16
ON MATTERS OF CONTEXT

16.1 THE IMPORTANCE OF CONTEXTUAL PARTICULARS

“Contextual particulars such as setting or behavioural environment are important because they are perceived, experienced, attended to, understood, and so on.”

(Jonathan Potter, 1998b: 32: italics in original)

There is one feature of the notion of context that needs to be reiterated and made clear from the outset of this chapter. This has already been amply demonstrated in the previous discussions around trust, risk, and identity: that people invoke—script, construct, conjure, materialize, bring into being, whatever—contexts as live concerns in everyday talk and text in social interaction. So from this perspective while trust, risk, and identity can be explicitly expressed in descriptions and accounts for instance, they can also be displayed discursively as implicitly understood and constructed contexts. Recall the idea from Chapter 7 that tacit knowing is context driven with context understood as the actor’s interpretation and understanding of their environment and its contents as a consequence of unconscious and automatic abstraction of information from that environment. It is not the environment and its contents that is, in all cases, that which influences the actors’ actions but rather their interpretation of it— their sense-making. In the quotation from Jonathan Potter cited previously, he locates “setting or behavioral environment” as a subset of contextual particulars, with those particulars described as the product of perception, experience, attention, understanding, and so forth. That is, participants in any given environment act upon that environment, influenced by their often tacit understanding of contextual particulars. It is, in its simplest sense, a very circular affective action. Contextual particulars are the way in which individuals make sense of the world, and know how to act.

Similar ideas can be seen in the following brief review of some of the perspectives on context that have already been encountered (see in particular Chapter 7), which provides some further useful background to the present analysis and discussions.

In the knowledge management (KM) field, Mark Thompson and his coworker describe context as comprising the shared meanings and experiences of an organization’s members, as integral to knowledge. According to Haridimos Tsoukas, context is bound to knowing, which suggests that a strategy of removing context (which is the understood intention of some theoretical approaches to KM reviewed in Chapter 4) results in a meaningless state of affairs because context cannot be extracted. From Max Evans’ perspective, context is embedded in shared language: “(S)since knowledge is highly contextual and circumstantial, it is always developed in a specific context and rarely interpreted by the receiver in exactly the same way as was intended by the transmitter” (2013: 1350038-5). This is also reminiscent of the ideas proposed by Dorothy Leonard, for instance. Paul Duguid, again with correspondence to these ideas, claims that human action is the product of both “knowing how” (tacit knowing) and “knowing that”: “knowing how” is formulated as background context and facilitates and mediates “knowing that.” In this version, the actor’s “knowing how,” as the tacitly known understanding and interpretation of the environment and its contents, influences action. This is equally reminiscent of Max Boisot’s notion of knowledge sharing being dependent on degrees of resonance achieved between the repertoires of actors. Thus, shared understanding—sense-making—is essential to the sharing of knowledge.

From the discourse analysis perspective (while noting that “context” is the topic of some debate across the various different approaches, as touched on in Section 8.5), one proposal claims that context is integral to accounts of identity and stance-taking. Jonathan Potter proposes that context and cognition should be treated by the analyst in the same way—as phenomena formulated, worked up, constituted, and oriented to by speakers in interaction. From this perspective, cognition is context, which actually has correspondence with those ideas of context drawn from the KM field noted earlier. Moreover, all these perspectives can be interpreted as approaching context as the individual’s interpretation of the world. Specifically, from the viewpoint of discursive psychology, it is the speaker’s interpretation of the world and its contents which influences action, not the other way around.

In the previous chapters, we have investigated organizational discourse with a concern for the thematic categories of knowledge sharing. Trust, risk, and identity are shown to function corelationally in discourse as concerns made live by the speakers themselves. We have also claimed that these thematic constructs particularly influence the directions and scope of knowledge sharing actions. If, as claimed at the beginning of these discussions, these thematic constructs can be understood as contexts or contextual particulars constructed in discourse, then it follows that turning the analytic focus onto the question of what contexts speakers make live in their discourse in knowledge sharing meetings will bring those same themes to the fore. However, analysis should not second-guess findings so the question that the present chapter addresses is this: what contexts are invoked and how, in organizational meeting discourse, and with what effect on the trajectory of that discourse and knowledge sharing actions in particular?

Several meetings from both of the participating organizations are analyzed with findings organized into three principle categories: shared understanding, stance-taking, and historicity. The analysis reveals some intriguing insights and some surprising findings, which lend support to the findings in the previous analytic chapters.

16.2 DATA

Data are drawn from four meetings, three from Company A. The fourth, with Company B, is a meeting involving three participants, two males and one female; it is short (under 15 minutes) and concerned with developing proposals in response to a client’s brief. Of the Company A meetings, one involves seven participants in a conference call (not all participants speak so the gender ratio is unknown), which is a regular weekly meeting of the company’s project management team. The other two involve a different group of participants (unknown number) in two consecutive weekly, face-to-face senior management team meetings. In all four instances, participants are clearly familiar with one another, and all meetings can be categorized as “knowledge sharing” activities. Five extracts are included here.

