Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
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Language & Communication
journal homepage: www.elsevier.com/locate/langcom
The clichéd juxtapositions and pleasing patterns of political advertising ⇑ Rowan R. Mackay
Linguistics & English Language, The University of Edinburgh, Dugald Stewart Building, 3 Charles Street, Edinburgh EH8 9AD, UK article info abstract
Article history: This paper addresses the following problem: advertising generally – and recent U.S. political Available online 6 March 2014 campaign ads specifically – use juxtaposition that is simultaneously effective and clichéd. We can identify the stereotypes employed, the structural components put together in a Keywords: formulaic manner, and the stock images, key changes, and colour coordination which form Political advertising such components. We are so aware of this make-up that a successful spoof ad makes its point Cliché simply through the use of an exaggerated application of just such a formula. Our casual Juxtaposition understanding of cliché, therefore, is inadequate if we wish to shed light upon political Legitimation advertising. Social semiotics Discourse analysis Ó 2014 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
1. Introduction
Calling something clichéd is a negative critical judgement on its style or structure, and on the limited imagination of its creator. On the other hand, to be told that we have made an effective juxtaposition is a compliment, and indeed cliché would seem to be antithetical to effectiveness. This paper addresses the following problem: advertising generally – and recent U.S. political campaign ads specifically – use juxtaposition that is simultaneously effective and clichéd. As viewers, we have little trouble identifying the stereotypes employed, the structural components put together in a formulaic manner, and the stock images, key changes, and colour coordination which form such components. Such is the audience’s awareness of this make- up that a successful spoof ad makes its point simply through the exaggerated application of the formula. To understand how cliché works as a purposive stylistic and compositional element, we need to investigate its complexity of meaning, and as- sess its multifarious realisations. The most common usage of the word cliché falls squarely into Orwell’s ‘catalogue of swindles and perversions’ (Orwell, 1962, p. 149), where it retains its negative connotation of being, at best, the result of slovenly composition, and at worst, a tool used in ‘the defence of the indefensible’ (Orwell, 1962, p. 153). Yet there is also a widespread view that a cliché has come into being be- cause it expresses something universal and eternal. This aphoristic quality, in particular, informs the use of cliché in advertising. McLuhan and Watson (1970) outline the many overlaps and connections between cliché and archetype, recalling the central place of archetype in Jungian philosophy, and the centrality of the ‘symbol’ to cliché, archetype, and juxtaposition. Zijderveld (1979) brings together many of these concerns within an argument which connects the ubiquitous cliché with modernity. Running in parallel with the expectation of cliché in political ads is an expectation of juxtaposition. Defined as the ‘action of placing two or more things close together or side by side, or one thing with or beside another; the condition of being so placed’ (OED Online), juxtaposition also brings with it suggestions of contrast, surprise, antithesis and synthesis. The Dada
⇑ Tel.: +44 (0)131 651 3083 E-mail address: [email protected] http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.langcom.2014.02.001 0271-5309/Ó 2014 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved. R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 101 and Surrealist schools focussed on juxtaposition, as did the filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein. For all three, juxtaposition was a method by which complacency and the status quo could be challenged, a new way forward presented, and the first step to the change taken. The effect of the juxtaposition upon the psyche was both illuminating and transforming. This suited the radical politics of Eisenstein but could hardly suit the ‘more of the same’ message (Silverstein, 2011a) an incumbent pres- idential nominee might hope to convey. Yet conservatism can use shocking juxtaposition in negative campaigning: ‘‘woe unto us if they get in...’’. The infamous ‘Daisy’ anti-Goldwater ad of the 1964 US presidential campaign (the ‘Jaws’ of political ads) juxtaposed the image of an innocent little girl picking and counting petals of a flower with the ominous countdown to a nuclear bomb; the mushroom cloud reflected in the pupil of the girl’s eye. Regardless of political stance, juxtaposition as a means of scaremongering will always be effective. Yet how can a juxtaposition be both effective and clichéd? How is it that audiences still find the shark in the water, the tense music, and the fate of the oblivious bathers nerve-racking, alarming even? How can an ad still create even a slight frisson by presenting a mother kissing a cute child, a panoramic shot of an open, ‘natural’ landscape, and a politician framed against a blue sky?
