might use the term “okay” to display closure of one topic, leaving the field open for another to be initiated. Jan Svennevig of the University of Oslo, Norway, has published some interesting work that investigates this action in workplace meetings.

Contrast Devices/Markers

These are rhetorical devices—phrases or single words—which have the effect of marking a contrast between two or more different accounts or descriptions. So, for instance, “I could go to work on Monday but I would rather not.” According to analysis by Ann Widdicombe and her colleague, such devices are usually associated with and used in talk designed to persuade.

Preferred Turns

An account that starts with a weak agreement with the previous speaker, followed by an account that works at variance to this, thus constituting the speaker’s preferred state of affairs.

Footing

Someone is said to shift footing when they change from one stance, perspective, identity, or position to another. Examples include changing from talking about “I” to talking about “we.” For instance, Jackie Abell and her colleague explore how Princess Diana linguistically shifts position from that of her “royal role” to that of her role as a private individual, and with what consequences.

On the surface, the disagreement in Lines 46–57 is over nothing if Steve’s account that “…we’re gonna be getting out of …” (Line 56) is accepted, so why argue? To draw on Clifton’s (2012a ) analysis of trust in workplace interaction, this is about jockeying for position, through making claims to rights to knowledge. But these can only be considered as a form of “trust work” where recipients orient to the knowledge claims as such.

Conditional Propositions

These devices, typically structured as “If X, then Y,” are often used by politicians, according to professor of linguistics Paul Chilton, to make claims to possessing knowledge about cause and effect. Events thus described are displayed as having particular consequences. These can also be seen as a form of factual accounting, based on their conditional predictive attributes.

Empiricist Accounting

This type of accounting is particularly associated with talk that has the design of serving up facts. The term was arguably first used in sociology by Gilbert and Mulkay in their study of the discourse of scientists (e.g., 1984), although they refer to “empiricist repertoires.” Derek Edwards and his colleague argue that such accounts have the action of removing the speaker from responsibility for the facts, framing facts as independent from the speaker and as available “out there” as objective phenomena.

Ade completes his turn with an assessment (“not good”) in the form of an “unhedged” declarative assertion that works to frame accounts as uncontestably in stone (Clifton, 2012a ), which is linked to a projection of future action in what “we might as well” do. “Might” is interesting here because it would usually be associated with scripting a “hedge” or mitigation against criticism in its acknowledgement of the possibility of other candidate actions. However, here, it works up the commonsense nature of what might be done, conjuring a sense of tacitly known background knowledge (Clifton, 2006). Consequently, Ade’s description of affairs is displayed as emanating from concrete facts, with the future course of action cast as a reasonable one that the team would agree to, which reflexively further implicates Steve’s version as having untrustworthy status. Thus, Ade’s is designed to be an acceptable account, based on superior knowledge, orienting to status as trustworthy, and hard to challenge. There is also the suggestion of an invocation of risk—Ade clearly conjures Steve’s version as being risky (“not good”) and with the potential to lead to poor outcomes for the team. Thus, Ade can be said to have scripted himself as unwilling to be vulnerable (Schoorman, Mayer, and Davis, 2007).

Warrant

People normatively use “warrants” and “warranting” to mark something as being satisfactorily explained, according to David Silverman. Simply, a warrant is an excuse or justification for some action. For instance, “I am not able to go to the meeting because I will be in New York”: not being able to go to the meeting is accountable (i.e., requiring an explanation), but comes with a warrant of being in New York, thus excusing the absence.