16.3 SHARED UNDERSTANDING

In her analysis of the famous Princess Diana television interview for the BBC’s Panorama show, Margaret Wetherell (2001) shows how, in discourse, all meaning is relational. An utterance comes into meaning in the light of others’ understanding, which makes meaning-making a joint production. Recall how Paul Duguid makes a very similar point in his discussion of the importance of “knowing how”: “(A)a tacit understanding of the ground rules for interpretation thus plays a role in grounding a particular interpretation of a text—a facet of interpretation that originates outside the text to be interpreted” (2005: 112). When a speaker makes an utterance (or a writer produces a text), it is the receiver (or reader) who displays and brings into being a version of its meaning, and thus, meaning does not solely exist in the utterance or text. Meaning is relational and accomplished in social interaction.

Recall also Max Boisot’s (2002) notion of the action of knowledge sharing as contingent to degrees of resonance accomplished between the repertoires of speakers. Looking beyond the veneer of the contents of discourse, it is the constructed-in-talk context that drives that meaning. A good example of the functional accomplishment of invoked context can be seen in the University of California’s Pamela Hobb’s (2003) study of a defense lawyer’s courtroom talk, showing how she uses an American vernacular to invoke group membership and shared identity with the jury members. It is not what the lawyer said, but how she said it that works to conjure shared context—shared understanding. Although there is a caveat to add to this: in reality, one can only conjecture a sense of shared context between lawyer and jury members, as there is no corroborating account from the jury members themselves.

Drawing on two of the meeting recordings, the analysis shows how members use different discursive resources to invoke shared understanding or “common context” (e.g., Boisot’s shared repertoires). Two are considered here in detail: the “collaborative continuer” and “gisting and elaboration.”

The simplest and probably most commonly used resource is the “collaborative continuer” in which one speaker finishes the sentence of another, which is described as displaying knowledge of what is on another’s mind (Clifton, 2012b). We have all commonly experienced this: someone says something, and you know, or think you do in a kind of automatic and tacitly accomplished assessment, what is coming next. It is irrelevant to our purposes here whether the action of scripting a collaborative continuer is influenced by some sort of assessment before the fact. The point is that speakers display shared context and collaborative engagement (Drew, 2003b) through explicit displays of knowing what is on another’s mind—that is, what another is about to say. Extract 1 comes some 10 minutes into the meeting. Throughout, Andy and Peter (the same Peter as in Chapter 14) have worked up collaborative continuers as a frequently recurring pattern of their talk, which has the effect of limiting contributions from the third member.

Collaborative Continuer

This is the phrase used by Jonathan Clifton to describe the action by one speaker stepping in to complete a turn initiated but not yet completed by another. It is used in cases where the second speaker not only completes the other’s turn, but also scripts a compatible or consistent completion phrase. In this way, speakers are said to display knowledge on what is on each others’ minds.

16.3.1 Displaying Knowing What’s on Others’ Minds

The imperative to work collaboratively and consensually can be seen in Line 205 with the repeat of the inclusion pronoun “let’s” (Abell and Stokoe, 2001 ) followed by a call to action (“make sure it works”), which scripts group responsibility. Cindy (the “Chair” in Chapter 13) and Peter both issue affirmative tokens invoking agreement (Clifton, 2012; Edwards and Potter, 1992).

An interesting variation of the standard collaborative continuer can be seen in Line 212. Peter’s turn does not explicitly work to complete Andy’s sentence, rather it completes the listing work that Andy has begun. The pattern for this action is established in Lines 208–210 in which Andy produces his first three-part list. As we have seen in previous analyses, this is a device that has been shown to be a particularly effective rhetorical device in doing persuasion (Chilton, 2004; Edwards and Potter, 1992)—which is probably why politicians use it a lot. So, here, we have (1) “we’re seeing it from the [government agency],” (2) “we’re seeing it from the [Government Department],” and (3) “[names] did it through their managed service.” This is followed immediately by the start of what looks like another three-part list started in Line 210: (1) “someone’s gonna bite”; (2) “we can make it work.” It is to this that Peter adds the continuer (Line 212: “An’ have the experience”), in a direct display of knowing where his colleague is going, with its suggestion of a frequently produced “mantra.” Peter’s utterance is a variation on the standard collaborative continuer in that it does not just continue what Andy has started, but also serves to complete it, with the further suggestion of this being the final element in the “mantra” with its appeal to reputation. It almost serves as a topic completer.

In this way, Andy and Peter work collaboratively to build a case framed in a context of persuasion, thus displaying “being a team” (Clifton, 2012b). (As shown in Chapter 12, persuasion is connected to “trust.”) This raises a question: who is the persuasion aimed at? Clearly, not at each other and clearly, not at the third meeting participant (as will be shown momentarily). There is a suggestion of a “rehearsal” of a case that will be given elsewhere, and this could be seen as a characteristic of “proposal talk.” What happens next is intriguing.

The silence, coming just after Peter’s “mantra” completer, in Line 213 suggests that the two men’s business is done. In their study of workplace meetings, Cecilia Ford and her coworker (2012) demonstrate how transition from one speaker to another is a highly collaborative interaction, which is closely monitored and managed. Here, Cindy displays her understanding of the silence (and possibly the “mantra completer”) as being topic closure in claiming rights to issue a new topic (Line 214). The subsequent three-second silence conjures a problem in the making. Paul Drew (2003b), for instance, suggests that even a one-second delay in responding to a speaker indicates “troubles in interaction.”