2. Methodology
The methodology employed in this paper draws from critical discourse studies, and in particular the discourse historical approach (DHA). The DHA focuses upon the evolution of ideas and states of affairs for the purposes of illuminating the pres- ent. The two conjoined ideas under investigation here are cliché and juxtaposition, against a backdrop of political advertising (and specifically, the spot ad); the ultimate aim of the paper being to persuade the reader that the ubiquity of what is called the ‘clichéd juxtaposition’ ought not blind us to its subtle and significant function in political discourse. The DHA ‘explicitly tries to establish a theory of discourse by establishing the connection between fields of action (Girnth, 1996), genres, discourses and texts’(Wodak and Meyer, 2009, p. 26). In relation to the political spot ad, the field of action (if it is to be called one field) is that of mainstream Politics (using the capital to limit the sprawling term ‘politics’ to just what concerns the polity). Within this field, the sub-genre of Political advertising is influenced by a plethora of contemporaneous, societally significant discourses. In recent times for example: the economic discourses of austerity, unemployment, regeneration and regulation, and the moral discourses of prudence, societal progress, and responsibility. These discourses are brought into the Political arena from their own fields (both eco- nomic and moral), thereby creating loops of influence. Such discursive interaction thus influences the texts produced in the relevant fields. My contention is that the use of clichés as vehicles for the easy communication of (purposefully) un(der)stud- ied value statements results in their being endemic to Political advertising (and advertising more generally). Simultaneously, despite this intentional lack of focus on values (through cliché), as advertising, the texts must be notice- able: they are not produced (as many institutional texts seem to be) as part of a bureaucratic demand for recording an official version of what has transpired. An advertisement aims to influence people’s action (see Mackay, 2013b). To gain attention, and to differentiate themselves from the competition – both in terms of holding the attention of an audience that may other- wise turn to another media, or outlet; and also in the more prescribed sense of competing against the other Political actors engaged in the same game. As these Political ads are multimodal texts, I shall also use the framework of social semiotics which, like the DHA, places the social as both the primary motivation and the pivot around which analysis is conducted. Similarly arising out of critical linguistics – and in particular Halliday’s systemic functional linguistics, with its metafunctions – social semiotics has wid- ened its remit to include ‘semiotic devices in discourse other than [but not excluding] the linguistic ones’ (Wodak and Meyer, 2009, p. 15). This allows for the communicative potential of non-linguistic (or not solely linguistic) modes to be taken into account, not as an afterthought, but with equivalent attention. The social aspect of social semiotics enables the analyst to consider the motivations, values, attitudes, ideologies, power-wielding potential, and historical ‘baggage’ which underwrites the affordances of each mode (as well as the limitations to the actual uptake of these affordances). It is beyond the scope of this paper to give anything approaching an exhaustive social semiotic analysis and, as such, I focus mainly, but not exclu- sively, on the visual mode. I use examples from two advertisements from the 2012 US presidential election – the first from the Republican primaries, and the second from the post-nomination presidential campaign. The selection of these two ads comes after a much larger systematic study of the political ad in the U.S. (Mackay, 2013a), in which I surveyed the ads from every U.S. presidential cam- paign in which the television spot was used (1952 onwards). I shall also refer to the spoof ads run as part of the satirical commentary initiated and headed by Stephen Colbert, a well known public figure in the U.S. These four ads are available online and, with the possible exception of the Colbert spoofs, are held in reliable, long-term collections. The addresses for these ads are the following:
‘‘ConservativeLeadership’’ Perry, 2011, Original air date: 31/10/11, From the Political Communication Lab, Stanford. http://pcl.stanford.edu/campaigns/2012/primary/?ad=Conservative+Leadership+-+Rick+Perry+%28SPAC%29+-+Oct+31. ‘‘The Moment’’ Romney, 2012, Original air date: 11/06/12, From Museum of the Moving Image, The Living Room Candi- date: Presidential Campaign Commercials 1952–2012. www.livingroomcandidate.org/commercials/2012/the-moment. Colbert SuperPac Commercial #1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qulpucVacM8. Colbert SuperPac Commercial #2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5m9QZWwIgQ. 102 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
3.1. Style-guides
The most common meaning of cliché is as an overused phrase, a hackneyed expression. The word cliché is a French borrowing, originally the name given to a block of metal used to make a stereotype – a cast – for the purposes of wood- engraving. The etymology illuminates the various meanings: such a cast is manufactured in order to allow easy reproduction. This labour-saving device, when applied figuratively, is taken as implying laziness and lack of originality. The literature on cliché tends to fall into two categories: stylistic and socio-political. The first category is by far the most ubiquitous, with almost every writing style-guide warning against the use of cliché. One example will suffice. In The little brown compact handbook, a relatively recent and popular style-guide (now in its 8th edition), ‘cliché’ has two entries. The first is under the heading ‘Trite expressions’: TRITE EXPRESSIONS or CLICHÉS are phrases so old and so often repeated that they have become stale. [...] To prevent clichés from sliding into your writing, be wary of any expression you have heard or used before. Substitute fresh words of your own, or restate the idea in plain language. (Aaron, 1995, pp. 61–62)
So clear is the case made against cliché, and so obvious the stylistic error, that the only other mention it gets is the reminder that ‘Quotation marks will not excuse slang or a trite expression that is inappropriate to your writing. If slang is appropriate, use it without quotation marks’ (Aaron, 1995, p. 169). Cliché, one may deduce from its absence, is never appropriate. Cameron, in an article entitled ‘Mixing it: the poetry and politics of bad English’ (1998), recalls her school grammar book ‘Pendlebury’ (‘uttered in the same respectful tone as ‘Shakespeare’’), which ‘invited us to sneer at the apocryphal author’ who committed two sins with one stone by both mixing metaphors and using clichés. However, as Cameron makes clear, there is value to be found in such ‘bad’ usage involving creativity and humour (delightful, droll, playful and political). Dillon, too, views as problematic the stylistic rejection of cliché (Dillon, 2006). An appraisal of such style advice as these grammar books offers is not the focus of this paper, but this category of critique forms an important part of the backdrop to the second category – the socio-political. J. Middleton Murry, in The problem of style, takes a deeper and more subtle look at literary style. He points out that clichés come about; they are not created as such. Paradoxically, they arise out of particularly arresting, telling, or original uses of language. This, he notes, means that there is an ironic inevitability in what is deemed ‘original’ becoming mainstream, and then, depending on its influence, becoming clichéd: Habits of language, once formed to give free play to perceptions and thoughts sufficiently unusual, or sufficiently precise, to compel new and vigorous combinations of words to express them, may become mere conventions... It is true, as Coleridge said of Wordsworth, that every original genius has to create the taste by which he is approved.’ (Murry, 1961, pp. 17–18)
Murry is discussing literary style and pointing out the fate of the ‘original genius’ to be copied. And yet, if we take this down to the level of everyday communication – written, spoken or enacted – we do not expect or want constant ‘original genius’. This is a point made by Zijderveld (1979, p. 58): an individual who wants to be original and creative in his social interactions all the time, and who therefore tries to avoid the use of clichés at all costs, is as tiresome in daily life as a person who tries to be funny all the time.
