Rhetoric and Cape Town’s Campaign to Defeat Day Zero

Exigencies

The city of Cape Town in South Africa has long been conscious of climate change and thus devoted significant resources to the city’s water management system as part of its sustainability efforts. For example, in 2015, Cape Town was awarded the C40 Cities for its management of water (C40 Cities, 2015). And yet, in 2018, Cape Town was grappling with a water crisis. What happened to cause such a reversal of fortunes? The city had announced in January 2018 that it was months away from running out of water. April 12, 2018 was designated Day Zero, “the moment at which dam levels would drop below 13.5 percent” (Allsop, 2018, para. 5). At that point, the city would impose stringent new water restrictions. City officials projected that water levels below 13.5% would result in faucets being turned off, consigning water collection to distribution centers set up by the city. That was Day Zero. And it was apocalyptic.

The January 2018 announcement became a clarion call for the city. The hashtag #DefeatDayZero was deployed as the rallying cry to galvanize the public in the water conservation effort. For the city, Day Zero was designed to shock residents out of their complacency (Allsop, 2018). News media, political and civic leaders, activist groups, and ordinary publics leapt into action. The media broadcast images of “parched-earth dams” and of residents carrying huge water bottles lining up for water (Alexander, 2019). The city imposed strict water limits allowing each person 50 L of water per day, of which just 2 minutes would be allocated to showers; it repaired leaky pipes; installed new water pressure systems; made it illegal to fill pools, water gardens, and wash cars; and erected emergency water distribution stations. Further, the city mounted awareness campaigns to motivate the public to change its water use. Universities such as that of Cape Town organized public lectures, retrofitted water-saving showerheads on campus facilities and, just like the city residents, limited water use. Farmers were allocated quotas over which they could not go or risk being cut off (Baker, 2018a).

As the apocalypse known as Day Zero loomed, the city posted “weekly updates of dam levels on electronic boards to freeways and launched a city-wide water map” depicting typical household water consumption in an effort to prompt others to emulate (Alexander, 2019). It launched a weekly letter that was broadcast on radio, discussed at social gatherings, and shared on social media. And it orchestrated a water-saving campaign using the hashtag #DefeatDayZero under which were packaged a set of artifacts aimed at achieving this goal. Businesses also took initiative by posting signs to conserve water use and installing hand sanitizers to replace handwashing. Unprompted, the public began sharing water use tips on social media, on call-in radio shows, and other gatherings including 2-minute shower songs (Shapiro, 2018). All of these circulation strategies that are broader than persuasion were couched within the discourse of water conservation, sustaining limited resources, and preventing catastrophe.

And when April 12 came and went without the faucets being shut off, the city breathed a sigh of relief for having averted the apocalypse by pushing back Day Zero. How the city of Cape Town managed to evade disaster is the subject of this article. Given our warming climate, low rainfall, extreme drought, and fading water supplies, all of which make a Day Zero likely for other cities, Cape Town’s rhetorical efforts, which communicated water conservation and efficiency measures, severe water restrictions, and water monitoring serve as a likely precedent for cities facing increasing risk of the worst effects of climate change.

This article examines the crisis surrounding Day Zero, the efforts marshalled to push back that date and, indeed, to bring about sustainable water use. Day Zero as a contemporary application of (apocalyptic) rhetoric and technical communication offers us the opportunity to examine the effects of climate change and to analyze the role rhetoric played in averting it. Day Zero is important as a rhetorical intervention in a crisis that is demonstrative of the emerging reality of climate change. For one city in Africa to be able to avert the crisis through a rhetorically orchestrated set of technological, scientific, and civic interventions is significant for (among others) technical communicators who need to know not simply that it was done, but how rhetoric helped avert Day Zero.

The City of Cape Town

The city of Cape Town is nestled in the westernmost cape of South Africa where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean. With an estimated population of just more than 4 million people (City of Cape Town 2017), the city is a mix of wealth and extreme poverty with most of the poor living in informal settlements that have no indoor plumbing. The city’s Mediterranean climate, natural water streams and canals, and the runoff from nearby Table Mountain have always seemed to guarantee the thriving agriculture scene, mining, and growing urbanization. However, the drought that precipitated Day Zero was preceded by the lowest recorded rainfall since the 1880s, which in turn translated into low run-off and falling dam levels (Wolski, 2018). Scientists found that human activities had contributed to the drought and subsequent low dam flows (Otto et al., 2018).

For the city of Cape Town to run out of water is ironic given its history and founding and is perhaps illustrative of the undeniable effects of human activity on the climate. Cape Town is a city of springs that owes its existence to a water system known as Xhamissa (in the local Khoisan language) meaning the “place of sweet waters” (Whittles, 2018). This water originated from underground rivers and streams running beneath Table Mountain, guaranteeing high precipitation for the area (Whittles, 2018). These sweet waters were the main attraction to travelers, European colonizers, and Dutch settlers, the latter of whom waged war against the local Khoi Khoi for access to water (for more, see Caron von Zeil, 2019, Reclaim Camissa). Xhamissa comprised the city’s bulwark of canals, river, streams, dams, and the run-off/snowmelt from Table that would generate electricity, fuel agriculture including vast vineyards, water wheat fields, cattle ranching, coal mining, and the city itself. Drawing from both surface and groundwater, the city’s water consumption was unmitigated. But, as Day Zero illustrated, water is not an infinite resource.