Peter’s eventual utterance could be interpreted in one of two ways: either he indexes the previous business as incomplete, or he orients to Cindy’s choice of next topic as inappropriate to the here and now and/or her not possessing rights to issue a new topic. Both interpretations mark Cindy’s position as located outside the work of the “shared context” group. Thus, she is side-lined from the group. Arguably, this is the interpretation that Cindy orients to in invoking a warrant in Line 217 (“I can multitask I’m female”), with the latter part of the construction reflexively indexing the inability of “males” to multitask. In other words, Cindy works up her own membership of the group “female,” which has abilities that are beyond that of the group “male” to which the other two members belong. It would be a simple matter to interpret these exchanges as being concerned with gender—it is, after all, Cindy who explicitly introduces the category “female.” However, in contrast, the analysis here suggests that this is more concerned with group membership, with one group (females who can multitask) being scripted as better than the other (males who cannot), which effectively works up a display of lack of interest—or perhaps not lack of interest, more lack of being impressed, by the work of the “shared context” group.

Peter’s turn works up a “skeptical rejoinder” (Hutchby, 2011), scripting rejection of Cindy’s claims. So, in this case, while Andy and Peter are shown to display mutual teamwork and collaborative engagement in a shared understanding of context, with Cindy effectively excluded, Cindy displays her understanding of this version of affairs through the conjuring of a competing group. Shared context, then, can be a contested enterprise raising issues of stake and interest. Note also how the collaborative continuer and “doing being team” work by Peter and Andy have effectively exiled Cindy from the knowledge-sharing actions.

16.3.2 Gisting and Elaboration

The second extract comes from Company A’s project manager meeting which is managed by the Chair (Stuart) and who has an agenda. The extract comes some three-fourth of the way into the meeting (unnecessary elaborative lines are excluded here for brevity). The extract concerns a complaint made by another team in the business (Team Z) and which has been brought to his attention.

Just prior to this extract, Stuart has introduced the complaint topic to the meeting which he does with a display of considerable discomfort: project managers are requesting Team Z’s help in using a computer software package which is interfering with their busy schedule. After much hedging, he finally spells out his request: “Has anybody been building any apps in [software package]”? As a mark for the discomfort which Stuart displays over this matter, note how he does not ask who has been making requests to Team Z, but rather who has been using the software. So, at the outset, Stuart invokes a context of discomfort, unease, and difficulty—but who is this targeted at, his meeting members or Team Z? In response to his question, Dorothy metaphorically raises her hand. Stuart presses her with several questions, trying to get to the bottom of the matter, before resorting to a more targeted question (Line 215).

In contrast to his earlier question, Stuart now overtly indexes to the reported problem—the asking of questions. Dorothy orients to this as constituting an “accusatory why question,” which is loaded (Rautajoki, 2012 ): that is, she displays her understanding of the question being loaded with consequence depending on what answer she gives, which can be seen in the hesitation in her response and repeated account of “trying to” (Line 216). Her display of understanding of the invocation of discomfort, as well as the loaded nature of the question, can also be seen in how she serves a warrant for her actions with mitigating circumstances (Abell and Stokoe, 2001). In this way she displays her knowledge of her stake being at risk of potentially negative consequences which renders it accountable (Silverman, 2007) and subject to blame. What this is all concerned with then is where blame should be attributed. Difficulties are further worked up in Lines 217–219 in scripting Team Z as “…kind of like playing me around…,” attributing Team Z with the characteristic of time-wasting and as the candidate target for blame.

Accusatory-why Question

This is a type of question which places a speaker in the position of being compelled to answer a specific question which is “loaded.” In other words, it is the sort of question which demands a warrant or explanation, making this conditional.

While Dorothy concludes her account on a positive note, in now knowing who to go to, it is her prior account of difficulties that Mark indexes with his affiliating (Clifton, 2014 ) evidence (“I mean I I can back that up as well”: Line 220). He launches an elaborate description of his experiences with Team Z, working up a position as eyewitness (Hutchby, 2001). Ian Hutchby’s analysis of radio talk shows reliably demonstrates how first-hand knowledge, such as eyewitness accounts, work up authenticity of experience with entitlement to formulate opinion as a legitimate raconteur. The upshot is given in Lines 231–233: he was also not given clear answers. The two eyewitness accounts are thus heard as working up consensus and corroboration that mutually attest to the factuality of versions (Edwards and Potter, 1992). So, here, Mark’s elaboration account serves to inoculate mutual stake and interest from potential criticism and bias, for instance. This constitutes his turn as also orienting to the “loaded nature” of Stuart’s question.

Mark concludes his lengthy account with a warrant for his actions, reflexively constructing Team Z as unforthcoming with knowledge (Lines 238–140). A shared context of dissatisfaction with between team support is thus invoked, with procedural consequentiality (Potter, 1998b). That is, the invoked “contextual particulars,” to use Potter’s terms, have effects on the progress, structure, direction, and so forth of subsequent talk. Accordingly, the mutually invoked context by Mark and Dorothy is designed to have a particular effect on subsequent discursive directions.

