Abstract
This article introduces a framework for analysing multimodal legitimation. Building upon work on legitimation by Van Leeuwen and Van Dijk, a six-layer framework is proposed. This framework pulls together the main aspects of legitimation – seen as a complex and multifaceted concept and practice – which need to be looked into if we are to fully appreciate its functioning in general or any specific instance of its deployment. Using the proposed framework, a video, produced by the Scottish National Party (SNP) encouraging a ‘Yes’ vote in the Scottish referendum on independence, is analysed.
Keywords
Introduction
The purposes of this article are, first, to introduce a framework for analysing multimodal legitimation and, secondly, to use the framework to analyse a video, Two Futures (Greenroom Films UK, 2013), commissioned by the Scottish National Party (SNP), encouraging a ‘Yes’ vote in the Scottish referendum on independence, held on 18 September 2014.
The framework I propose draws on the Discourse-Historical Approach (DHA) pioneered under Wodak and van Leeuwen (1999) with features of the social semiotic approach exemplified in work by Kress (2010) and Van Leeuwen (2005), together with the two models of legitimation proposed by Van Leeuwen (2007a, 2007b) and Van Dijk (2006). This theoretical splicing – taking elements from Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA), DHA and social semiotics – is intended to fill an analytical gap identified by Van Leeuwen (2007a), which notes the fundamental role played in legitimation by discourses of moral values, but adds that this gap needs to be filled with historical-discourse analysis.
The framework takes account of the complexity of legitimation, approaching it not only as a process (how legitimacy is achieved), and as a state (how it is manifested), but also as a concept: what qualities define what it is to be legitimate, and to what extent are these bound by context? Scotland exists with devolved powers, as part of a Western, democratic state, in the 21st century, with a past of independence. What denomination in the currency of legitimacy does Union have as compared with independence, single nationhood with a united kingdom, precedence with pragmatics, romance with risk? These aspects of political–historical context combine with more practical concerns involved in making a political advertisement, such as considerations of budget, political advertising law and timescales (e.g. how long the ad is to run, how long the production company has to create it, how long it is to be).
The video is a piece of political advertising: that is, a piece of propaganda. What forms of legitimacy do we expect from such multimodal material? What features and requirements are set by the genre of political advertising, and how do they affect our understanding of its legitimacy in situ?
The ad: Two Futures
Two Futures begins with the voice of the ad’s principal narrator, Kirsty, who says, over the sound of a gentle heartbeat, then over the strain of a nostalgic fiddle, ‘Hi, my name’s Kirsty. I’m going to be born in 2014, on the very same day as the referendum on independence for Scotland. The question is, what kind of country will I grow up in?’ What we see on our screen is the ultra scan image of a healthy, mature foetus in a womb, head and heart developed. Then, when Kirsty poses her question, the scene changes to show an out-of-focus mother and newborn by a bright window. This sets the scene for the rest of the ad, in which we see different stages of Kirsty’s girlhood – at home, outside, with family and with friends.
From baby to toddler, through girlhood to teenhood, we see Kirsty in her domestic context, also seeing, through her narrative, her father graduate and become a suited (read ‘responsible’) worker. The ad is structured throughout this part by Kirsty asking us four variations on the question: will the Scotland of her childhood be like this or like that? The positive options are the ones aligned with Scottish independence in the view of the SNP, and filmed in colour, with a Scottish music soundtrack. The negative options are the ones aligned with staying in the Union (as the SNP projections have it) and are filmed in black and white, with a sad solo piano accompaniment.
This main section finishes, and as we follow a teenage Kirsty on a bike ride, we hear a voice-over in the distinctive tones of Alex Salmond, leader of the SNP and First Minister of Scotland, with the music changed to more modern Scottish folk-rock. He reiterates the ‘choices’, and as Kirsty arrives at her destination – a promenade bench looking out to sea, on which sits a young man (presumably her date) – he declares, ‘That [Independence] has got to be the right choice for Scotland; for all our people, and for children like Kirsty’. Then, over the same music, now louder, we get a visual recap of Kirsty’s life up to her teens. As the recap and the ad draw to a close, we are addressed by her again, this time just vocally: ‘So, when that day in 2014 arrives, and I arrive, please vote “Yes”; for Scotland, for yourself, and for your children’s future’.
I strongly recommend that anyone interested view the ad. It can be found through an Internet search for ‘Two Futures, SNP’ or, at time of writing, can be watched at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qetvDbl4Xfs&;feature=kp
Literature review
This article has developed out of a larger piece of work (Mackay, 2013), which means that the literature which informs it is more extensive than it is useful to summarise here. That being the case, I will situate my work briefly and broadly before concentrating on the literature that is essential to my framework in its present application. Kress and Van Leeuwen (1996), Kress (2010), Jewitt (2009), Bignell (2002) and Van Leeuwen (2005) have been of primary importance in drawing out questions concerning both how multimodal analyses can be conducted and the discursive and necessarily political dimension which a social semiotics entails. Van Leeuwen’s (2007b, 2009a, 2009b, 2011, 2012) work on the social semiotic analysis of colour, music and voice has been particularly important for my analysis of these features in the ad.
For work on legitimation beyond that already mentioned, I have focused on Habermas (1976, 1991, 1993, see also Outhwaite, 1994) and Weber (see Beetham, 1991). In any discussion of legitimation, Habermas is bound to loom large. Two elements in his work are particularly pertinent to this discussion. The first is his insistence (marking him out from Weber and Rawls) that both values and norms are housed within discourse. 1 The second is that discourse, as Habermas conceives it, is not modally restricted. Rather, it is restricted by the requirement of being (1) accessible to all and (2) non-coercive. Thus, the discourse by which legitimation can be achieved is a ‘form of communication’ encompassing public opinion, the output of political groupings, philosophising such as his own, as well as all academia and pedagogy. Although this article does not delve deeply into the ins and outs of a Habermasian conception of legitimation, the idea that legitimation resides in a discourse which is at its very core amenable to multimodality is fundamental to the rest of the argument. Forchtner’s (2011) discussion of the relationship between the DHA and the Frankfurt School further strengthens the rationale for linking the analytical approach and a study of legitimation.
A working definition of legitimation is the following: the process by which the exertion of power by one person, group or political body over another is made to be – and maintained as being – acceptable to those over whom power is wielded. Legitimation is often understood as having a quality of being taken for granted, both by those who wield power and by those who have power wielded over them.
Analysing a text for its legitimating elements starts with asking which features legitimate and which do not. Because legitimatory force is contextually, culturally and temporally bound, an element that is legitimatory in the analysis of one text may not be so in another. Similarly, an element might be legitimating in one culture, but not in another. Finally, the status of an element vis-à-vis legitimation will alter through time. Thus, in the analysis of this ad, for example, a Scottish accent may be judged to be legitimatory, while in other circumstances, accent may be viewed as entirely irrelevant. In this ad, the fact that a teenage girl takes a bike ride alone may be seen as legitimate, whereas in other cultures this would be seen as a delegitimating feature. Finally, in this 21st century multimodal text, the view of the sea from the shore may not appear to be involved in legitimation, whereas in bygone days, a view of the sea while calm may have been legitimatory. This begs the question, of course, of who decides what is legitimatory and what is not. The answer takes us back to Habermas: legitimatoriness (as well as legitimation) is discursively negotiated; it is ‘subjective’ rather than ‘objective’, yet shaped by the pressures of societal values and norms. For Habermas, the way out of circularity here is through the application of ‘critical rationalism’. 2 In pragmatic terms, this means that, for the analyst, the way out of circularity is to view anything as potentially legitimatory, but to be prepared to defend one’s analysis of what is through sound and rigorous argumentation.