Outlining the drawbacks of both rejecting outright or embracing entirely the use of cliché, Zijderveld calls for a middle path to be taken which will ‘avoid the tyranny of clichés’, yet steer clear of the pitfalls inherent in imagining that it is possible to win an ‘absolute, definitive and total victory’ over cliché. The thesis of Zijderveld’s sociological study is that clichés have a crucial role in modernity – a modernity defined by its valuing of function over and above meaning. Clichés do not so much cause meaning to be superseded, in Zijderveld’s view, as reflect and perpetuate this state of affairs He also sees them as providing a superficial unguent against the alienating and unmooring effects of modernity. Although not Luddite, Zijderveld is not complimentary about modernity, employing Weber’s notion of ‘charisma’, and Benjamin’s notion of ‘aura’ to highlight what, in meaning-making terms, has been lost. Pointing to the etymology of ‘cliché’ and its mechanistic, repetitive and functional characteristics, Zijderveld, like Murry, identifies the paradoxical nature of clichés as containers of old experiences [...] Clichés contain the stale wisdom of past generations – elements of the ‘collective consciousness’ of yester-year. This wisdom is an institutional part of tradition. (p. 11)
The identification of clichés as having value for being ‘substitutes for institutions’ (p. 47) is central to Zijderveld’s argument. Noting the sidelining of the institutions of family, community and church – formerly ‘the main providers and defenders of meaning’ (p. 37) – and the failure of the new institutions of science and politics ‘to provide the individual with meaning; rather they demand his ever lasting functionality’ (p. 37), Zijderveld writes: ‘It is my contention that clichés function as beacons in this vagueness, instability and uncertainty’. R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 103
Clichés afford for the modern man an enchantment, otherwise lost (Weber) or, at least, deeply sublimated (Pareto’s idea of ‘residues and derivations’, p. 63). This ‘admittedly somewhat bold hypothesis’ of cliché standing-in for enchantment (p. 62) introduces Zijderveld’s analysis of the power of advertising. It is here that he is at his most Orwellian: the repeated repetition of a (necessarily) semantically empty cliché is akin to ‘brainwashing’: They [the modern mass media] are able to bombard people loudly and on a massive scale with commercial and political slogans over and over again, gradually making everyone immune to reflection on the semantic content of these slogans. (p. 66) The ‘semantic emptiness of these clichés’, Zijderveld writes, ‘is quite functional, since it can be used for political manip- ulation’ (p. 69). There is, throughout the book, a tension caused by the fact that clichés are described as both ‘semantically empty’ ‘containers’ which can act as vehicles for political propaganda and advertising, and yet are ‘so eminently useful in political manipulations’ for the very fact that in politics ‘clichés can be given any meaning’ (i.e. be semantically filled).
3.2. Cliché in Political discourse
In a Political context, cliché has been of particular interest for those studying Political discourse, particularly in post- Soviet contexts (Iordanova, 1993; Lysakova, 1995; Sedakova, 1994; Zemskaya, 1996), where the propaganda of the Soviet regime is seen to influence more recent public discourse in substantial ways. Ilie (2000) has examined the use of cliché in British Parliamentary discourse. My analysis of the US Political ads will argue, as does Zijderveld, that there are certain layers of meaning which advertisers find it worth discerning, foregrounding some and backgrounding others. For Zijderveld, television in particular is a medium which exploits cliché’s power of enchantment: It is as if the clichés of these commercials try to enter into us, through the eyes and the ears, touching our emotions while bypassing our cognitive faculties. Indeed, analysing them cognitively, commercials appear to be bluntly stupid. Their producers know this perfectly well, of course. But then, they do not want to satisfy our minds. (p. 68) The ability of the cliché to elicit an automatic response leads Zijderveld to ask: ‘Should clichés not be viewed also, in terms of philosophical anthropology as indispensable components of human nature, just as the biological genes and instincts, and the cultural institutions belong to the human condition?’ (p. 55). The rest of this review of the literature on cliché will look at three groups of scholars, all of whom, in their different ways, elaborate upon an affirmative answer to Zijderveld’s question.