The relief displayed by Stuart is clearly evident. For instance, in receipting the two accounts given, he simultaneously scripts evaluation (“… helped a lot”: Line 241) which starts the business of working up exoneration from any wrongdoing. It can also be speculated that what he is displaying here is the source of his earlier discomfort: that is, his being placed in the position of potentially having to attribute blame to his team members as a consequence of the actions of another team. He follows this with a “gist account” summing up the talk so far (Clifton, 2006, 2014). Gist accounting is shown to fix the meaning of prior talk, inoculating it from any other version, and which is a particular formulation of leadership. He prefaces this with affiliation (“… helped me understand…”: Line 242) with the previous speakers (Clifton, 2014) conjuring consensus with a warrant for truth (Edwards and Potter, 1992). This has the effect of issuing instructions concerning how his subsequent gist account is to be understood: as an authentic and incontestable account of affairs.

Gist Accounting

Gist accounting provides a summary of the sense of prior talk (as contrasted with an “upshot” which scripts the consequences of previous talk). In his essay on The case of leadership, Jonathan Clifton describes this as a “formulation of leadership” in that gist accounting can be used to “fix the meaning” of the talk so far, thus preventing the potential for other perspectives or meanings to emerge. Consequently, gist accounting can be viewed as a positive resource for speakers in summarising “the case so far” which might mediate the onward progression of discussions, or it can be seen as a rhetorical stumbling block to the emergence of further ideas and perspectives.

The gisting work in Lines 244–247 upgrades the prior reports (Rasmussen, 2010 ) made by the other two speakers in his scripting of experiences as “painful.” He expands the context of “dissatisfaction” by introducing the emotional response, “slightly apologetic” (Lines 244/245). The final flourish is his invocation of himself as a witness (“… I’ve been there too”: Lines 246/247) with first-hand knowledge and therefore authenticity of experience. This can be heard in marked contrast to Stuart’s earlier difficulties and hesitancies in raising Team Z’s complaint. Consequently, Stuart is doing more than summing up prior talk: he is adding to its authenticity with his own first-hand knowledge, and thus its truth is made impeccable and trustworthy. As shown in Chapter 12, matters of authenticity and truth are bound to trust.

In the follow-on talk, both Dorothy and Mark volunteer turns in which they spin positive accounts of Team Z, indexing a sense of fair balance. It is suggested that this volunteered additional information, which turns out to be important to the team, is “released” by Stuart’s actions in exonerating all blame from his team members. In Chapter 12 on Trust, we see an almost identical set of affairs (Extract 6) in which the meeting leader’s removal of blame from another speaker results in the latter becoming more willing to share knowledge than in previous extracts from the Company B meeting. What has also been displayed is strong between team rivalry, combined with equally strong intrateam loyalty—within the same business—which is likely to have considerable impact on knowledge sharing within the organization as a whole.

In these extracts, working up shared understanding of context has resulted in important knowledge being shared, with participants shown to work collaboratively to accomplish consensus. It would also be a reasonable assessment to propose that contextual particulars of trust, risk and identity are implicit to these actions. In the following discussion, participants are shown to engage in a very different kind of contextual talk.

16.4 STANCE-TAKING

In the next extracts, matters of stake and interest are brought to the fore in a constructed context of competing claims. What emerges is a highly complex mesh of connected psychological phenomena at work conjuring a live context of attribution of blame and a discourse of “them and us” as a form of identity work. The analysis further connects these themes to frustration and disagreement, reputation and risk.

16.4.1 Invoking the Context of Courtroom

Extract 3 comes from the first of the two senior management meetings (Company A). John (the same as in Chapter 13) has just arrived late to the meeting (around 30 minutes into a 90 minute meeting). The extract is drawn from an extended argument between John and Roger (also note that the “Jim” referred to is the “Chair” from Extract 1, Chapter 13), which is initiated by an accusation brought by Roger. Just prior to this, Roger has raised an issue, which he intends to talk to John about “probably outside of this meeting,” as it is “very specific.” John reformulates this, activating it as a valid topic for the present meeting discussion: “Is it specific to the people that you see?” Does he want an audience, or does he want witnesses? Arguably, he knows what is coming.

The dispute centers on a project proposal/presentation given to a new client by a member of John’s team (Jim), which the client has accepted. The sequential unfolding is patterned by claim and counterclaim, with reputation as a contextual undercurrent allied to matters of stake and interest (Edwards and Potter, 2005 ). The key claim made by Roger is that nobody saw any part of the proposal/presentation (Lines 5–7) before being given to the client. This is forcibly repeated in Lines 11 and 13, working up an extreme case formulation (“nobody”), a device which is characteristic of argumentative discourse (Hutchby, 2011). The upshot is that Jim’s actions are formulated as wrong and contrary to the organization’s interests, with implications of risk to reputation. John’s counterclaim is that Jim did show the budget to someone, thus rendering Roger’s claim to be false. The extract can be heard as conjuring a context of courtroom drama where members adopt stances of prosecutor (Roger) and defense (John). Both speakers orient to “the truth of what really happened” (Edwards and Potter, 1992) but, unlike courtroom cross-examination, their concerns are less with “memory” of events and more with the truth of where the blame lies. The stakes are high with Roger making explicit reference to “dangers” (Line 29). How does this play out?