A referendum on independence involves the individual, social and cognitive dimensions of national identity. The connection between social and personal identity has been a focus for social psychologists. Tajfel and Turner (1979), in their Social Identity Theory, pointed out the crucial role ingroup bias plays in forming and maintaining group cohesion. Three fundamental aspects of group membership were identified: the cognitive, the evaluative and the emotional (Tajfel, 1978). Although all three inform our group identities, we shall see that they are not considered equally legitimate targets for political persuasion. Moreover, since Tajfel’s initial formulations, there has been much work done in the area (Benwell and Stokoe, 2006; Billig, 1982, 1995; Milburn, 1991), which has revealed nuances, ambivalences and contradictions in how individuals relate to groups, mapping or transposing beliefs from the one onto the other and back again (Mackie and Smith, 2003).
Viewing identity – both individual and group – as a continual and dialogical process is a uniting feature within the field and plays a large role in work on nationalist identity. Tajfel, in formulating his ‘Humpty Dumpty’ definition of ‘group’, quotes the historian Emerson (1960): The simplest statement that can be made about a nation is that it is a body of people who feel that they are a nation; and it may be that when all the fine-spun analysis is concluded this will be the ultimate statement as well. (p. 102)
Note the primacy of feeling in the definition – not necessarily at the expense of our evaluative capabilities, but more fundamental.
The evolution of nationalism and the crucial role of language within it are discussed by Joseph (2004), who makes the following three points: (1) a potential people, ‘unless they have a shared name – which is to say, a national identity – […] will inevitably scatter’ (p. 95); (2) that ‘the brilliance of the concepts of nation and national language for these purposes is that they are defined crucially by difference from one’s closest neighbours’ (p. 106); and that (3) this need to identify – and name – difference within minutiae ‘endows even the smallest variation with huge cultural significance’ so that the ‘very essence of a nation can come to be seen as residing within some superficially insignificant idiosyncrasy’ (p. 106). In relation to the national status of Scotland, its prior existence as an independent nation (in the meaning-frame of the ad, ‘a true nation’) has given it a status that, for example, the northernmost English county, ‘Northumberland’, or, for that matter, the Scottish ‘Highlands’ and ‘Lowlands’, cannot lay claim to. Indeed, as those in greatest proximity, the people of Northumbria, traditionally and practically, have a great deal in common with those of the Scottish Borders. However, so as not to allow the muddy waters of cross-border identification to drown out the ‘authenticity’ of the national claim, as Joseph’s third point predicts, there is an essentialist use of accent-as-sign (see further the analysis below).
The use of visual and auditory signs – particularly where they may be cognitively ‘beneath the radar’ – has been discussed by Billig (1995). The relation of such signs to Tajfel’s triad of the cognitive, the evaluative and the emotional is pertinent here. The central function of signs of nationhoodness (such as the kilt, some ‘Celtic’ folk music, a Scottish accent or flag) is, in the context of a political ad, the arousing of emotions, not what they offer for rational evaluation. Flying over a government building, a flag both marks and confers official legitimacy, while its power as symbol is demonstrated by its being hoisted above contested centres of power, such as, most recently, buildings in the Ukraine and Crimea. Yet, what a flag represents is a submerged morass of emotions, feelings and histories. Informing these histories may be evaluative and rational arguments, but, again, what is primary is not the rational.
Analytical gap
In a 2007 article entitled ‘Legitimation in discourse and communication’, Van Leeuwen (2007a) identifies four types of legitimation, one of them being ‘moral evaluation’. However, he highlights the fact that terms of moral evaluation (e.g. clean, healthy, natural) sit on the ‘tip of a submerged iceberg of moral values’ (p. 97). They tap into moral concepts but do not engage with the ‘system of interpretation from which they derive’ (Van Leeuwen, 2007a). The concepts that underwrite our moral evaluation remain below the surface. Yet, insofar as moral evaluation is concerned with legitimation, and legitimation with the concept of power, the normativity moral evaluations entail is problematic (Van Dijk, 2008: 1). The ‘problem’ lies in the relativity of such normative concepts. Van Dijk (2008) writes, Such a normative notion (abuse is bad) requires analysis on terms of other normative notions and criteria of the social sciences, such as legitimacy, which in turn presuppose an applied ethics and moral philosophy. (p. 1)
Van Leeuwen (2007a), however, sets such considerations aside. In fact, he makes the following statement: it is not possible to find an explicit, linguistically motivated method for identifying moral evaluations of this kind.[…] The usefulness of linguistic discourse analysis stops at this point. Historical discourse research has to take over. (p. 98)
By this he means the sort of ‘discourse-historical analysis’ undertaken in Wodak and Van Leeuwen (1999). The line being drawn between linguistic- and historical-discourse analyses is an odd one and might not stand up to close scrutiny. As an identification of focus, however, it is clear enough, and it explains why Van Leeuwen does not attempt to incorporate a deeper analysis of legitimation by moral authority into his article while being sure to flag up the importance of what he leaves undone.
This gap in coverage pertains not just to one of his categories, but has implications for all four: (1) moral legitimation, (2) legitimation by authority, (3) legitimation by rationalisation and (4) legitimation by mythopoesis. If we accept his view that moral evaluations signal, index or draw upon a deeper store of moral values constantly being constructed, maintained and negotiated, then we are left to question which of his four types of legitimation do not ultimately rely upon this moral core. Legitimation by authority, rationalisation and mythopoesis, as well as that explicitly moral legitimation Van Leeuwen points to, all rely, I would argue, on a deeper store of moral values.
Blending theoretical approaches
In identifying the DHA as a method by which it is possible to investigate the basis and make-up of our moral evaluations, Van Leeuwen (2007a) adds that only the social and cultural historian can explain the moral status of these expressions by tracing them back to the moral discourses that underlie them, and by undoing the ‘genesis amnesia’ (Bourdieu) that allows us to treat such moral evaluations as commonsense values. (p. 98)
The DHA allows for explanation of the moral status, but it does not help identify the pragmatic features utilised by creators of texts or looked for in a CDA of a text. Van Dijk (2006) offers a list of (de)legitimation strategies applicable to written and spoken texts.
If we extend van Dijk’s ‘speech’ to include all semiotic production, the strategies he proposes are transposable to multimodal texts. (a ‘speech act’, then, will not be limited to writing or speaking).
I will take up each of the strategies in turn in order to illustrate this multimodal transposability with examples to follow later, in the analysis of the ad:
Overall interaction strategies. This is not specific to any particular mode or modes. Positivity and negativity can be expressed by colour, music, film, text, speech, sound and so on. Although contextually and culturally specific – and even then continually changing (Wang, 2013) – the ability to express positive and negative evaluations is an affordance of all the modes engaged in the ad. For my purposes, I shall simplify this label to ‘General strategy’.