A Warming Climate

The intergovernmental panel on climate change (IPCC; 2018) that links human influence to changes in the climate with “many regions of the world” (p. 53) warns of significant increase in warming. This increased warming has resulted in “droughts, floods, sea level rise,” all of which pose profound risk to humans in terms of “food security” and access to water (IPCC, 2018, p. 53). Moreover, warmer weather has led to increased water demand for agriculture, industrial use, and domestic consumption. Sadly, this increase in water consumption has not led to efficiency, which the IPCC report notes has “remained constant” (p. 149). As well, the 2017 and 2018 U.S. Global Change Research Program, which has since 1989 submitted an annual report of climate change to Congress, highlights the problems associated with climate warming and its impacts on global communities. Accordingly, it has developed climate education and literacy initiatives aimed at the public with the goal to enhance public understanding and awareness of climate-change impacts and solutions, in other words, sustainable solutions.

This work builds on the groundbreaking work first articulated by the World Commission on Environment and Development of 1987. The World Commission on Environment and Development defined sustainable development as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the future generations to meet their own needs” (p. 43). This statement is global in its assessment, but its implications are local in application. It encompasses the sustainable applications where global catastrophes have local implications and corresponding solutions. It connects people to their environment.

The discourse on sustainable development acknowledges the need for communities, nations, and states to consider placing constraints on their pursuit of development by calling for a balancing between society and the environment (Our Common Future, 1987). A common feature in sustainability discourse is a call for broad participation inclusive of a representation of all stakeholders. Such a coalition involves wide participation in “policy forums, developing a consensus around national and local government initiatives, communicating new initiatives to the public, and encouraging a sense of individual responsibility for actions” (Myers & Macnaghten, 1998, p. 333). This call, which has been in place since the Rio Earth Summit of 1992 convened by The United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, was the first to recognize the interrelationship among environmental, economic, social, and development issues. Thus, it outlined a set of international guidelines for sustainability (United Nations General Assembly, 1992). More recently, the Paris Agreement of 2018, convened as a global response to the threat of climate change, sought to bring together “all nations into a common cause to … combat climate change” (United Nations Climate Change, 2018).

It is within these policy and scholarly discussions of the effects of global warming that the city of Cape Town in South Africa found itself staring down at Day Zero. The drought in Cape Town had intensified between 2017 and 2018. Authorities announced that the city’s reservoirs would get too low by mid-April 2018, making it inevitable for water to shut off.

Ordinarily, a city running out of water would not make headlines beyond its borders. Granted, the city of Flint, MI had experienced a water crisis caused by lead contamination that resulting in legionnaires disease, a man-made tragedy (Sackey, 2018). Cape Town’s crisis was different. It was running out of water.

Cape Town is a global cosmopolitan city steeped in the history of European colonization and the antiapartheid struggle. Its location, mild temperature, and natural attractions make it a top tourist destination. The prospect of a world city of this magnitude running out of water was unfathomable to the international community, particularly given the water precarity that other world cities such as Mexico City, Melbourne, and Sao Paulo face (Somini & Weiyi, 2019).

Several writers have offered numerous reasons for this crisis. Among these are failure in governance as it pertains to enforcing water use, failure to expand water resources to cater to population increase, rapid expansion of agriculture, aridity (a result of climate change), and a surge in the metropolitan population (from 2.4 million in 1995 to 4.3 million in 2018; Maxmen, 2018; Poplak, 2018; The Lancet Planetary Health, 2018; Wolski, 2018). The city was also faulted for failing to diversify its water sources so that its primary source of water was from dams and rainwater (Muller, 2017). With the impending crisis, city officials moved to address the immediate and future concerns surrounding water use. And inevitably, that discussion shifted to sustainability, environmental discourse, and crisis management.

The case of Cape Town’s water crisis, and the documentation produced in its response, comprise a model contemporary case of technical communication that appeals to us as scholars. Of interest to me was the apocalyptic rhetoric and sustainability efforts evoked in the campaign to #DefeatDayZero and how it worked as a galvanizing tool of technical communication. I was thus interested to see how the Defeat Day Zero campaign employed rhetorical tools and devices of discourse to push back Day Zero, and what we might learn from those tactics.

This study thus opted for a rhetorical criticism of the Defeat Day Zero campaign artifacts to understand the framing, the design, the rhetorical appeals, and perhaps ideological stance manifested in that campaign. Topics and commonplaces were also applicable to understanding the communication artifacts because commonplaces functioned to “bring an audience to a place of understanding through shared awareness of a situation/topic” (Myers & Macnaghten, 1998; Ross, 2013, p. 97). In addition, the circulation of these artifacts were a factor in spreading awareness and drumming up support to dispense with wasteful ways of water use and take up new more sustainable habits.

Accordingly, this article is guided by the following research question: What rhetorics are at play in the (successful) #DefeatDayZero campaign materials?

I seek to answer this question by conceptualizing the rhetoric that facilitates the framing, design, and circulation of the campaign and, having done that, analyze the artifacts of the #DefeatDayZero campaign to identify the elements that are common among them, both in their explicit content and their implied models of participation. As Sackey (2018) has advocated, focusing on the local context of the environmental concern helps develop actions that are not blind to injustices in the physical world. I hope to establish the nature of relationships implicit in the city where the Day Zero campaign materials were deployed.