3.3. Language, cliché, stereotypes, and doxa
The relationship of cliché to language is discussed and theorised by Volosinov and Bakhtin. Crucially, the shared aspect of language (‘a word is territory shared by both addresser and addressee, by speaker and his interlocutor’, Voloshinov, 1973) presupposes a level of generalisation: ‘what I mean by x is suitably similar to what I believe you will understand by x that I will attempt to communicate by using x0. And generalisation is a core part of cliché. Furthermore, as soon as something is used as currency (language, symbol, cliché), a part of its unique character is both lost, and captured (then reified) (Shotter, 1993). The fundamental – and arguably biological – basis of stereotypes, functioning as ‘maps of the world’ (Lippmann, 1922, cited in Leyens et al., 1994, p. 10), with their ‘affective ingredients’ and ‘kernel of truth’ quality, has led social psychologists to analyse stereotypes (a type of cliché) more carefully (c.f. Leyens et al., 1994). The crux of the matter, according to Amossy, is what is understood to be the role of doxa (common understanding). On the one hand, doxa is ‘the very condition of inter- subjectivity and thus the source of discursive efficacy’ (Amossy, 2002); on the other hand, doxa can be viewed as hindering true communication, relying, as it does, on generalisations and ‘uncritical opinions passively absorbed and repeated’ (Amossy, 2002). The political dimension stems from both these facets: ‘what is perceived as true is what bourgeois ideology presents as natural and self-evident, and this naturalization is nothing but a veiled cultural construction at the service of dominant ideology. Verisimilitude based on doxa is ideology at work’ (Amossy, 2002).
3.4. Cliché as archetype
A cliché – a cast – is the archetype, the original, from which all others are merely copies. McLuhan and Watson link this back to the Jungian conception of archetype, explaining in the process why cliché has such a powerful hold upon us. They quote Jung (1928): The primordial image or archetype is a figure [...] If we subject these images to a closer investigation, we discover them to be the formulated resultants of countless typical experiences of our ancestors. They are, as it were, the psychic residua of numberless experiences of the same type. Jung’s ‘psychic residua’ are not, however, ‘inherited patterns of thought’ (as are Bourdieu’s culturally instilled ‘numb imperatives’), nor are they Sapir’s ‘thought grooves’ (discussed further below). Rather, they ‘belong to the realm of activities of the instincts’ (McLuhan and Watson, 1970). Zijderveld, too, following Gehlen, sees clichés as substitutes for institutions, and institutions as substitutes for instincts (p. 47). The archetype, for Jung, is a structural element in our ‘psychic structure’ 104 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 and, as such, ‘a vital and necessary component in our psychic economy’. The significance of the archetype in this conception can hardly be overstated: ‘it represents or personifies certain instinctive data of the dark primitive psyche; the real, the invis- ible roots of consciousness’. McLuhan and Watson, in discussing why cliché is ‘almost exclusively verbal in its association’ (1970, p. 19), retell a story in which the literary critic I.A. Richards fell into the very cold waters of Lake Mendota while canoeing. He was rescued in an unconscious condition still clinging to the thwart of the canoe. The student paper [...] ran the caption: ‘‘Saved by a stock response’’ (McLuhan and Watson, 1970, p. 20). ‘Most of us’, McLuhan writes, ‘are saved by stock responses in all the nonverbal situations of our lives’ (McLuhan and Watson, 1970).