Macro-speech act. Most ads are classified as either positive or negative. However, there are several frames for a negative message, for example, an accusation, a narrative causing fear, a mockery. Similarly, there are several ways in which a positive ad can be framed: a positive bio, an empathetic human interest, an endorsement and so on. I shall adopt van Dijk’s label ‘Macro-speech act’.
Semantic macrostructures/topic selection. This is applicable directly to the multimodal texts of the ad, although it is perhaps more likely that, simultaneous with the main topic selection, there will be undercurrents which speak of other topics. Of course, language allows for such implicit levels, but further modes can only extend this capacity. I shall simplify this label to ‘Topic selection’.
Local speech acts implementing and sustaining the global ones. As van Dijk says, a macro-speech act such as an accusation can be supported by local speech acts such as statements in support of the accusation. This is also true for multimodal texts, but, for my purposes, the focus needs to shift to measures taken in any mode which support the coherence of the text and its macro-speech act. I shall call this strategy ‘Supporting internal coherence’.
Local meanings, Our/Their positive/negative actions and Lexicon. These two strategies I shall take together. The tactic of emphasising the negative actions of one’s opponents and de-emphasising our own negative actions (and conversely with positive actions) is fundamental to legitimation. When we look at multimodal texts, we need to be aware that the lexicon denoting actors can be pre-defined (the colour of a political party, or ‘nation’, the designated symbol or mascot, the selected soundtrack to a specific actor’s campaign) or contextually defined. Furthermore, it is possible to be vague linguistically (e.g. not naming one’s opponent), while making it perfectly clear (visually, for instance) who or what is the intended target. I shall call this important and broad strategy ‘Semiotic lexicon’.
Local syntax. Van Dijk mentions the power of various linguistic constructions which (de)emphasise agency. The translation of these features into other modes reveals a complex and rich repository of resources, many of which are discussed in Kress and Van Leeuwen (1996). I shall expand this to a wider label of ‘Foregrounding/backgrounding’.
Rhetorical figures. Rhetorical devices such as visual metaphor and musical hyperbole have long been used and recognised (Blair, 1996; Forceville, 2009; Forceville and Urios-Aparisi, 2009; Scott, 1990, 2004; Scott and Batra, 2003). However, as linguistic concepts have grounded social semiotics to a large degree, the ‘discovery’ of this multimodal rhetoric has appeared as new (musicologists and those in history of art and film studies have a different disciplinary perspective). I shall adopt van Dijk’s label ‘Rhetorical figures’.
Expressions, sounds and visuals. This category is van Dijk’s accommodation of what is, in my own framework, not treated as additions or appendages, but rather as integral and central. It already figures in each of my categories and thus does not require a separate heading. Having described the changes I have made in order to incorporate some of van Dijk’s points into my own framework, I shall add two strategies requiring more salience in an approach tailored to multimodal texts.
Deixis. The use of deictic expressions to create temporal and spatial proximity and distance has been highlighted by many in CDA (see particularly Chilton, 2003, 2004) as being a very effective method by which to orient an audience towards a perspective beneficial to one’s own rhetorical intentions, legitimation being a core one. The power of this strategy and the importance of understanding its counterparts in the visual and auditory modes are such that I believe it ought to be a category unto itself.
Emotional coercion. The word ‘coercive’ is clearly a loaded term, yet is appropriate here as what I mean to highlight in this category is the use made of emotive triggers, which ever since Aristotle have been counterpoised to non-coercive persuasion by reason.
These nine strategies can be seen as forming a pragmatic level within a larger theory of analysing legitimation in multimodal texts. I will now outline my own skeleton framework.
Theoretical framework
There are six layers to the framework which are arranged, top to bottom, in an order which reflects a move from application to theory, from the practical and pragmatic to the explanatory and underlying. These layers are
Multimodal resources;
Pragma-strategic level;
Justificatory schema (Van Leeuwen, 2007a);
Legitimation as a process;
Legitimation as a quality;
Discourse-historical moral evaluation.
Each level can function on its own to tell us something about the legitimation involved. Taking them together gives us a way of looking at legitimation from multiple angles, allowing a greater depth and complexity in our understanding of it. I shall explain the four layers I have yet to discuss (the ‘Pragma-strategic level’ and Van Leeuwen’s ‘Justificatory schema’ have been discussed above) and then operationalise the framework (Figure 1) in my analysis of the SNP ad, Two Futures.
Framework for legitimation by multimodal means.
Multimodal resources
In the level I have called ‘Multimodal resources’, the following questions are prompted regarding the text to be analysed:
Which modes are used and what affordances do they have?
What contextual demands are involved in reducing the potential affordances? (This could reflect the technological limits, legal stipulations of what must or must not be included, financial constraints on production costs, etc.)
What is the cultural context and what does it mean for the selection and realisation of the potential affordances? There is no simple answer to this question, but the consideration of what cultural expectations are brought to bear on the creation and reception of a text is essential.
Is there any evidence of modal hierarchy, in terms of information conveyance, emotional effect or some more general ‘impact’? For example, an ad which gives a great deal of information with a spoken voice-over together with startling images may be seen to have three modal hierarchies simultaneously, one for the transferral of information, another for emotional impact and an overarching one which may place the visual mode above the spoken.
What are the temporal features of the text? This not only concerns duration but also potential ‘shelf-life’, year/era of production and the role of time within the text (e.g. references, evocations, projections, implications). Examining such profiles should help our understanding of how time is involved with (de)legitimation.
Legitimation as a process
This level looks at what definition of ‘legitimate’ pertains in the text and to what extent (if at all) it is challenged. Markers of such challenge could be whether or not assumptions are questioned, conventions challenged or flouted and precedent forms or institutions rejected. At the soft end of the continuum, the meaning of legitimacy is accepted, and there is an attempt to present something as legitimate on the pre-existing understanding of what that means. At the hard end, there is a rejection of the meaning of ‘legitimate’ and a demand for some degree of redefinition which would, through its changes, legitimate what is being presented.
Legitimation as a quality
This level looks at the tension which inevitably arises through the passing of time once something takes on the status of being legitimate. Habermas talks of ‘unavoidable idealizations’ which form ‘the counterfactual basis of an actual process of mutual understanding which can transcend itself, turning itself critically on its own results’ (Outhwaite, 1994: 40, citing Habermas, 1992).The legitimate body may remain the same, but the definition of what is legitimate changes. The inertia of institutions and the time delay between the events which grant legitimacy (such as elections) and the altering of the qualities of those institutions or of society’s definition of legitimacy lead to the Habermasian situation of a constant gap existing between the concept of legitimacy and any particular material holder of it. For Habermas, elections function ‘as the most important sluices for the discursive rationalization of the decisions of a government and administration bound by law and statute’ (Outhwaite, 1994: 146, citing Habermas, 1992). Clearly, the political advertising of a challenger will attempt to exploit this gap, and the advertising of an incumbent, to deny it.