Roger prefaces his account of the problem by scripting its seriousness: he is trying to “keep very calm” (Line 1), reflexively displaying possession of rights to the exact opposite—explosion and panic—and to avoid exaggeration (Line 5), which scripts matters as alarming enough without being embellished. Sandwiched in the middle, he sets out a context (“that job that was sold”: Line 3), which he positively evaluates (“great,” “new project new client”: Line 4). So, he invokes an emotional cognitive state followed by an objective evaluation, which can serve to “do persuasion” (Wiggins and Potter, 2003), and then he upgrades the ante (Schegloff, 1997) in invoking rights to be alarmed. These actions frame his claim as “loaded.” This is high drama invoking the displayed contexts of attribution of blame, with prospective consequences for reputation. Thus, an explanation is made conditional (Clifton, 2012b), with the suggestion that Roger himself may be called to answer the case to others further up the hierarchical ladder.

Epistemic Doubt Marker

Utterances such as “I think” and “I don’t know,” in the sense of referencing what one knows, can be understood as scripting uncertainty, as a device to manage stake and interest, and as a means of deflecting potential criticism. However, phrases such as “I dunno” can also be analyzed as a display of concern for the feelings and beliefs of others, for instance, and not necessarily cognitive uncertainty. Hence, the importance of attending to the context invoked by the speaker, and in particular the context oriented to by other speakers. In other words, in determining how such phrase fragments can be understood by the analyst, and consequently what actions speakers are engaged in, the question to ask is: how and what meaning do speakers share?

John’s repeat turns (Lines 8 and 10) index Roger’s prior turn as attributing blame, which makes them the subject of defense. This initiates the business of claim and counterclaim, invoking courtroom rhetoric. He explicitly calls for an account of truth working up an epistemic doubt marker (Wooffitt and Allistone, 2008 ) calling trust and authenticity into question, and reflexively indexing to possession of mitigating facts. His questioning of what is “entirely true” scripts matters as needing to be entirely true or not true at all. Thus, Roger’s subsequent turn is also made conditionally relevant (Clifton, 2012b), prompting him to repeat his claim. Similarly to Lines 5–7, Roger does listing—this time as a clear three-part list—working up the factuality of his claim (Lines 11–14). In their analysis, Derek Edwards and his coworker (1992) show how three-part listing is rhetorically important in environments such as courtrooms, which adds to the sense of a courtroom drama unfolding. This can also be seen as an unmitigated display of rights to knowledge—these are the facts, and they are “out there” for anyone to see (Clifton), working up their status as undeniably authentic and trustworthy. Thus, Roger invokes epistemic primacy (Clifton), indexing John’s concern with the entire truth. Truth and blame are thus made live within the context of “courtroom.”

Up to this point (Line 15), both speakers display their knowledge of the facts “as out there,” which are put in motion to warrant the direction of blame attribution. That is, they attempt to use their respective knowledge of the facts of the matter as the evidence of what actually happened, and consequently whether this or that person should be blamed. This is precisely what Robin Wooffitt (2005) advises cannot work as a strategy for dispute resolution: in such disputes, it is precisely the facts that are called into question, and consequently an appeal to facts as a means of resolving the dispute or persuading the other to one’s point of view will be ineffectual. Or at least, ineffectual where both speakers (in this case) are equal within the given social group in which the dispute occurs. Roger apparently orients to this understanding of the context as it is developing.

The pause between Roger’s repeated claim and his take up of a next turn suggests that he expects a response from John at this point, which the latter declines to give. In his subsequent turn, Roger’s repair from what John “knows” to what he “thinks” (Line 16) opens the possibilities not just to what John knows but also to what he thinks he knows, casting doubt over John’s possession of objective facts: thus, John is scripted as having personal stake and interest in these accounts (Edwards and Potter, 1992). So, while his previous turns served the accusation, here, Roger issues a call for witness account but which is already painted as subjective. The dispute is thus made more personal.

John interrupts his colleague to construct his version of events. The pause in Line 19 suggests reading from papers he has to hand (perhaps the emails referred to in Line 18) implying that his evidence is drawn, not from memory recall, but rather from written material which scripts concerns with authenticity and objective factual accounting. This is further implied in how John states the name of the person who has “worked through the budget” with Jim—slowly and carefully as if reading from documented evidence. So, while John makes a concession that Jim did not pass the budget “through up here” (presumably to head office), the “but” marks the end of the concessionary material signaling that what follows is in opposition to this (Wood and Kroger, 2000): Jim did show it to someone, and consequently Roger’s claim that “nobody” saw the budget is false. This is the kind of logical accounting that one would expect in a courtroom (see, for instance, Abigail Locke and Derek Edwards’, 2003, discursive study of (then) President Clinton’s Grand Jury Testimony). Both orient to evidence and witnesses.

In formulating his defense, John ignores reference to the other elements of the proposal made explicit by Roger: the “schedule, design, and technology” as not being seen by anybody. He has moved the argument’s focus solely onto the topic of “budget.” This is an effective rhetorical strategy: in limiting the scope of the argument, it is more easily pulled apart. In response to Roger’s “factual accounting of accusation,” John adopts a stance, which manages stake and interest by doing objective accounting, building an alternative version of accounts, which works simultaneously to undermine Roger’s (Edwards and Potter, 2005).