On Rhetoric

Rhetoric in environmental discourse allows a circumspect analysis of how communication artifacts are composed, sent, and received among a public of varying knowledge and investments. In On Rhetoric Book III, 1, Aristotle offers that “in making a speech one must study three points: first, the means of producing persuasion; second, the style, or language, to be used; third, the proper arrangement of the various parts of the speech” (Ross, 2010, p. 119). This was in keeping with his definition of rhetoric as “the faculty of observing in any given case the available means of persuasion” (Rhetoric 1.2.1355b). We gather from this definition that style, structure, and language devices work together to convey messages and to persuade audiences because, as Aristotle adds, “it is not enough to know what we ought to say; we must also say it as we ought” (Ross, 2010, p. 41).

Foss (2009) builds on this concept by expanding the capacity of rhetoric as the “human use of symbols to communicate” (p. 3). While early rhetoric in ancient Greece focused on speech, Foss’ expansion of rhetoric allows us to consider the social dimension of rhetoric in which linguistic and symbolic choices convey meaning. To this end, scholars have examined documents, websites, photographs, and news reports and, more recently, hashtags, as articles of analysis. This dimension allows us to engage rhetoric as a “qualitative research method that is designed for the systematic investigation and explanation of symbolic acts and artifacts for the purpose of understanding rhetorical processes” (Foss, 2009, p. 6). When it comes to the environment, however, there is a singular strain of rhetoric that frames the narrative and animates the discourse. This is apocalyptic rhetoric.

Apocalyptic Rhetoric

Apocalyptic rhetoric often states a tragic ending “a date or temporal horizon beyond which human choice is superfluous, a final Judgment that forecloses all individual judgments” (O’Leary, 1993, p. 409). Indeed, the metaphor of the apocalypse is an overriding one in environmental discourse given its ability to enhance deliberation on changing behavior (Buell, 1995; Johnson, 2009; Killingsworth & Palmer, 1992, 1996; O’Leary, 1993).

According to O’Leary (1993), apocalypse has come to symbolize “discourse that reveals or makes manifest a vision of ultimate destiny” (p. 385). This vision is closely tied to the biblical book of Revelations out of which O’Leary demarcates both the tragic ending for perpetrators of evil and a blissful (comic) one for the faithful (p. 387). The tragic ending signifies catastrophe if humanity refuses to turn back to the path of righteousness (p. 409). The comic approach, on the other hand, promotes “ethical subtlety” with the possibility of (humans) correcting course to avert catastrophe.

To extend the meaning of apocalypse, Killingsworth and Palmer (1996) pair apocalyptic rhetoric with millennial ecology to describe a singular approach to environmentalism that employs “apocalyptic narratives” and “images of future destruction … to predict the fall of current technocapitalist order” (p. 42, 22). The authors invite the public to see a new world order that may be both good and bad (end of what we know). They offer millennial rhetoric as a “shock tactic” painting an irreparable image while at the same time compelling individuals to reclaim their agency to halt impending doom. In the same vein, Evans (2018) proposes a “reinvented form of apocalypse … that requires acknowledgement of apocalyptic possibility without reinscription of apocalyptic certainty” (p. 506). Such a reading of apocalyptic discourse, Evans argues, allows room for coexisting with the affordances of modernity and their effects on the environment because we cannot return to an “environmental utopia” (p. 506).

Johnson (2009) expands on this sentiment by evoking the term apocalyptic to describe a “gesture towards future disaster” (p. 33) unless something is done. She argues that the environment is scientific and thus evokes scientific language such as statistics, process, data (p. 32) to bear on the weight of scientific authority. These “inartistic proofs” (Aristotle) can also be a stoic form of appeal (p. 32), she argues. Apocalyptic rhetoric contains both present and future destruction and thus is aimed not so much at inaction as it is at action (Johnson, 2009, p. 35). Our actions have brought about this, but our inactions (unsustainable acts) have also brought about this ill. Such is the rhetoric that rests on the claim that “the world is coming to an end” (O’Leary, 1993, p. 400). This claim has to resonate with an audience in order for it to gain transaction. And resonance is often tied to threat and impending implosion (not a distant future). Thus, the audience latches onto this narrative by wanting to understand the threat and when it will occur. In addition, Foust and O’Shannon Murphy (2009) offer that tragic apocalyptic frame seals human fate, while the comic leaves room for redemption. This latter framing allows for continued engagement and action in averting crisis.

Apocalypse rhetoric while fear inducing motivates meaningful cooperation among concerned individuals even as it makes them culpable by eliciting emotions of fear, lack, and ruin. This is because apocalyptic discourse accentuates calamity. And in driving the emotion of fear, apocalyptic rhetoric hopes to elicit engagement with the catastrophe and consequently change in behavior to avert it. As Garrard (2012) argues, apocalyptic rhetoric polarizes people, engenders violence and paranoia, and produces crisis as much as it responds to it. The danger conveyed by apocalyptic rhetoric is both “immanent and underway” (p. 103).

Foust and O’Shannon Murphy (2009) build on O’Leary’s (1993) work to posit that the construction of the tragic and comic apocalyptic frames is “distinguishable through their construction of agency, temporality, and telos” (p. 155). While the tragic forecloses on any form of redemption by human intervention, the comic frame assigns some agency to humans “giving them some play in influencing their fate” (p. 155). Either framing can either doom or mobilize public action in mitigating the predicted effects.

These scholars see value and persistence in apocalyptic rhetoric in that fear of disaster is harnessed as a force for good. It prompts us to imagine the world we know as fundamentally altered not just by cosmic forces but by human activity. Choosing a frame of response, tragic or comic determines how the community responds. As Garrard argues, the comic mode is appropriate where the rhetoric is “not about anticipating the end of the world, but about attempting to avert it by persuasive means” (99) within the commonplaces, the locus of individuals’ everyday lived experiences.