Discourse-historical moral evaluation
As discussed above, Van Leeuwen identified the need for a deeper analysis in order to understand the basis of the moral values which underpin legitimation. He identified the possible role of discourse-historical analysis in reaching such understanding. This level, therefore, is one in which the assumptions made in the text about what is morally good are explored, and the basis for these assumptions is explicated. What is taken as a basic assumption is often what is taken as ‘natural’. What is natural is usually taken as equivalent to ‘good’. Similarly, what is seen as ‘rational’ and what is ‘commonsense’ are also usually taken as good. This level, which I have labelled ‘Discourse-historical moral evaluation’, taps into a vast resource of cultural assumptions which we draw upon in order to legitimate our very process of legitimation. Without making the daunting attempt to sort through what this level entails, our understanding of legitimation will always be left wanting.
Using the framework
The six levels of the framework outlined above can stand alone: they each direct focus onto a different facet of legitimation. For any large comparative study, looking at any one aspect of legitimation would throw light upon the similarities and differences between the texts in the corpus. This could be of particular value in a comparative cultural study or a diachronic study of legitimation across centuries. For a single text, however, addressing all six levels promises to give rigour, depth and nuance to a study of the legitimation involved. This is what is attempted in the analysis below.
For an even deeper and more revealing analysis, one would want to look at the interplay among these levels of analysis. In conducting such research, the analyst might seek to identify patterns of use, for example, by asking whether certain multimodal resources are employed more frequently in texts aiming to challenge the very definition of legitimation. This would focus upon the interplay between ‘Multimodal Resources’ and ‘Legitimation as Process’. Another question could be whether there is a prevalence of legitimation-by-rationalisation on the part of institutions which are officially ‘legitimate’ but not morally or publicly considered to be so, which might be answered by looking at the relationship between ‘Justificatory Schema’ and ‘Legitimation as a Quality’. Such a full analysis is, however, well beyond the scope of this article. The discussion below, necessarily restricted in size, is intended to demonstrate the potential for a directed and multifaceted analysis of multimodal legitimation, without in any way exhausting the considerations of any one of the levels of analysis.
Analysis
Multimodal resources
Modes and affordances
In Two Futures, we have the composite mode of film, made up in this case of moving image, and sound. The moving image utilises the resources offered by colour; text and movement between frames, as well as containing within it still images and monochrome – which are not simply negations of moving film and colour, but have their own cultural semiotic identities; references to architecture (a 10 Downing Street exterior and a Cabinet meeting room interior); the semiotics of dress (the suited politicians, uniformed children and pyjama-wearing Kirsty); and body language (playful children, protesting demonstrators, shy teens). The resource of sound can be usefully broken into three distinct categories: voice, music and atmospheric sound. Each of these can be further sub-divided, but in an analysis such as this one, such a level of detail is impossible.
Contextual demands
There are many contextual demands involved in this ad – technological, legal and practical – and we do not have access to much of the information that would enable an enumeration of them. We can assume, for example, that there was a financial limit placed upon the production team; we know there was a time constraint (an ad had to be created in time to be aired well before the referendum), but we do not know what it was or how, in terms of production decisions made, it impacted upon the final production. We could imagine that there were technological constraints specified in the brief given to the production company (e.g. to make a colour film, with sound, but not requiring high definition (HD) or three-dimensional (3D) technologies). Perhaps some of the contextual demands were such that the SNP team and the production team (Greenroom Films) worked collaboratively to meet them – taking decisions together on how long the ad would run, for example.
Cultural context
The cultural context here is both known and unknown: in that this is a political ad, there are cultural expectations; in that this is an ad for a referendum on independence in a modern Western state, there are few precedents and therefore fewer cultural expectations. When invoking any particular ‘culture’, a certain scale has to be selected and others de-selected: thus, the public’s expectations for political ads in the United Kingdom are different from those in other European countries and other predominantly English-speaking countries. As those who were entitled to vote in the referendum on Scottish independence had to be Scottish residents and European Union (EU) or Commonwealth citizens, at what cultural specificity would the ad be directed?
Looking at one facet of culture, spoken language, having a narrator with a Scottish accent indexes ‘Scottish culture’. Yet, by using a soft rather than a broad accent, the indexing is kept at this national level: the girl’s accent is not markedly from a specific Scottish region, and a further differentiation of cultures is therefore inhibited. Bakhtin’s notion of heteroglossia is relevant here. The accent accorded the ‘highest status’ in Scotland is, arguably, not a Scottish one. Instead, it might (still) be an English ‘BBC accent’ (although there has been much widening of the accents deemed acceptable by the BBC, in part due to the very devolution Scotland is now being asked to stay with or reject in favour of complete independence). The Scottish accents spoken by the narrator of the ad, and even more so by Alex Salmond, are not neutral enough for the cultural stance taken to be seen as one eschewing a Scottish identity – quite the contrary. However, both accents we hear index ‘educated Scots’, and when paired with ‘proper diction’, this anchors the scale of cultural context.
Culture, however, is multilayered, and, while this linguistic identification is made, there are also cultural touchstones we could call ‘Western’ which are absolutely assumed: gender equality, a right to political dissent, a secular, multicultural society as the desired norm and so on. In fact, to comprehend the ad and the message it conveys, considerable knowledge of the Scottish cultural context is necessary.
Modal hierarchy
The modal hierarchy in this ad is split: the words spoken are salient in terms of information-giving and rational argument; the music is salient in terms of evoking the ‘appropriate’ mood response. The auditory dimension of the spoken text bridges these two spheres – that of rationality and that of evocation. The visual mode too can be seen as a bridging mode, secondary to the text spoken in terms of providing information and secondary to the music in terms of evocation. The reasons why these particular modes are chosen to function as they do in this multimodal message are worth exploring. In brief, modes addressed to our rational mind are seen as legitimate; those aimed at eliciting an irrational/emotional response are viewed as illegitimate. This can be traced right back to the Greeks, with Aristotle’s (2007) ‘On Rhetoric’ dissecting the various arguments and enumerating the various methods – legitimate and illegitimate – of persuasion.
Nationalism, as a particular concept of identity, is involved not only with rational arguments but also with emotions. These emotions may result from hearing rational arguments, or they may be based on extremely subjective, irrational and/or personal experiences; most people’s response to nationalism is likely to be some mix of these two extreme positions. The political party behind this ad is the SNP: its raison d’être is to act in the interest of Scottish nationalism. The two main political parties – Labour and Conservative – are pro-Union – a position which can be presented as anti-nationalist or one sporting a British nationalism. However, repeatedly through history, including within the last century, nationalism has been seen to be a dangerous thing – changing peaceable neighbours into sworn enemies, breaking up stable political units, being a reason for war, hatred and killing. The strength of emotions wound up in nationalism is double-sided, creating fraternity in Anderson’s (2006) ‘imagined communities’, as well as being the inspiration for much positive cultural production, but also inciting hatred of, and jealousy towards, the Other, outside the national boundaries.