Roger orients to his accusatory claim having been undermined by introducing new evidence—“spreadsheet” (Line 23)—prefaced by “well”: Linda Wood and her colleague (2000) suggest that this conversation particle scripts previous accounts as insufficient, while Derek Edwards and his coworker (1992) suggest that it signals a “dispreferred response” on the way. With his initial claim undermined, it is proposed that here this particle scripts what comes next is a “weak argument,” with the slight pause and “umm” (Line 23) conjuring a metaphorical “scrapping of barrels.” Like any effective defense lawyer, John pounces on this weakness: “OK we’ll talk about this specifically …” (Line 25), displaying the same argument-limiting tactic used earlier. He then invokes witnesses (“we all know”): “… a major way of warranting the factuality of a version is to depict it as agreed across witnesses …” (Edwards and Potter: 163). Thus, John works up consensus and corroboration. The interruptive response by Roger transforms this witness call into a warrant for concerns with “dangers” (Lines 28/29).

The to and fro of argumentative rhetoric continues for several more minutes, with other members joining in, and increasingly includes detailed displays of “what actually happened” and mitigation. The upshot comes in Extract 4.

Conversation Particle

Conversation particles come in many shapes and sizes, but are generally of a mono-syllabic structure, and serve some purpose in the on-going conversation sequences. For instance, “oh” can denote a change of the speaker’s current state of knowledge.

Dispreferred Response

This refers to a response that one speaker is not expecting nor wanting to hear from another. The conversation scrap “well” is often used by a speaker to signal their knowledge that what they are about to utter will be received by the listener as being dispreferred. Similarly, a “dispreferred structure” refers to a rhetorical structure such as “yes … but ….

16.4.2 Doing “them and us”

In this extract, coming toward the end of the argument, John effectively reverses the earlier prosecutor–defense stances, by issuing a claim to epistemic primacy (Clifton, 2012b : Line 150), which prefaces a new accusatory claim, simultaneously reversing the direction of attribution. This claim is even more “inflaming” than the previously conjured risks and dangers for the business. His secondary preface conjures a witness report—Tom’s phone call this morning—as reported speech, shown to work up the factuality and authenticity of versions (Wood and Kroger, 2000), and is also a classic stake management/inoculation tactic (Edwards and Potter, 2005). Thus, John is able to use “inflammatory” language (“utterly pissed off”: Lines 152/153) without fear of criticism: he is simply reporting another’s words. The accusation that nobody is happy “that we’ve won a new piece of work” (Line 154) sets in motion a new context of them and us. Winning contracts is precisely what he and his team are employed to do. Thus, “this organization” is scripted as irrational and flawed in not welcoming success. It is further speculated that John has pressed for the client/proposal meeting topic (discussed at the outset of this analysis) precisely in order to raise this “inflaming” state of affairs. It also raises the question of why the firm should be troubled with newly won contracts, which reappears in Extract 5.

The context of “them and us” emerges interactionally across Lines 154–160. Indexing to John’s reflexive scripting of organizational unhappiness with its connotations of irrationality, Roger formulates the opposite (“we’re very very happy”), marking this as extreme. Jonathan Clifton (2006) notes that extreme case formulations can leave a speaker open to disagreement in that all that is required is one exception to the case. Arguably, this is what John indexes with his overlapping interruption of preferred organizational action: “what they need to communicate” (Line 156). In referring to “they,” John makes explicit his stance apart from the organization: on one side of the line, he and his team, successful at winning contracts, with intact reputation; on the other, the organization, irrational, which cannot communicate, and is thus conjured as having “the problem.”

Roger orients to this serious turn of context with what can be heard as a conciliatory message (“well we will sit…,”: Line 158). This is quickly discarded and replaced with the formulation “y’know.” Elsewhere, this is shown to work up collaborative consensus, but here it works with “gre↓at” (Line 158) to script a skeptical rejoinder (Hutchby, 2011). The subsequent “spelled out” consequence of winning the new contract is invoked as extreme (“whole team… everyone off everything else”: Line 159) and coated in irony (“Of course, I think it’s brilliant”: Line 160). Because of the actions of John’s team, extreme measures will need to be taken by others, with his own earlier avowal of organizational “happiness” rendered as ironic. The organization cannot be both happy and having to take extreme measures. The teams he refers to will be extremely disrupted because of the actions of John’s team: “them and us” is consequently capitalized.

While it is argued that both speakers arrive at a point of mutually shared context of “unhappiness” and “organizational schism,” they clearly do so from conflicting perspectives—thus, this context is contested. Frustration is brought to the fore through disagreement. Having made this point, Roger returns the rhetorical trajectory back to the matter at hand (the troubling budget, Lines 162/163), thus “doing” authority (Clifton, 2006). This can be nicely contrasted with Stuart’s hesitancy over delivering the precise nature of the problem complaint to his team meeting in Extract 2: Jonathan Potter and his coworker’s (2010) study of governance rules in an institutional meeting suggests that such hesitancy and informality scripts, in their case, the governance rules as not to be heard as authoritarian and impersonal. Here, Roger is unproblematically setting the agenda and scripting himself as not yet being satisfied with the answers he has been given.

What has started out as an issue over a proposal/presentation with concerns for truth and blame has transformed into conflicting contexts of organization, and a clear demarcation between them and us: recall Pamela Hobb’s (2003) study of courtroom rhetoric with a focus on conjuring opposing groups—them and us. Two further points: (1) no-one questions the consequential link between proposals/presentations unseen by others and risks/dangers to the organization, and (2) no-one questions or requests clarification on the nature of those risks. It can therefore be construed that such knowledge is already tacitly understood and known by meeting members.