Commonplaces

In rhetorical studies, complex arguments are made accessible to the general public through invoking familiar topics (topos) and commonplaces (loci). Discussing these concepts fully is beyond the scope of this article because as Corbett (1986) lamented, Aristotle did not explicitly define the term (topos). The abridged version is that topos is understood as a place of common knowledge, the place in which an argument is developed and where ideas circulate. This concept of place often invokes Aristotle’s topoi and Cicero’s loci (Leff, 1996; Miller, 2000). While for the Sophists, topos might refer to the method of inventing arguments pertaining to an issue, to Aristotle topos were heuristics that rhetors could assemble in search of arguments in any given situation (Rhetoric 2.22.13; 1396b). Cicero, on the other hand, redefined the meaning of “common” and “special” allowing that arguments can be made on the basis of shared assumptions (Cicero,1993 De Inventione). Thus, emotional appeals to common sense work just as well as appeals to logic because to Cicero, commonplaces work to “amplify” logical arguments. It is from this interpretation that modern rhetoric perceives commonplace as shared ideas or assumptions (Bartholomae, 2005; Crowley & Hawhee, 2012; Leff, 1996). These commonplaces according to Leff “are complete products that integrate logical argument, emotional appeal, and style into a single structure” (p. 448).

Similarly, Quintilian (1963) suggests that topics and locations (loci) are necessary in invention (De inventione 1.34). Particularly, Quintilian offers that the material doxa reflects place and culture shared by an audience, and doxa is, in some respects, hunting grounds for ideas that resonate with particular audiences. Moreover, in Ad Herennium, the word loci names both rhetorical commonplaces and “artificial memory [that] includes backgrounds [loci] and images” (3.29). This particular reference to memory is imagistically connected to memory as an aid in mnemonic recall. Since for Aristotle, rhetoric begins with specific places and maxims, topos, loci, and commonplaces are central to inventing argument and making meaning.

In more contemporary work, Miller (2000) argues that the topoi are places of discovery where “creation, novelty and innovation are possible” (p. 137). Drawing argument from the doxa, Lanham (1991) defined commonplaces as “a general argument, observation, or description a speaker could memorize for use on any number of possible occasions” (p. 110). Examples of commonplaces manifest in the ways communicators frame arguments and explain complex topics in attempt to motivate the public to act, such as in cases of disease outbreaks and attendant risks. By referencing topics that are “applicable in common” (Aristotle, 2007, 1.2.21; Ross, 2010, p. 92), hence commonplaces, rhetors are able to evoke the familiar, the well-known, and perhaps, well-regarded habits. Commonplaces are useful in communicating risk because they can “incorporate contradictions, refer to shared culture, invoke shared experience, and orient to relationships among participants” (Myers, 2007, p. 287). Understood that way, commonplaces “become reliable heuristics on which to build persuasive arguments” (Gries, 2018, p. 3). Once arguments are constructed as commonplaces, they are then circulated as ideas, as praxis, or rules of thumb and begin to function as building blocks for organizing and circulating topics (Gries, 2018).

In environmental rhetoric, Myers and Macnaghten (1998) first invoked “commonplaces” to characterize shared perspectives embedded in everyday practices to help promote sustainability. Their research helped us understand how communicators engage with the public to affect their perception of risk and how it can be mitigated through their actions in everyday practice. This expansive reading of the role of rhetoric as not just finding the available means of persuasion but “negotiating the substance of discourse” (Waddell, 1995, p. 208) fits within the realm of what Paliewicz (2014) has labeled “public expertise” (p. 45) whereby public experts bring together expert and local knowledge of “participants in environmentally affected communities” (p. 45). Ultimately, rhetorical strategies that capitalize on commonplaces are reflective of the culture in question along with their shared practices and norms, making risk communication possible.

As Karis (2000) notes “rhetoric’s role in environmental issues should be to help people discover how to synthesize and mesh technical knowledge with human values” (p. 233). Day Zero certainly presents as one of those situations [that] call for this kind of discourse. Given that commonplaces are ultimately a function of rhetoric, it is fitting that the link between culture as a “primary base” for constituting, knowledge, and making meaning (Van Gorp, 2007, p. 61) becomes a bridge within the communication situation. Commonplaces are embedded in topics aimed to create a reality that audiences can interpret and make meaning out of. That renders commonplaces shared tools between the purveyors of knowledge and their target audiences.

Visual Circulation

Paired with visual circulation, commonplaces take on visual, verbal, and textual forms. For the general public, images play a crucial role in circulating risk communication and are thus worth examining for the rhetorical functions they serve in engaging the public on given topics (Finnegan, 2010). Aiding in circulation in the era of hashtag activism are digital technologies and their ability to “influence the flow, reach and impact of discourse” (Gries, 2018, p. 15). The reach of hashtags exemplifies the power of circulation with material consequences. Their capacity to spread and circulate is made possible by, among other things, their generative power that serve as topoi to gain mass attraction and become places where new arguments are invented (Edward & Lang, 2018, p. 123); their affective and affecting power to move, provoke, agitate, and incite; and assemblage, where the hashtag takes on agency, sustains discussions on the subject through images, interfaces, and so on (p. 129). Suddenly, digital activism takes on material consequence.