If we look to Scotland and the United Kingdom, we can see, in their shared history, the gamut of such consequences: battles have been fought and resentments created against the English. Countering this, more recently, wars have been fought and an Empire won and lost together. In the late 18th and 19th centuries, the cultural production of Scottish-inspired art spilled over its borders, giving Scotland Romantic resonances for some (Scottish and non-Scottish alike). In more modern times, this Scottish Romanticism, seen by many as having mutated into an inauthentic and superficial ‘shortbread’ nationalism, has been challenged and a reassessment of Scotland’s ‘role in the world’ undertaken. In the immediate past, Scotland has won devolved power (the Scotland Act of 1998) from Westminster (the seat of the UK government). Scottish nationalism is, as are all nationalisms, bound up with pride and resentments, not the emotions most amenable to rational argument. And it is this double-edged emotive quality to nationalism which leads, or perhaps requires, the SNP to communicate using uncoupled legitimatory tactics.
The irrational element to nationalism is only deemed problematic when it is seen to have negative consequences: thus, although mocked by some, a nationalistic feeling which wells up at the sound of a particular tune or at the sight of an evocative landscape is seen as, at worst, sentimental and ‘soft’ (it is not inconsequential that such adjectives are also ones traditionally used to describe the feminine sphere). At best, the evocation of positive national pride is seen as ‘natural’ and, ironically, the sign of a man in touch with his feelings. Seeing nationalist sentiment as indulgence only works, however, when the effects of it upon us are benign. When a national(istic) anthem incites hatred against another people, the irrational element involved can be terrifying.
A further point must be made, however, regarding the power of colour and music to evoke. They serve the dual purpose of working as representations and signs and as direct objects of sense. It is in their signifying role that they can be deployed in political communication. This argument leads us to reject the simplistic argument that certain modes are inherently irrational for, if we learn to react as we do to rousing music through an early initiation into its ‘language’ (or more precisely, semiotic system), we engage as much rationality as (1) the action ‘learning’ commits us to and (2) the subject of our learning – these significations and representations – implies. Thus, lying behind the irrational response is a store of rationality and systematicity. This does not mean, however, that at the time of hearing, we are necessarily able to be entirely rational in our response. Bourdieu (1990) borrows the term ‘numb imperatives’ from Proust to explain how our responses (to languages of all types in which we are culturally instilled), though learnt, become embodied, automatic and therefore extremely difficult to assess or alter. We can and do alter them, and we do so through a re-enculturation. However, as adults, we have to act upon our habitus from within it – a difficult task. The principal resource we have for this undertaking is rational argument, and perhaps this is the main reason why modes less easy to engage with in this manner remain suspect.
Temporal features
Two Futures is 3 minutes, 40 seconds long and was published on 22 March 2013. It is aimed specifically at voters taking part in the Scottish referendum on independence which took place on 18 September 2014. It was aired prior to another election (the European elections which occurred on 22–25 May 2014), and it can probably claim to have had a collateral impact upon voting outcome in that election too (the SNP was on the ballot in Scotland), but its clear primary focus was upon the referendum.
The internal temporal features of the ad are intriguing. First, as many comments on the ad have pointed out, the gestation period of a human embryo from conception to birth is somewhat shorter than the time between the ad being aired and the referendum! Perhaps this is a bit of creative licence: the idea of a child being born on ‘the very same day’ as an important historical event is an attractive one with a great deal of metaphorical currency. Salman Rushdie’s classic novel, Midnight’s Children, has this as its very premise: it is the story of a group of children born at the stroke of midnight on the day of Indian independence, their lives reflected in, influenced by and influencing their nascent state. By putting Kirsty’s birth on the day of the referendum, there is a politically expedient conflation in which her birth signals not a referendum which would, if resulting in a ‘Yes’ vote, and following due process, result in Scottish independence, but rather the immediate start of the ‘brighter’ of the two futures suggested.
Also in the ad, we have a projection into the future – shown most clearly by the progressing girlhood of Kirsty and ending with her as a mid-teenager (i.e. 15 or 16 years hence). It is from this temporal position and perspective that Kirsty, as narrator, speaks to us. And yet, in a temporal sleight of hand, after she has spoken to us, Alex Salmond addresses us. This, by linear proximity, projects him into the future too (although he is speaking as a politician in the present), and clearly, the idea of their politician (and the Scottish First Minister) being a reliable feature over a transitional period is one the SNP would be keen to convey.
The temporal features of the soundtrack, moving from Scottish folk to folk-inspired Scottish rock, allows the ad to evoke the Romantic Scottish past and the proposed modern Scottish state as a continual, linear progression. The lyrics in the second, modern part also add to the temporal complexity within the ad, the refrain being ‘If there’s one great thing to happen in my life’. This is the narrative voice of someone attempting to gain an overview of their life and seeking out a key moment of greatness, the idea clearly being that to contribute (by voting ‘Yes’) to there becoming an independent Scotland, each person would be playing a small part in a historically significant event. Of course, the same applies for voting to remain within the Union, but, although historically significant, the continuation of the status quo is not something many would identify as a ‘great thing’ happening in their life so much, perhaps, as stopping a bad thing.
Pragma-strategic level
General strategy
Overall, this is a positive ad, following Kirsty’s timely birth, happy childhood and optimistic young adulthood. The undesirable alternative is interspersed throughout Kirsty’s progression, but does not inhibit it or cancel it out. The parenthetical use of black-and-white film and piano-based soundtrack marks out the negative parts, allowing them to be easily identified – an identification further aided by rhythmical and stylistic regularity. This allows them to be held apart from the positive, ‘real’ story.
Macro-speech act
The principal speech act here is Kirsty’s projected childhood biography – a mundane and happy one. The mundanity is a clever way of presenting her experience as ‘normal’, whereas I think it most likely that her childhood is on the affluent end of normal, as suggested by the interior furnishings and size of her home, and the neighbourhood in which she is pictured walking home from primary school. As noted, interspersed into this narrative are several negative messages. Their form varies from ‘documentary’-style reportage, exposing the ‘truth’ about the state of the United Kingdom in regard to Europe, to a more visually based scare-mongering. The black-and-white film of a young Kirsty watching the weapons of mass destruction in the sky above is reminiscent of the infamous ‘Daisy’ ad from the 1964 US presidential election. Almost as an appendage to the main thrust of the ad is Alex Salmond’s voice-over, which is in the more conventional form of a party-political broadcast. This part, framed as an authoritative overview, is sandwiched by Kirsty’s narrative, which is revived and recapped at the end of the ad.
Topic selection
This ad draws our attention, through the spoken narrative, to several subjects – none of which are particularly surprising (for discussion of our expectations when it comes to political ads, see further Mackay, 2014). What is perhaps more interesting and revealing are the topics not mentioned. There is no mention of the previous Scottish 1979 referendum on devolution, the much-maligned poll tax (introduced into Scotland by the Conservatives under Thatcher, a year earlier than anywhere else), the long-term lack of support for the Conservative Party in Scotland, the non-Scottish parts of the Union, the Scandinavian model (which the SNP would like an independent Scotland to emulate) or the Romantic Scottish past. However, the visual and musical modes can work suggestively. The veteran political ad man, Tony Schwartz (1974), stated that ‘the best political commercials are similar to Rorschach patterns. They do not tell the viewer anything. They surface his feelings and provide a context for him to express those feelings’ (p. 93). In an ad aimed at persuading the Scottish population to vote for independence, it could be hoped that the representation of the besuited Tory Cabinet in meeting would not only illustrate the point being made but also provoke or tap into an anti-elite sentiment. Similarly, the Scottish folk music could index the Romantic ideal of Scotland – something chiming with Kirsty’s question of whether ‘the land of my birth’ will be ‘a true nation that stands proudly alongside all other nations’ (1.04–1.09). The resentment still felt around the poll tax could be aroused by the sights of the demonstrations against university fees, as well as the emotive description of Scotland being used as ‘a dumping ground’ (1.20–1.23). And possibly, the wide, cloudy, coastal panorama over which Kirsty and (presumably) her boyfriend gaze from their bench is enough – together with Salmond’s ‘fairer, greener, more prosperous country’ (2.40–2.43), and Kirsty’s riding of a bicycle–to bring to mind other northern nations.