In the final extract, further and related debate unfolds, but in a very different way.

16.5 DOING HISTORICITY

Extract 5 is drawn from the following week’s senior management team meeting. As background, the previous week’s meeting makes an explicit reference to a “big message” concerning resources and capacity, which needs to be conveyed to the organization’s board of directors.

The issue under discussion is why start-up on new contracts is sometimes “slowed down.” The organization employs a full-time staff of developers/designers, supplemented by hiring “freelancers.” The primary shared context invoked here is “history,” with recollection of what has happened in the past in the search for reasons. But, arguably, there is a further tacitly understood context made live by the speakers, and which relates to frustration–disagreement and power. The hint of these can be seen in the first three rhetorical transactions.

Across Lines 1–5, Roger speculates a reason for the deliberate actions of slowing “something” down invoking historically located knowledge of technology not “quite ready.” The invocation of historical events has the effect of limiting potential contributions from speakers to those who have direct knowledge of the events: it thus works as a “tacit form of addressing” (Svennevig, 2012b). There are two features about his utterance which are relevant: first, he works to mitigate against criticism or disagreement with stake inoculation work (“I think,” “I don’t know”: Edwards and Potter, 1992), orienting to the potentially contentious or problematic nature of his speculation, but he then invokes historical “fact” (“something like [client name] we weren’t we slowed…”: Lines 3/4) as a warrant for his stance. Second, he neatly attributes blame for “slowing down” to the technology, which reflexively deflects attribution from the team. Note also the scripting of “and so on and so on” (Line 5), which attempts to establish shared knowledge (Potter, 1998a), with its assumption that recipients will “fill in the blanks,” marking his account as authentic. His disconnected reference to “make decisions” is curious: he does not use the past tense, inferring that the decisions that affected the client’s project (Line 3) are still being made.

John indexes these “decisions” (Line 6), effectively reformulating (Chilton, 2004) Roger’s historical version and reflexively scripting self as eyewitness with consequential claims to knowledge. In doing so, he tacitly displays his knowledge as being relevant and appropriate and actioned within the boundaries of Roger’s earlier “tacit addressing.” He redistributes blame to “the decision-maker” by activating an alternative strategy—choosing a different technology—implying that knowingly opting for a technology that was not ready was/is misguided.

Roger, after a brief silence, corroborates his colleague’s version with a matching phrase (“could’ve”: Line 8). There is a sense of an “uncomfortable truth” lurking here. No one asks why such a decision was made, knowing that technology was not ready, and no one refers to who took that decision. Alan’s utterance in Line 10 arguably works to close down this nebulous, “between the lines” talk by scripting doubt over Roger’s version, implying a directional change is needed with the quietly spoken “slowed that down” marking the current trajectory as problematic.

Roger self-selects with a following turn in which he accounts for other reasons. The key points to notice are the hesitancy, repeat of doubt markers (Wooffitt, 2007, “I dunno”: Line 12, and “definitely don’t know”: Lines 14–15), and repair in Line 14. This is in considerable contrast to this speaker’s measured speech patterns in the earlier meeting talk (Extract 3). Roger can be heard as orienting to concerns with authenticity and stake and the problematic nature of the context of “misguided decisions” that has been made live. Further, he relocates his accounts into the present.

The excluded lines see the debate continuing, placing increasing importance on the need to “ramp up” staff numbers to cope with workload. Thus, the direction of the discussion has shifted from the troubling matter of misguided decisions about technology, to staff numbers. Vicky comments that ramping up is contingent to “profitability,” scripting herself as a “financial” person in which matters the other participants appear to accept her judgment. The “denouement” comes in Lines 33–45. In this part, Alan carefully builds a case, affiliated to (Clifton, 2014) by other members. Note how across Lines 33–37 Alan is three-part listing: (1) “it begins with PMs,” (2) “fast to react,” and (3) “having the necessary people.” This works up persuasion rhetoric (Edwards and Potter, 1992), with its associated claims to factuality. In contrast to historical accounting, Alan is projecting future actions (Clifton, 2012). This can be seen in his display of a conditional structure (Sneijder and te Molder, 2005): “↑if we DO that (then) the benefit …,” scripting him as knowledgeable of cause and effect on future outcomes (Chilton, 2004).

Conditional Structure

Conditional structures are particular formulations which can be used to describe events as having particular consequences. It follows that those events which can be constructed as having predictable patterns and consequences (e.g., “as long as you do this … then this will work …”), with those consequences knowable in advance, are events which are constructed linguistically as factually robust. This effectively negates the need for any further elaboration of the predicted case in terms of proof or evidence.

Vicky serves the rhetorical “bombshell” across Lines 40–45, reinvoking historicity, effectively undermining Alan’s projection of future outcomes with a call to historical events, which evidence his version as unworkable. She orients to Roger’s confirmation token (Rautajoki, 2012 ) in Line 39 with “you first tried,” targeting her turn directly to him. She scripts knowledge and memory (“I kno::w I can remember …”: Line 41), with the stretched vowel conjuring a concern with authenticity, allied to the importance of learning lessons from the past: Roger has already “looked” at ramping up freelancers, but “four clients were delayed.” The implication is that, in these circumstances, a ramp up would have been risky: ramping up would have meant staff members sitting with nothing to do because new projects are delayed in starting up by the clients who, it is implied, cannot be controlled. Thus, the speaker scripts an evaluation of Alan’s built-up case, with the upshot that as they have no control over what the clients do, ramping up is a poor choice of action. Thus, the context of history is called upon to provide facts to warn against future actions which works in contrast to Roger’s earlier historical accounting as a route to reasons.