Steve’s turn in Line 56 is prefaced with the conjuring of a cognitive state (“I think …”), which, in contrast to his earlier stuttered “I-I-I think …” (Line 53) that marks his account as open to doubt, works here as an explicit opinion marker (Chilton, 2004 ). By linking Steve’s two utterances (Lines 53/54 and 56/57), the persuasion work becomes clearly evident as Steve conjures his version of affairs as being more and more authentic, and predictable, with the second part building on Bob’s admission of the existence of “things we may not know,” marking this as a version of affairs that only Steve can predict. The veracity of his opinion—and therefore its trustworthiness—can be seen in his confident emphasis on timescales (“fai::rly rapidly”: Line 57). His claim to privileged access to knowledge also works as a warrant in linking to his earlier stance over “getting off desktops” (Line 46). The risk is downgraded and that which Ade has conjured for group worry is effectively deleted but without challenging its authenticity. Steve, then, claims what Clifton (2012a) terms “epistemic primacy,” scripting self as trustworthy. Ade orients to this interpretation of affairs with his token of acceptance in Line 58. The entire interaction, then, is a delicate balance between offering competing accounts of affairs and sensitivity to others’ concerns displayed particularly by Steve, despite Ade’s initial inferred resistance to the trustworthy status of the latter’s account of affairs.

The following two extracts display disagreement taking a more confrontational and combative turn.

Skeptical Rejoinders

These are linguistic devices that invoke skepticism on the part of the speaker in response to a prior turn at talk and are usually terms that would otherwise have a nonskeptical connotation. The ways in which an utterance can be shown to be transformed into an action of skepticism include a downward movement of intonation, for instance, rendering the utterance as hearably dismissive. Thus, such devices are not neutral and can be linked to taking a position on some topic.

Reported Speech

Speech that is attributed to some other by the speaker is called “reported speech,” and this can be direct or indirect. Direct speech is where the reported words are framed as a direct quotation or citation. It is indirect if the reported words are offered as an approximation or summary or other representation of the actual words spoken. With direct reported speech clearly being the more powerful linguistic device, both are important, routinely used structures in talk. Their effect on both speaker and hearer is dependent on context, but an obvious function is to effect persuasion work or to bolster the factual nature of what is being reported.

Extreme Case Formulation

Originally studied by Anita Pomerantz, extreme case formulations such as “extremely,” “very,” “every,” “everyone,” and so on take an evaluation to its extreme. These devices have multiple functions and consequences. They can “up the ante” of a particular argument; they can be used to “normalize” something that might otherwise be considered to be unusual (e.g., a knife carrying youth explains that “everyone has one,” suggesting the carrying of knives is normative behavior). Jonathan Clifton notes that they can leave a speaker exposed to potential criticism in that all that is required to dilute what is being claimed is one exception, the idea that all swans are white until you find a black one!

The sequence initiates in accordance with the now established sequential organization: Bob issues a topic, which is commented on by the relevant actor, followed by an assessment scripted by Steve. Here, we see a variation. In this instance, Ade receipts the topic issue with his habitual “yeah” and then reports the issue status: no progress has been made, thus bouncing the topic straight back to Bob (Line 78). The latter’s slight hesitation in picking up his slot (“Okay”: Line 80), followed by the start of something more [unfortunately unintelligible], suggests surprise, but nonetheless signals topic closure. The expectation that is established here is that as the topic has not been looked at yet, there will be no need for an assessment by Steve, making a topic transition (Wooffitt, 2005) relevant. What happens next is contrary to this expectation.

Overriding Bob’s attempt to mobilize a topic transition, Steve marks Ade’s response as insufficient by stalling topic closure. His utterance across Lines 81–82 effectively performs power-persuasion: first, he displays rights to prevent topic closure, and then he works to upgrade the task’s importance, which he does using a direct reported speech device. In reporting what the client says (“… every time I talk to a [client] they do go …”: Line 81), he neatly works up a warrant for maintaining the topic and ramping up its potency. It is “direct” in so much as it conjures a quotation of what others have said. Such devices serve to strengthen claims, rendering them more credible as fact (Wood and Kroger, 2000). Note how also, in using what others have said to issue a warrant for his version of affairs, Steve effectively disposes of any personal stake or interest in the version (Wetherell, 2001).