Supporting internal coherence
In this ad, there is a very clear multimodal concordance between the positive elements on one hand and the negative elements on the other. For the ‘wrong’ choice of future, we have a sad piano soundtrack, black-and-white film and ‘bad news’ about the Union and Scotland’s place within it. Interestingly, the music is not dissonant: perhaps that have been considered just too heavy-handed and therefore in danger of being a send-up of itself. The black-and-white film is itself in a frame and therefore held at a constant remove from Kirsty’s ‘reality’. For the ‘right’ choice of future, we have happy children (as opposed to an anxious one), bright colour (but not so bright, again, that the film could be accused of being hyper-bright) and folk music turning into upbeat folk-rock. This choice of soundtrack is noteworthy also for being the product of a relatively well-known Scottish band).
Semiotic lexicon
This category consists of elements which form the tip of the iceberg – which the final level of analysis, Discourse-Historical Moral Evaluation, attempts to explain more fully by exploring the submerged part of the iceberg. For the positive self-presentation, we have the use of words such as ‘true’, ‘green’, ‘potential’, ‘fairer’; images – as previously mentioned – of laughing, healthy children, celebrations, educational successes and domestic happiness; and traditional and upbeat folk music. The category of positive self-presentation is slightly complicated in that the SNP is presenting an ad in which their projection of an independent Scotland – as opposed to their own particular political party – is the primary focus for legitimation. For negative other-presentation, we have the use of words such as ‘poorest’, ‘unequal’, ‘dumping ground’ and ‘squandered’; images of a person in poverty, a bomb in the sky, civil unrest and a group of predominantly white male politicians from elite English backgrounds who are shown replicating their chummy, ‘privileged’ boys’ club; and sad, slow, halting, piano music.
In this ad, there is a notable absence of kilts, bagpipes, whisky and the Scottish flag. These are signs which index ‘Scottishness’, but they are viewed rather ambivalently because the Scottishness they index is a stereotype. However, we hear folk music and Scottish accents. The ‘presentation’ of the political actors involved (in the ad) is interesting. Alex Salmond’s voice is heard, but never identified as being his. His picture is not shown, and his name is never given. This could be for many reasons: his image may not be wooing the focus groups; his being shown might contribute to the widespread conflation that a ‘Yes’ vote equals a vote for the SNP, and Alex Salmond in particular. This may not be desirable, given that the Labour Party continues to command strong loyalties in Scotland, or the ad may be attempting to portray Westminster as the present messy, politically dubious centre and Scotland as ‘clean’ of the compromises for which previous governments are being condemned. By not showing any politician in the Scottish, human-interest part of the ad, the apparent contrast is made clear. The presentation of the present Prime Minister, David Cameron, and the last but one, Tony Blair, without any names being given, is an attempt to drive home a negative message, while not being accused of running ‘a negative ad’. The inclusion of Cameron’s Cabinet members could index for many the epitome of their ‘out-of-touch’ ‘privilege’, by calling to mind the Bullingdon Club, a conservative, Oxford-based club to which many of them belonged. The value of implicit semiotic lexicon is that something visual or auditory does not convey its message ‘in so many words’. That is, implicit connections can be denied.
Foregrounding/backgrounding
This ad can be seen as arguing for a nation, but the other side to this is that doing so puts a present political entity under attack. The position of the rump United Kingdom sans Scotland is entirely absent, as is any discussion of the potential risks involved or of the ugly side of nationalism. Unspecific positive potentials are foregrounded, and details that would back up the rather banal positive statements, or analyse the advantages Scotland would lose in becoming independent, or has ever gained in being part of the Union, remain in the background. If we look at the negative other-presentation, we can identify what is backgrounded in the presentation of Scotland. As mentioned, Kirsty’s life is more aspirationally normal than representative; the more mixed aspects of life in Scotland are missing. Also absent is any representation of Scotland’s role in the armed forces, ‘illegal wars’ or the nuclear warheads which are based in Scotland (and unarguably provide local employment). Finally, it is worth mentioning that the British royal family is neither mentioned nor shown, being as it commands a great deal of loyalty in Scotland yet is most commonly paired with pan-UK patriotism.
Rhetorical figures
Most noticeable in the ad is the use of multimodal, rhetorical parallelism. There are four repetitions of the following structure: Kirsty asks the rhetorical question ‘Will it be …? Or will it be …?’ and these two halves, approximately equal in duration (most are 11 seconds, the shortest being 8 and the longest 14), are accompanied by the shift from colour to black-and-white film and from folk music to piano solo. This rhetorical structure reinforces there being two futures. This argumentative ploy – of suggesting that these are indeed the only two options which are possible – is taken up again by Salmond who declares, ‘next year, every single one of us will be asked to make a choice between two futures’ (2.10–2.15). This statement plays over the film of Kirsty’s bike ride to the coast and, as Salmond asks his question, she is approaching a fork in the cycle path; as soon as he has finished his statement, Kirsty proceeds, without faltering, along the lower of the two. Thus, on her way to meet her date (her tentative start on the way to adulthood), she chooses her route unfalteringly. The parallel is clear: Scotland is also preparing for independence, and independence is a ‘natural’ part of ‘growing up’, and being natural is good. There are many other rhetorical devices used: the metaphor of colourlessness standing for negativity, a bike standing for an environmentally progressive attitude, a baby standing for hope and potential and a family standing for unity.
Deixis
The use of deixis in the ad works, together with the complex temporal positioning, to situate the speakers in relation to the audience. 3 Kirsty is addressing us, her audience, which we know from the context is an audience resident in Scotland. Kirsty talks in the first person singular ‘I’ and ‘my’ and then shifts to speak in the first person plural, ‘our’ and ‘we’. This move of deictic inclusion is simple and effective in ‘drawing us in’ to her narrative, her hopes and fears. Salmond continues in the same vein, using ‘us’, ‘here’, ‘we’ and ‘our’. It is only in the last part of the ad, when Kirsty addresses us more directly by requesting us to vote ‘Yes’, that she uses the second person ‘yourself’ and ‘your’. This final shift targets the individuals who make up the voting audience, make up the ‘we’ Kirsty and Salmond have been constructing through discourse.