Finally, returning to the notion of “frustration–disagreement and power” raised earlier, it is suggested that while this senior management team display claims to rights and powers to discuss such sensitive and important matters, and in possessing the knowledge to do so, what they do not display having are rights and power to make decisions. In the first part of the extract, we saw how the decision to use unready technology is cast as misguided, but no one asks why such a decision was made, with the author of the decision unnamed. It is inferred that this author is not present in the meeting—if they had been they would almost certainly have defended their past actions. It is further suggested that this decision-maker is located higher up the organization’s hierarchy. This being the case, the senior mangers’ meeting is reduced to a “talking shop,” which can be seen in the frustration–disagreement, which marks both meetings.

16.6 PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS

Findings suggest that context in the sense of speakers’ interpretation and understanding of their environment and its contents is a catalytic dimension of knowledge sharing, which both influences the discursive trajectory and is consequential to these activities. In analyzing the contexts that speakers invoke as live concerns, we can also see that, in many cases, these can be categorized as contexts of identity (reputation, for instance), trust (e.g., authenticity and claims to epistemic primacy), and risk (the consequences of one team’s actions on another and the implication of decision-making beyond the control of the senior management team, for instance).

In the analysis here, findings display two ways in which speakers conjure shared understanding of context: first, through displaying knowledge of what’s on another’s mind and, second, in gisting and elaboration work. Displays of others’ cognition are an efficient way to “short hand” a meeting, for instance, where speakers share a common purpose and similar experiences and are familiar with and trust each others’ abilities. But there is a suggestion that repeated enactment leads to a potential barrier to other contributors taking up turns, with implied consequences for the sharing of knowledge in equitable measures.

With gisting and elaboration, displays are shown to work up consensus and affiliation—group membership with a shared emotional experience (“pain” and embarrassment leading to an apologetic state) conjuring mutually shared and understood context. This constructed affiliation inevitably leads to mutual exoneration: the meeting host (Extract 2) for raising the troubling issue in the first place and the two others for any wrong-doing in their actions. The important upshot is that the latter two speakers are both prompted to volunteer further knowledge of the incidents resulting in the sharing of important and useful knowledge with all meeting participants.

The construction of a context of “them and us” emerges in the analysis of stance-taking in the first of the senior management meetings (Extract 4). The extended discourse of argument initiates with the invocation of a courtroom drama (Extract 3) in speakers’ extreme concerns for truth and objectivity, claim and counterclaim, claims to knowledge superiority, and blame attribution. There is a marked pursuit of detail against an undercurrent of reputational risk made explicit in the warnings of risks and dangers to the business. When the stances become reversed, and a claim of wrong-doing at the organizational level is introduced, this quickly coalesces into a context of them and us. Arguably this emerges from the context of courtroom rhetoric. In a courtroom, the prosecution and defense are expected to “take sides,” to promote alternate versions of events, and to question claims to knowledge. This clearly has an effect on the directions of knowledge sharing.

Perhaps the most contentious interpretation is made of the final extract in which the invoking of history in the search for reasons for a particular issue raises the ghost of a contextual difficulty—the existence of a decision-maker who makes flawed decisions, which, it is implied, is the reason for the “slowing down” of contract work. The silences and absence of discussion on this matter suggests an anomaly. Analysis suggests that while meeting members have a right to discuss such issues, they have no rights to make decisions leading to the further conjecture that the disagreement–frustration, which marks both meetings, emanates from this status. Taken as a whole, Extracts 2–5, drawn from the same company but representing different tiers within the hierarchy of the business, script an organization with some profound and deep-seated organizational problems.

The final chapter brings together all of the findings from this and previous chapters in a discussion largely centered around the research questions shown at the start of Part Two. Findings are also considered from the perspective of how they can be related to those key issues and debates found to be so challenging for the field of knowledge management in the first part of this book.

POSTSCRIPT

Within a year of making these meeting recordings, Company A had been taken over by a rival with, today, the only vestige of its lengthy track record and existence maintained in the name of a legacy product.

FURTHER READING

  1. Hobbs, P. (2003). “Is that what we’re here about?”: a lawyer’s use of impression management in a closing argument at trial. Discourse & Society, 14, (3): 273–290.
  2. Hutchby, I. (2001). “Witnessing”: the use of first-hand knowledge in legitimating lay opinions on talk radio. Discourse Studies, 3, (4): 481–497.
  3. Locke, A. and Edwards, D. (2003). Bill and Monica: memory, emotion and normativity in Clinton’s Grand Jury Testimony. British Journal of Social Psychology, 42: 239–256.
  4. Potter, J. (1998). Cognition as context (whose cognition?) Research on Language and Social Interaction, 31, (1): 29–44.
  5. Svennevig, J. (2012). The agenda as resource for topic introduction in workplace meetings. Discourse Studies, 14, (1): 53–66.
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