It is in this vein therefore that I examine the rhetorics of the digital campaign waged by the city of Cape Town to defeat Day Zero. The case of Day Zero exemplifies apocalyptic rhetoric and functions as “both common topics of environmental rhetoric and commonplaces” (Ross, 2013, p. 92). Consistent with the way they are held in rhetorical studies, commonplaces integrate forms of appeal (logos, pathos ethos) as communicative acts aimed at motivating action.

Research Approach: Rhetorical Criticism and Commonplaces

This project aims to answer the question: What rhetorics are at play in the campaign to Defeat Day Zero? To answer this question, I examined the composition and design of the Day Zero campaign artifacts, based on Foss’ (2004) labeling of the symbols or objects of analysis “symbolic acts” or “artifacts” (p. 6). These artifacts labeled #DefeatDayZero were publicly available on the City’s website where they were expressly packaged to be circulated.

According to Foss, rhetorical criticism is “a qualitative research method that is designed for the systematic investigation and explanation of symbolic acts and artifacts for the purpose of understanding rhetorical processes” (p. 6). Rhetorical criticism, according to Foss, is akin to “the grounded theory approach” to analyzing data (1989, p. 194). It is amenable to advancing knowledge about communication and related public messages “within a larger framework of knowledge about human communication and cultural persuasion” (Pierce, 2003, p. 31). Given that the data for this study are design artifacts circulated by policy makers, they can be studied for their language, meaning, and intended outcome (Foss, 2004; Schwandt, 2005) and can help us learn why they worked well enough to push back Day Zero.

Relatedly, the cultural diversities in that part of the world as well as differences in their respective communication patterns were of interest. Thus, because communication acts draw from communities within and for which the communication is intended, I wanted to study how these messages were constructed from and reflected the “commonplaces” of Cape Town because as Myers and Macnaghten (1998) indicate, statements that attract agreement and consensus are empowered by being perceived as commonsense within particular communities.

And because rhetoric, as scholars have noted, has always been about the “circulation of ideas, feelings, and mores through the socius,” I wanted to understand this new momentum that circulation has gained in the era of technological and even theoretical developments (Rickert, 2018, p. 300). Understanding circulation’s transformative power enabled me to examine the extent to which these artifacts influenced and affected response to the campaign to #DefeatDayZero.

Together, Foss’s rhetorical criticism and Myers and Macnaghten (1998) commonplaces, along with Gries (2018) visual circulation, helped me understand how the Defeat Day Zero artifacts created a reality that influenced Capetonians’ behavior.

Because this approach assumes a receiver-centered perspective, it seemed useful in examining how those rhetorical claims might be interpreted by the public. My selection of artifacts was made easy because they had been easily packaged in one place by the #DefeatDayZero campaign. Because they were carefully designed and orchestrated, these artifacts establish a communication pattern that might explain the influence of historical, social, political, and economic contexts in their creation and within the broader framework of environmental rhetoric that offers itself as a study of “rhetoric in use” (Grogan, 2014, p. 4). The practical nature of this rhetoric is such that it engages the traditional uses of logical, ethical, and emotional appeals in deliberations about engaging the public on matters of science. Killingsworth and Palmer’s (1992) work in Ecospeak is instrumental in establishing this continuum between rhetoric as the basis upon which governments can connect with the public concerning the environment (p. 15).

Foss (2004) describes a basic four-step approach to doing rhetorical criticism:

select an artifact;

Foss suggests selecting artifacts that “contain the kinds of data” that “intrigue, baffle, or excite” the critic (p. 12). This gave me latitude on the appropriate artifacts or number of artifacts to analyze.

Data: #DefeatDayZero Artifacts

An artifact is defined as “the data of the study – the rhetorical act, event or product” (Foss, 2004, p. 12). Artifacts must also be a product of institutional practices and thus reflect the stance of the decision makers.

The artifacts analyzed in the study were downloaded from the #DefeatDayZero, n.d. campaign site. The site contained a hefty trove of images and texts designed specifically for the campaign and packaged in a downloadable folder. These artifacts were constitutive of and constituted by the city of Cape Town. The campaign’s website as well as Facebook and Twitter feeds circulated additional communication content. The meaning contained in these texts “communicat[ed] signals” to the intended audience (van Leeuwen & Jewitt, 2001). They also reflect commonplaces that “incorporate contradictions, refer to shared culture, invoke shared experience, and orient to relationships among participants” (Myers, 2007, p. 287).

I examined a total of eight artifacts named: (a) I Pledge to Defeat Day Zero, (b) I Pledge Act now, (c) We Must Defeat Day Zero, (d) Water-Saving Tips, (e) So You Only Have 50 L a Day, (f) Three Things, (g) Report Water Wasters, and (h) Follow the progress. I analyzed the artifacts’ arguments for action “both stated and implied” (Myers & Macnaghten, 1998).

Even though the artifacts are listed separately, I considered them as one because the campaign appears to have been carefully orchestrated throughout, and all of the artifacts have a consistency that suggests they are really parts of a larger rhetorical work. And, Foss (2004) argues, focusing on a representative set of artifacts is sufficient because they are symbolic of an ongoing rhetorical process and phenomenon (p. 8).

Recurring in each artifact was the (water)logo, which worked as the driving force. It drew attention to the looming crisis and called for altering water consumption and committing to change. These artifacts, a product of decision makers in charge of the campaign to Defeat Day Zero, circulated widely on broadcast and social media, posted on billboards along the highways, and reified what was important for Cape Town and the necessary steps to secure that goal. The city itself provided images monitoring the level of water in the dams, changes based on water usage, and the average water usage on a daily basis as shown in Figure 1.