Emotional coercion
Children, and in particular babies and little girls, are emotive signifiers: their appearance seems to tap into our own habitus in which children need nurturing and protection. The passing of a childhood is often a sentimental narrative (and in this ad it most certainly is), an easy one for drawing our sympathies. Each of us, as members of the audience, are placed, by Kirsty herself, in a position of responsibility for her and all our children. There are not a great many ways more coercive than the foisting of responsibility for children and their future onto an audience. The music too is coercive, although the lack of dissonance in the piano music is a sign of restraint. The images of Kirsty – as a toddler and then as a girl – in front of the black-and-white film screens of what is presented as the dystopian present are also emotionally coercive, painting (in black-and-white, literally and metaphorically) the ‘baddies’ as posing a threat to the exposed child. Finally, the final folk-rock soundtrack is upbeat and crescendos in an electric-guitar finale in a way that, whether or not we like the music, signifies positivity and dynamism.
Justificatory schema
Following Van Leeuwen, we can see that the ad attempts to legitimate the ‘Yes’ campaign in all four ways mentioned. Legitimation by authority is achieved by Salmond’s input: as the First Minister of Scotland, and the leader of the SNP, his voiced opinion carries quite a bit of weight, although political authority has, inherent in it, a degree of mistrust, different from, say, the view of a scientist or a judge. Kirsty’s voice commands a strange type of authority – the authority of youthful innocence. A child’s voice carries with it the authority of the boy who revealed the Emperor’s nakedness. The authority of Westminster is acknowledged, but with attempts to trump it with Salmond’s home-based authority, denying its efficacy (by showing strikes) and intimating higher authorities (which would find wars illegal). Authority by custom is not discussed in the text, but the use of traditional music legitimates in this way. Authority by commendation is only performed if we see Kirsty’s narrative as legitimating Salmond’s, and vice versa.
The moral legitimation in this ad is probably the most important, although the morality or otherwise of independence is left implicit. It is indexed by words and visuals (see the Discourse-Historical Moral evaluation section below) such as ‘true nation’ and ‘fairer’, where the juxtaposition of ‘ability’ and ‘privilege’ makes a moral argument and where pictures of happy children contrast with the black-and-white pictures of Blair, Bush and bombs in the sky.
Legitimation by rationalisation plays an important role not only to build legitimacy but also to provide a counter-balance (or some might say ‘cover’) to the emotive appeals. It is argued that Scotland would be a ‘more prosperous’ nation, more influential in the world and ‘greener’, which is both a moral and a rationalising term. The Kirsty of the ‘happy’ future showcases, visually, the future prosperity, through her affluent childhood. Furthermore, Salmond stresses that ‘We’ve got what it takes’ (2.40), focusing the argument on the pragmatics of tools and resources, which, again, points to economic rationalisation.
The final category Van Leeuwen identifies is mythopoesis: the legitimating power of the narrative. In it, he distinguishes between the moral tale, which is to be emulated, and the cautionary tale, which is not. In a sense, although Kirsty’s main story is a moral one, the alternative future projection (in black-and-white) is a cautionary one. The mundanity of Kirsty’s pleasant childhood is carefully honed so as not to appear either banal or particularly unusual: she is the veritable ‘girl next door’, in an aspiring sort of way. Her narrative, then, by being ‘normal’, is also an example of theoretical rationalisation – legitimacy is gained through Kirsty’s unimpeded, natural development, realising her ‘full potential’ in Scotland in a way she could not do if Scotland remained part of the United Kingdom.
Legitimation as a process
A referendum is a politically accepted – legitimate – process by which a population gets to decide on a matter deemed of great, general importance. A referendum on independence falls into this category, yet offers the choice to reject the legitimacy of the status quo. And, unsurprisingly for an SNP ad, it is this latter point which is emphasised. There are repeated uses of comparatives to describe the projected independent Scotland as compared with Scotland as it is in the Union. In fact, Salmond says (2.41–2.44), ‘We’ve got what it takes to build a fairer, greener, more prosperous country’, echoing Kirsty’s ‘fairer, more prosperous’ (0.23), and contrasting with her description of the present state of affairs in which Scotland (or the United Kingdom – it is unclear) is ‘ruled by Westminster, a country that is still the fourth most unequal in the developed world, where the gap between rich and poor gets wider and wider’ (0.30–0.40). This is an attempt to legitimate the action of choosing independence over staying with the Union. The Union is, as a direct inverse, delegitimated. A system of government, the argument goes, in which the reflection of fairness is getting worse is not a legitimate one – at least, not as legitimate as an independent Scotland would be.
This point is also contextually relevant: Scotland has a stronger tradition (or at least self-image) of being more socialist-leaning, and it also has its own legal system which predates Union and has remained a sign of difference of which many Scots are proud. Therefore, the concentration on societal fairness serves to legitimate a ‘stifled’ (2.29) Scotland, unable – like Kirsty, if the ‘No’ vote wins – to reach its ‘full potential’ (0.25–0.26).
The other ‘deep’ act of legitimation is the one which rejects the present ‘legitimate’ system at Westminster on the grounds that such a system does not allow Scotland to be a ‘true nation’ (1.05), whereas a truly legitimate system by definition would enable this. Scotland, in the Union, is ‘a country with no place in the world’ (1.14–1.15), indentured to ‘Westminster’, ‘led by others’ against its will ‘into illegal wars’ (1.18–1.19) and ‘used as a dumping ground’ (1.20–1.21). This description of the ‘same old same old’ (1.38) delegitimates Westminster, not only for failing to live up to its own definition of what legitimacy means but because the system itself is a flawed one.
Legitimation as a quality
This category focuses on two disjunctions: that between the ideal notion and the real manifestation of legitimacy, and that between the body initially granted legitimacy and that same body’s inevitable evolution. The SNP, in Two Futures, may be seen as attempting to do the following:
Make it clear that the problem with the Union is largely systematic – bound up in the institutions themselves, not only those presently inhabiting them. This is a disjunction between the ideal form and the realised form. To this end, both Tony Blair (an ex-Labour Prime Minister) and David Cameron (the present Conservative Prime Minister) are shown in Westminster.
Point out the continual failures of successive Westminster governments to stand up to their electorate’s expectations of legitimate governance. This is the disjunction between any particular government when they are first elected, as they appear ‘on paper’ or in the party manifesto, and the same government in power, making the compromises, hard decision, mistakes and misjudgements that any group of politicians make. Therefore, we have governments which are ‘out of touch’ (1.42), by whom ‘our money’ is ‘squandered’ (1.40).
The multimodality of the ad allows both levels of this illegitimacy, ideal–form and elected–enacted, to be suggested simultaneously. The narrative uses the plural ‘governments’ to delegitimise the system, while the visuals show Cameron, the present Conservative Prime Minister, delegitimating the present government. Being ‘out of touch’ and ‘squandering’, however, are arguably perennial complaints of any populace against their government. More serious charges are levelled against successive governments. Labour, under Blair (shown but not mentioned by name), is accused of leading Scotland into ‘illegal wars’ (1.18–1.19). This is a serious attack and one that has resonance in Scotland, where the public demonstrations against the war in Iraq were large. The SNP claims the moral high-ground here, as they were opposed to the war. Their claim that the war was an illegal one is globally disputed.
By making this dual-level attack, the SNP might hope to ensure that a ‘Yes’ vote in the referendum is understood not to be merely a ‘protest’ vote which might strike many people as too trivial to sway a referendum, but something far more significant. Rather, dislike of the present UK government is presented as symptomatic of the real, cultural, divide the SNP argues exists between Scotland and Westminster.