What this also suggests is that Steve acknowledges the need to persuade others on this point, with this persuasion talk directed to Ade. Note that he makes no reference to the task itself, instead invoking the negative consequences of the task not being done. This can be seen as a direct admonishment to Ade: it is his lack of attention to the topic that risks negative consequences, but there is no hint of questioning Ade’s competence, only his priorities. Also note the extreme case formulation prefacing the reported speech (“every time;” Line 80), used here as an instrument to upgrade the “ante” (Schegloff, 1997). This formulation powerfully and persuasively works up the routine and predictable nature of what “clients” will say: this does not just happen once or twice, but each time he engages with clients. It is so routine and part of the course, then, that this is cast as “common knowledge” (Edwards and Potter, 1992). The stakes associated with the task that Ade has reportedly not “looked at” are thus heightened, and risk is made live, to which Bob aligns agreement (Line 83). The nature of the task, at this point, is not the topic of dispute. Things then take a surprising turn.

Declarative Assertion

When a speaker asserts a particular version of affairs as fact, which is not hedged in any way with, for instance, a qualifier such as “I think” or “it’s possible that,” then this version is said to be constructed as a representation of concrete reality. In asserting such an actual state of affairs, the speaker is said to be making self accountable for being right. It thus works on the level of an appeal to trust.

The decision-making process is further called into question through the issuing of a declarative assertion (Clifton, 2012a) in Line 88/89. In his study of trust actions in workplace interactions, Clifton shows how such assertions work up states of affairs as concrete reality, thus formulating the speaker as accountable for being right. The action of holding oneself publicly as accountable is a marker for trustworthiness. In this instance, Damien scripts a prediction of minimal benefits to be gained if Steve’s course of action is adopted. Thus, Damien’s account works as a display of superior knowledge as authentic, which is nonetheless accountable. It is accountable in the sense that future events could prove him to be right—or wrong. Such claims are inherently risky, so in making a concrete prediction about “the first month’s returns,” Damien rhetorically and reflexively scripts himself as knowledgeable and competent expert, with integrity (in nonetheless reporting such a negative projected future action). Consequently, his display of possessing superior knowledge, of ability to predict, and of accountability, integrity, and authenticity all work interrelationally as a display of “doing trust.” In other words, he constructs his version of affairs as hard if not impossible to dispute. But this is precisely what Steve does.

Orienting to the implicit competency challenge (Hutchby, 2011), Steve’s rejoinder is immediate—a tapering off and lowering of voice tone—issuing a discard by scripting the evidence of what another company (later identified as a competitor) does. It can also be heard as a call to common knowledge of facts out there (Edwards and Potter, 1992): this is what everyone knows. This arguably conjures a question over Damien’s ability and knowledge, with its implication that Damien’s account is biased in favor of his own interests. Thus, he reverses the competency challenge, scripting Damien’s account as not to be trusted, and that others know more, with all of associated consequences for reputation. Trust becomes undermined, and Damien makes no further contribution at this point. The impact of Line 90 can be seen in the two second delay and repair in Line 92, in which Bob attempts to “line under” the debate with a tentative formulation of a question on future projected action, issuing this with a candidate answer (Hepburn and Wiggins, 2005). He clearly makes live a context of discomfort, initiating a turn transition.

In this exchange, ability and reputation are shown as tacitly managed, as accountable and contingent to trust, authenticity, and trustworthiness. Actions are recipient designed (Potter and Edwards, 2012) to invoke warrants (e.g., claims to superior knowledge) for the trustworthiness of accounts. In this way, trust can be seen as implicit to KS, as well as working corelationally with ability and reputation.

It is claimed that Extract 3 shows trust breaking down; however, this is not the end of the matter.

Doubt Marker and Epistemic Downgrades

Use of phrases such as “I think” and “I’m not sure” can serve to conjure doubt over whatever claim or account is being constructed, thus orienting to uncertainty. Likewise, “I think” and similar phrases can also perform the action of downgrading or diluting the knowledge that the speaker claims to possess. However, “I think” can also signify an expression of opinion as the personal possession of the speaker. How such phrases are understood depends on the context in which they are performed.