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Figure 1.

City of Cape Town dam levels daily report.

Figure 1 is titled City of Cape Town Dam Levels Report. It contains the Seal of the city and is dated July 9, 2018. It is divided into three columns: Dam Storage, Weekly Dam Level Change, and Avg Daily Water Usage. In each of these columns are figures reflecting the percentage of water in the dam, weekly changes, and average daily usage. This image is one of the tools used to track water use. It was made public so Capetonians could visually see weekly updates on dam levels and water use and perhaps adjust their behavior accordingly.

Analyzing the Artifacts

Step 2 in Foss’s approach to rhetorical criticism is analysis. German (1985) lists five questions necessary to capture the essence of the artifact through comparison. This process helps to “reveal unique characteristics … which characterize a group of similar artifacts” (p. 89).

I studied the design and structure of the artifacts for recurring patterns and language framing these ideas. I came to see that each artifact was part of the whole campaign. Having established that, I examined the artifacts to find “common denominators” (German, 1985, p. 89) that conveyed the function of each and the messages that were being conveyed. This exercise yielded what appeared to be key terms or themes, and claims emerging from the artifacts, a process outlined by, among others, Foss (2004) and Engstrom (2010).

The rhetoric emerging evidenced terms or themes referencing water-saving activities and water use. And I began to see a logic or pattern inherent in these artifacts that progressed as follows: (a) pre-crisis, calling attention to the impending catastrophe, (b) height of the crisis, issuing instructions on how to deal with it, (c) monitoring water use, and (iv) postcrisis, updating the public on water levels because of the water-saving measures now in place. Together, these four topoi construct a strong apocalyptic argument that drove the campaign to defeat Day Zero. I highlighted the key words and developed a table depicting the distinct rhetorical categories used to frame the water campaign. That content is shown in Table 1.

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Table 1.

Rhetorical Categories Framing the Water Campaign.

Objective	Headings of the artifacts
Attention	I pledge to defeat Day ZeroI pledgeAct now. We must defeat Day ZeroThe logo
Instructions	Water-saving tipsSo you only have 50 L a dayThree things
Monitor	Report water wasters
Updates	Follow the progress

While commonplaces rely on “formulaic language” as Myers (1998, p. 291) has noted, this language is not fixed. Instead, its commonness is revealed in the way the public responds to it. The #DefeatDayZero visuals depict the intentional choices and corresponding actions as commonplaces related to water use, which the public recognized as being the sort of things people use water for.

Attention

The rhetoric surrounding Day Zero as is most environmental rhetoric is situated in an apocalyptic argument. The artifacts for attention are rooted in apocalyptic rhetoric and are focused on calling attention to the singular environmental catastrophe that is Day Zero. Through the linguistic, visual, and materials design, they draw attention to the dangers lurking in the city in ways that elicit fear and leave no implication as to the looming danger. The apocalyptic narrative serves only to draw attention as the artifacts, framed in comic apocalyptic terms, suggest a way out of the catastrophe.

Figure 2 presents the artifacts of attention which are three in total. They include a Water logo, Picture Overlay, and ACT NOW. We must DEFEAT DAY ZERO. They are designed in bold typeface, contain a terse wording, and are graphically adorned with a straight black line against a blue/teal background. They reiterate the key message of the campaign. They capitalize on commonplaces and employ visual circulation using wording that appears fragmented but intended to “achieve certain ideological goals” (Gries, 2018, p. 3).

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Figure 2.

Artifacts of attention.

The profile Pic artifact requires the user to pair the provided image with the user’s personal image, an element of circulation. Modifying the logo with the user’s image actuates the physical community of Cape Town in a material way. There is clear epideictic intention of portraying association as good and positive by the visual connection with the user’s personal image, striking emotional chords of seriousness and gravity, but also of hopefulness.

The simple act of the user’s self-identification with the campaign slogan imbues it with material reality that propels the artifact beyond its immediate sphere. The Day Zero campaign depends on the public’s circulation and modifying of these images with the user who chooses to situate his or her face inside the Day Zero logo signaling commitment to the cause. As the artifact circulates, it takes on affective power with other publics, creating other forms of memory (Gries, 2018). The user is self-identifying with a cause connected to the greater good of the larger community. The statement, I Pledge to #DefeatDayZero is a clear self-declaration of personal responsibility and inclusiveness.

Circulation aids the campaign to “reassemble the social” (Latour, 2005). ACT NOW. We must DEFEAT DAY ZERO, which is a Facebook banner aimed to be deployed via users’ pages, where it takes on wider circulation. It calls attention in a bold, succinct manner, with its logic framed in an implied dichotomy—Defeat Day Zero (or be defeated) as it reiterates the key message of the campaign. The branded logo now has a personal face that can be shared on social media, where it undergoes “change in terms of location, form, media, genre, and function” (Gries, 2013, p. 335).

The logical certainty in the appeal: pick a side and commit is evident in the Facebook banner’s inclusive language encoded in the we in the phrase “we must defeat Day Zero.” The inclusive language evokes ethos borne out of the strength of the peer relationship—the essence of commonplaces. We share a sense of personal responsibility for the greater good of the community. Because this message will be shared in the social media network, the rhetoric is framed as benefitting the community of Cape Town, even as the sense of urgency is communicated through the phrases “must do,” “right now,” “act now,” and “we must” with the sense of immediacy enhanced through the minimalistic instructions.