Discourse-historical moral evaluation
Understanding Two Futures, as with all texts, relies on a degree of shared contextual knowledge. This contextual knowledge, as well as ensuring that we understand what is being talked about (e.g. images of Westminster, Tony Blair, strikes, the identification of Scottish folk music, the sound of Alex Salmond’s voice), also informs our understanding of the value judgements which are culturally accorded to signs. The degree to which such value judgements can be assumed, rather than argued for in the text itself, stands in direct correlation with the audience’s shared habitus: the closer people’s mental and physical cultures are aligned, the more a text can take for granted as being understood as a given or as ‘commonsense’. If we look at the ad, we can see that the following assumptions are made about positive and negative values. (The arrows mark the further implications of value-laden terms.)
This is in no way a comprehensive table: the submerged part of the iceberg is massive. It is meant simply to show the extent to which a text such as this is built upon moral assumptions.
First, Kirsty’s role in the ad highlights the Western bias which is prevalent throughout. As a female, she is given a voice, and that voice is one which is intended to be listened to. Although young, she is politically aware. Female political emancipation has not always been, and is still not universally thought to be, a good thing. This means that the positive value accorded to it is both culturally and temporally sensitive, and, by using it in the ad as a value which the audience is to accept as commonsense, the SNP is legitimating its own position in regard to gender equality, and, by extension, to general emancipatory aims. The traditional role of the female intersects with the role of the child: the child is someone who needs protection, being unable to defend itself (physically or rationally); who has an innocence that is inherently valuable; and has the ability to utter profound truths. This ad exploits these deep-seated beliefs about the value of children, while not aligning them with women. However, the fact that Kirsty is both a child and a female, and is given the principal and agentive role in the ad, not only signifies that female equality is a ‘given’ for the SNP but may also tap into residual notions that female children in particular are vulnerable and need protection from the political ‘boys’ club’ mentality. This example demonstrates the complex and contradictory nature of values, established as they are over different historical ages, interpreted by different cultures in different ways and moderated by individuals to accommodate our own lives and inconsistencies.
Schwartz (1974) pointed out that in the interwar years in the United States, a picture of a factory with smoking chimneys meant prosperity, but by the 1970s it signified pollution. He explains: A photograph, film, tape, or book has no meaning outside the possible contexts in which a person might experience it, or outside the body of stored experiences a person will bring to the situation in making sense of what he sees or hears. (Schwartz, 1974: 26)
This is precisely the case with Kirsty’s bicycle: previously a symbol of modest means and a lack of sophistication, the bike now signifies the sort of environmental awareness and responsibility associated with the wealthy European countries which Salmond would like Scotland to emulate.
The importance of ‘being green’ is, itself, a relatively recent political concern, and environmentalism (for which being ‘green’ is a metaphorically rich synonym) has, itself, altered. Nature has changed its status: no longer a force to subdue and use or a resource to protect for aesthetic reasons, but now Nature (or the newer term, the Environment) needs protection from the precarious position into which we have forced it. It has become a matter of urgency: we must be green or perish, and be green or lose out on the business frontier of responsible and sustainable development (see further Hansen and Machin, 2008). In Two Futures, Salmond’s final ‘We’ve got what it takes to build a fairer, greener, more prosperous country’ (2.40–2.43) places the importance of environmentalism very high – at least, very high on the list of concerns he believes will legitimate him and his vision of an independent Scotland.
Finally, it is worth exploring the positive value accorded to ‘true nation’. It is assumed that we all know what a nation consists of, that there are ‘true’ ones (hence also ‘false’ ones), that it is obvious why Kirsty would want Scotland to be one and that independence is the (only?) way that could be achieved. The concept of the nation, discussed earlier with reference to Anderson’s proposed ‘imagined community’, is not, in fact, a simple one. Joseph (2004), summarising Renan, writes that the nation ‘exists in the minds – the memories and the will – of the people who make it up’ (p. 112); it is, according to Renan, ‘a soul, a spiritual principle’ (Joseph, 2004). And for those who are believers, their spiritual principles are not only valued positively but are also fundamental to a sense of identity. An ad, therefore, is not, as Schwartz points out, ‘likely to change strongly held attitudes’, but instead works on ‘surfacing’ deeply held beliefs and channelling to its advantage the strong feelings that such deeply held beliefs evoke. Two Futures, through its use of folk music and its highlighting of Scottish difference (in accent, values and political context), foregrounds the pre- or prior existence of Scotland as a nation. This move legitimates Scotland as an authentic nation-in-waiting whose status is something like true-at-heart.
Yet nationalism, as already mentioned, has an ambivalent value, and this must be mitigated by the ad if it is to work. Two Futures does this by keeping in the background all the choices the referendum implies. Schwartz (1974) notes that we ‘should not overlook the fact that a voter has four ways to vote: for or against either two candidates’ (p. 92). If we replace ‘candidates’ for ‘options’, we can see the following four options:
Vote for Scottish independence;
Vote against Scottish independence;
Vote for remaining part of the Union;
Vote against remaining part of the Union.
Each of these options entails a ‘surfacing’ of different emotions, and the ad is careful to steer away from mentioning ‘England’ or ‘the English’ 4 as this would bring to mind the ‘bad’ face of nationalism as divisive and potentially violent and call attention to anti-English sentiment and accusations of disloyalty and anger towards ‘turncoats’. Such concerns are real.
Conclusion
In this article, I have outlined a proposed framework for analysing legitimation and have applied it to a multimodal text for which legitimation is central. The framework I propose consists of six levels, each of which focuses on a particular aspect of legitimation as it is achieved in multimodal texts. The first level analyses the multimodal resources used by – and available to – the text producers and delves into what choices have been made and why, taking into account affordances, contextual demands, cultural context and temporal features. The second level, building upon work by van Dijk, looks at the pragmatic and strategic choices made within the text which add to the legitimation and delegitimation of actors. The third level, proposed by Van Leeuwen, details a justificatory schema by which we can understand different types of legitimation, and how they are constructed argumentationally. The fourth level proposed is looking at legitimation as a process. This level looks at whether any one prevailing culturally specific concept of legitimation is accepted within the text (and the legitimation attempt is for inclusion into it) or whether the text demands a redefinition of what it is to be legitimate. The fifth level draws out the Habermasian distinction between legitimation as an ideal quality and any particular political entity which has been accorded legitimacy (or has accorded it to itself). The sixth, and final, level is that of discourse-historical moral evaluation, a level intended to explore the moral assumptions which underlie and underpin the legitimating features of the text. This level will go some way to discovering what a position of legitimacy is based upon, what values are taken for granted and thus can build a legitimating argument.
In the analysis, I hope to have demonstrated how the framework can be used and, at the same time, provided an insight into a unique legitimating event: the Scottish independence referendum.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank John E Joseph for much discussion and editorial advice – again. I would also like to express my gratitude to Günther Kress for his insistence that I craft a framework for legitimation by multimodal means. And finally, I would like to thank my reviewer for their insightful comments.
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial or not-for-profit sectors.