Quantification Rhetoric

This refers to utterances in which numerical and nonnumerical descriptor (e.g., “small,” “large”) phrases are used to construct accounts as factual and as designed to argue. The way in which such phrases are deployed is also significant in effect: for instance, half a million “sounds” more than 500,000 because the former refers to “millions,” while the latter invokes “thousands.”

Damien’s turn works up Steve as being unreasonable, perhaps not even being in possession of the most basic facts (e.g., the rule for every field). It also orients to pressures of time, with the heavy emphasis on “a lot of work” quantified as being “two weeks,” with the risk that this implies in rendering valuable resources unavailable for other, perhaps more important work. In their study of quantification rhetoric in a media environment, Potter and his coworkers (1991 ) argue that such accounts are not simply accounts of some “robust reality” but are specifically designed to argue. The upshot is a second attempt by Damien to serve up a version of Steve’s “task” as being inappropriate and risky. However, it now transpires that Damien has entirely misunderstood the nature of the task.

Adjacency Pair

This term is drawn from the terminology of conversation analysis, and it refers to two conversational items that naturally and inevitably belong together. Greetings, for instance, are examples where if one speaker issues a greeting, it is incumbent on the other to respond similarly. Questions and answers are another example: if a person asks a question of another, the expected response is an answer to the question, not, for instance, a further question. Thus, these are “ordered pairs” such that the first part sets a requirement for a particular second part to be delivered, so it is made “conditionally relevant.” If a required second part is not forthcoming, it is generally treated by the first part speaker as a non-normative absence.

Intensifier

An intensifier is a word or phrase that works in the same way as an “extreme case formulation” in its effect of upgrading a given feature of the topic under discussion. So, for example, one speaker might say that a recently watched film is pretty good, and the subsequent speaker might describe the same film as well worth watching. This description is not an extreme case formulation because it is, evidently enough, not extreme, but it intensifies the previous description.

The rhetorical pattern displayed in Lines 200 to 206 is a repeat of “yes it is” contrasted with “no it’s not”: Ian Hutchby (2011 ) refers to such devices as “polar contrastives,” typically used in argumentative discourse. Damien bluntly denies Steve’s account of the software (“nothing is missing”: Line 202), formulating this denial as accountable by wrapping it with a warrant (e.g., “… only way … couldn’t be worked …”: Lines 202–203). This is stake management work in the sense of scripting one account while simultaneously undermining another (Edwards and Potter, 2005) and in fact undermining any potential alternative in the formulation of “only way.” In displaying his knowledge of what is not missing, he orients to self as technical expert, reflexively constructing Steve as inexpert and even irrational in his suggestion that “something is missing.” He bolsters his account in Line 206 by scripting an upshot (“… it’s there it just doesn’t show”), with “just” working to downgrade the issue (Abell and Stokoe, 2001). This is delivered in response to Steve’s stretched receipt token (Line 205)—which can be heard as a skeptical rejoinder (Hutchby)—in the attempt to formulate an acceptable end to topic in its dealing with Steve’s initial question over “something missing.” Instead of closing the topic, Steve ups the ante in the form of an intensifier (Schegloff, 1997), upgrading the issue to “a problem,” with “that’s” working as a metaphorical pointing of the finger. Blame is thus made live and attributed.

In the final part of Extract 5, there is a short delay before Damien responds, which makes his initial acceptance of the label “problem” hearable as an admission, and thus Damien orients to the blame work done by his colleague. Note, however, how Damien’s construct of “it’s a problem” contrasts with Steve’s version (“that’s a problem”), which can be seen as initializing a strategy of depersonalizing the problem. The “but” in Line 208 signals the start of a disclaimer (Potter and Wetherell, 1987), an acknowledgement that attribution has been made live and must be deflected.