This picture overlay offers an avenue for public engagement, where, as T. B. Farrell and Goodnight (1981) offer, public expertise can empower the public to challenge a priori decisions made on their behalf thereby creating “new spaces for engagement” (cited in Paliewicz, 2014, p. 45). Under this theme of attention, the artifacts convert policy discussions of water use to everyday acts that the public can identify with. These acts are commonplaces, habits that can change. They attract attention in ways that are meaningful to local publics by drawing on efficient ways to widely disseminate those messages (Currie, 2013).

Instructions

The type of communication in the instructions artifacts rely on commonplaces to convey knowledge that intersects public actions embedded in the everyday social interaction. The City’s means of persuasion for water conservation are rooted in its knowledge of the public’s common water uses. It is out of those practices that specific information on how to launder, cook, wash, clean, and so forth are outlined. From these images, the public can make connections and infer practical ways to conserve water. The public is not simply receiving these messages; it is being actively recruited in carrying out these instructions. The artifacts Water-Saving Tips, So You Only Have 50 L A Day, and Three Things lay out these directives.

There are three visuals in this batch. The first is designed as a poster with bold first-level heading in white and a second-level heading in black. The bulk of the poster contains icons for water use, including a toilet, a faucet, and showerhead.

These artifacts successfully translate scientific, semiotic, and values into actionable knowledge. Using arrangement to emphasize categories, formulas, comparisons, they highlight common water use practices. That formula is taken up in 3 Things that must be done, by illustrating those three things with clear iconography to accompany the simple instructions. The same goes for 50 L a Day in which the public is treated to specific data, specifically, the exact measures of water deemed acceptable use. The imperative voice, a universal standard in technical instructions along with the formulaic power of the appeal, connects these three actions with the community goal of defeating Day Zero. The public may associate this visual with other emergency infographics (such as found posted in workplaces) that provide instructions to avert disaster. The instructions make acceding to the actions a matter of common sense, which gestures to the hegemonic knowledge this society values.

The visuals are packaged in poster format with bold first-level heading in white and a second-level heading in black. The bulk of the poster contain icons for water use, including a water bottle, pet water bowl, toilet, a faucet, and showerhead and several more spelling out what can be done with 50 L a day in a household. The color palate is of a blue or teal background.

All the artifacts in this category use a careful combination of text and images and make use of commonplaces of water conservation by using imperatives such as We must, act now, you must do right now, what you can do. The images of showerheads, faucets, toilets, water bottles, dishes, and dog bowl help shape the discourse surrounding water use and project the desired outcome. Moreover, the poster spells out the activities in the household and how much water each activity ought to consume, such as “cooking 2 litres, dog bowl 1 litre, Daily hygiene 3 litres, dishes and laundry, 18 litres” (50 L). The commonplaces in this category connect specific daily activities with specific water amounts. In this sense, the pieces are instructional, providing corresponding measurements with directions for usage.

Scholarship by T. B. Farrell and Goodnight (1981) in which accidental discourse happens when “discourse fails to fulfill ordinary epistemological and axiological expectations” (p. 272) helps us understand these artifacts. When crisis defies discourse (p. 273), it gives way to “reflective participation” (T. Farrell, 1993, p.199) of water conservation. Rather than leave Capetonians to determine their own water use, the city directs, instructs, and offers guidance on how to use gray water, mindful that water related diseases could break out if not careful. On the whole, these instructions pair theory with visual imagery. In the process, a coherent narrative of environmental rhetoric as it pertains to its many facets—science, technical knowledge, society, ethics, aesthetics, economics, emerges. Moreover, as Aristotle demonstrates, a topos is an argumentation scheme, which the artifacts express in the recurring phrase: ACT NOW. WE MUST DEFEAT DAY ZERO. The argument is expressed by the proposition: “if one … then the other” (Rubinelli, 2009), which we see in the language if we do not act now, we will not defeat Day Zero. The last part left unstated is a syllogism. Topos then is a rhetorical persuasive device.

In Water-Saving Tips (Figure 3), the artifact’s composition identifies, by inclusion, which activities should be pursued by the public. This artifact begins with a concise definition of Day Zero what ought to be done to prevent it and the consequences for everyone if Day Zero happens. It then encourages the reader to think not in terms of “me, I, mine” but as “us, we, our.” This element articulates functions as an instructional guide designed to prescribe acceptable actions, serves an explanatory function (clarifying what is meant by “act now”), and articulates expectations of response (source: http://bit.ly/DayZeroWaterSavingTips).

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Figure 3.

(a and b) Instructions artifacts, (c) breakdown of water usage of 13 gal per person per day, and (d) water-saving tips artifact.

The visual layout of the document is spatial. It follows a clear logic of spatial arrangement, moving from the innermost part of the home (the bathroom) through the house to the most public areas of the home (gardens, lawns, and swimming pool). Its orderly, symmetrical, balanced blocks of visual and textual elements appeal, not to a sense of urgency or danger, but to commonplaces and the obligations inherent. Because it resembles other type of official instructions, the impulse to question or doubt is effectively marginalized.

This piece is a comprehensive list of things you can do (cook, bathe, and flush); thus, the public could be expected to conclude that things that are not included should probably be left out altogether. The graphic icons represent normal commonplace activities and convey the idea of which activities and what amounts of water are acceptable. In combination, they allow the “body to … agree with the thought … and eyes to indicate the feelings of the mind” (Cicero, De Oratore). As Paliewicz (2014) shows, visual in environment-related communication encapsulate the problem and suggested solution (p. 45). They must therefore be carefully designed lest they “reify diagrams of power that may exclude marginalized groups from public participation” (p. 46).

Monitor

Report Water Wasters is a singular artifact in the monitoring category that serves an accusatory circulatory function. Issued at the height of the crisis, Report Water Wasters deputized the public to police water wastage. At this point in the crisis, ethos of collective responsibility was in full force and is reflected in the layout that gives readers the choice of how to comply, not a choice of whether to comply (see Figure 4).

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Figure 4.

Report transgressors to toll-free hotlines, e-mail, and text messages.

The visuals in the artifact are icons that represent not so much the objects (e.g., the skeuomorphic envelope/e-mail symbol) as they do the actions associated with the objects (calling, e-mailing, and texting), all of which perform a circulating function. This piece evokes urgency and an immediate, if austere, command. The imperative language entertains no doubt about the action requested of the public and provides no room for discussion of the implications of the actions prescribed. The accusatory phase, water wasters, is an effective tool of shame/blame that sets the reader (a responsible citizen) at odds with the wasters. The responsible citizen is further exemplified as one who will fulfill the prescribed duty of reporting wasters to the authorities. By enlisting the reader into this action, the rhetor grants membership into the us community. This act reflects the notion that during a crisis, the technical expertise has to be balanced with actionable knowledge that the public can engage. And this visual demonstrates that.

Updates

The updates artifact is postcrisis and it shows. This artifact takes a turn from the others in terms of design, presentation, and purpose and features time stamped excerpts of progressive coverage of the water crisis. Listed in descending order, the first, September 10, 2018, City relaxes water restrictions; August 20, 2018, Dam levels above 60% for the first time since 2016; and June 28 2018, No day Zero for 2019. Artifacts in this category serve as progress reports that signal a sense of accountability to the public, even as they chronicle the progression of the city’s fight against the drought. Day Zero had been averted, or at least pushed back, which was the campaign’s intent (Figure 5).

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Figure 5.

Updates.

The Updates poster contains text in three sections mapping the trajectory of the water crisis in the city. At the bottom is the text: Current Situation.

Updates in communicating risk mitigate apocalyptic narrative and the fear inherent in the sentiment that “if we do nothing, the world as we know it will vanish” (see Johnson, 2009). By signaling that the efforts to Defeat Day Zero have paid off, the city is congratulatory in naming the “water-savvy residents” of the city of Cape Town as responsible for this win. By owning their water conservation efforts in “we have demonstrated what we can achieve,” the city credits the measures adopted in the lead up to this accomplishment. Residents are labeled “water conservers” (unlike the water wasters of yore) and subtly reminded of the coming summer months when, presumably, rainfall levels are lower. The public is thanked for continuing to “use as little water as possible” to “preserve” the existing water.

The final update dated September 10 is unambiguously titled City relaxes water restrictions. There is no hedging as to who is responsible, “Capetonians’ phenomenal water conservation efforts.” It then details what that relaxation means: 70 L per person per day to meet the city’s target of 500 million liters per day. This update also ends on a cautionary note: The rainfall in the region is “unpredictable,” so the water conservation efforts remain in place. Recall that at the height of the crisis, residents were restricted to 50 L of water a day and in November of 2018, water allowance went up to 105 L (Ziervogel, 2019).

The updates demonstrate mutual accountability between the city officials and the ordinary publics. In addition to clarifying the shared responsibilities and roles it takes to conserve water, the updates also communicate the technical and institutional relations that need to be maintained as they invite the public to see a new world order made possible by a collective effort the result of compelling individuals to reclaim their agency.

The Recurring Logo

The recurring logo of a drop of water was imprinted on all the communication associated with the campaign to Defeat Day Zero. A drop of water is canonical in environmental discourse about water—its preciousness, its abundance, and its precarity (Figure 6).

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Figure 6.

Water logo.

The water logo appears on all the posters and other communication related to Day Zero.

The logo, framed in both tragic and comic variations, is an iconic and vivid depiction of water as a precious and scarce (soon to disappear) resource whose loss spells doom. However, water as a precious good signifies the comic variation (of apocalyptic rhetoric) as it communicates to the public that choosing wisely from the instructions artifacts will help them adapt to reduced water use and result in pushing back Day Zero.

Its recurrence in the campaign artifacts is itself a circulating mechanism that provides direct connection with the public in that it is both big picture water and water in your faucet, your glass, your pool. The drop of water, a convergence of everything about this crisis, brings together technology, science, nature, politics, economics, sociocultural practices, and domestic life. Its constant recurrence reinforces the message of water and the need to sustain it. It helps the public coconstruct a reality to which it can fit its actions. By appealing to unity in “we all need water,” it serves as an organizing principle for #DefeatDayZero to explain the precarious reality pertaining to water. The idea of unity is packaged in the way particular words and images embody certain meaning (Rose, 2012) in a form of intertextuality. What meaning emerges from this interaction of text and image (Metcalfe, 2015) implies a logical connection between ideas alluding to similarity and making causal claims.

The water logo is as commonplace and as circulatory as it gets. Its recurrence emphasizes the connections all Capetonians have to water, its simultaneous abundance and scarcity, harking back to Xhamissa, and the reason for the city’s founding. And so, its connection with Day Zero cannot be overemphasized. The metaphor of the logo was portent in the way it was deployed as a symbol of scarcity and of value.