3.5. Orwell, Whorf, Bourdieu and Billig
Orwell, resisting the use of foreign phrases and imported words when ‘an everyday English equivalent’ (Orwell, 1962, p. 156) can be found, uses the term ‘hackneyed’. The three meanings of hackneyed, as given in the O.E.D. throw light upon the negative connotations attached to cliché, in this dominant, pejorative usage:
hackneyed, adj. 1. Hired; kept for hire. Obs. 2. Used so frequently and indiscriminately as to have lost its freshness and interest; made trite and commonplace; stale. 3. Habituated by much practice, experienced; sometimes with the ulterior idea of disgust or weariness. (OED Online)
The second meaning has been discussed; the first (although now marked obsolete) and third meanings touch upon the added moral dimension of the term, which has been transposed onto, or conflated with, cliché. The idea of being up for hire is paired with moral, and stylistic, indiscriminateness – as well as suggesting the prioritising of monetary profit over moral rectitude. Why this becomes especially relevant in politics is once again taken up by Orwell: When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms [...] All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia [...] if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. (Orwell, 1962, p. 154) There are, therefore, according to Orwell, two disadvantages to the use of cliché: first, it is used ‘in a consciously dishonest way’ (Orwell, 1962, p. 149), as politically expedient ‘euphemism’ to obfuscate. Secondly, it ‘anaesthetizes a portion of one’s brain’ (Orwell, 1962, p. 155), limiting our ability to judge language or express ourselves clearly (as is required when resisting political orthodoxy). Cliché, therefore, is highly suspect when found in political contexts suspected of creating ‘public anesthesia’ (McLuhan and Watson, 1970, p. 13). In Orwell’s opinion cliché is both cause and symptom of habituated (and lazy) thought. The formation of cliché, however, as described above, would give Orwell’s poorly language a shocking diagnosis: cliché is incurable. It is, in the form of arche- type, an instinctive part of our ‘psyche’. This diagnosis, relying as it does on Jung’s unprovable hypothesis, can be easily rejected, although in my view this would be premature. But the idea that our language use is informed by something deep within us, as opposed to something superficial and easy to cast off, is one with longevity. In 1939, Benjamin Lee Whorf wrote that more significant than the idea that ‘an accepted pattern of using words is often prior to certain lines of thinking and forms of behaviour’, was an acknowledgement of the import of ‘the important interconnections which Sapir saw between language, culture, and psychology’ (Whorf, 1956, p. 134). Like Jung’s hypothesis, the ‘Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis’ also had its reputation battered. And yet, the hold our language has upon us, its formative power, and its own dependence on culture and time, continually demand explanation. Bourdieu, in the formulation of ‘habitus’, allows for a degree of negotiated agency, neither freeing the agent from the influence that their language wields, nor insisting that our thoughts are predeter- mined by our language (Bourdieu, 1977). Joseph summarises: The language is, in various ways, the primary text through which the culture is transmitted, and in the course of this early apprenticeship the knowledge involved becomes part not just of our memory but of our nervous system, our bodies, our habitus.(Joseph, 2006, pp. 131–132) This also helps to explain how it can be that a cliché can be effective in spite of being expected, overused, hackneyed or tired. Our early inculcated nervous systems are not so easily told not to react when we hear a nostalgic melody or, for that matter a national anthem. However, it is not as if we are exposed to – taught – brought up in – the semiotic environment of our culture and then left alone, a finished cultural being, instilled with our full semiotic language, and with it, our culture. The ongoing nature of cultural maintenance through ‘banal’ but effective practices (with particular reference to the cul- ture of nationalism), has been studied by Billig (1995). Looking at the symbols of nationalism, Billig realised that continuous and thorough cultural work was being done to maintain cultural (and thus individual) national identity. This was occurring, however, below the radar of consciousness so to speak, in a banal and (necessarily) ignorable fashion. He found, once he had started looking, the manifestations of national identity in all walks of life. The bank notes, the flags, and the stamps, for example were all clichéd reiterations of a more or less uniform national identity. It was only when they were not R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 105 there – or when something about them was significantly altered – that their presence (and even, on occasion, their previous existence) would be noticed. This banality, identified by Billig, is a modification on Zijderveld’s semantically empty contain- ers. Banality, with its semantic vagueness, lines the containers: more can be added by interested parties (advertisers, political players, commercial actors), but the container is not exactly a tabula rasa. It is instructive to note the colour schemes of politicians’ backdrops, especially in the lead up to an election: they are framed most meticulously to match (but not always too obviously) the colours of their political allegiance (see Fig. 1). Flags feature greatly in the whole body of campaign ads, from 1956 to 2012. Billig goes on: One can ask what all these unwaved flags are doing [...] In an obvious sense, they are providing banal reminders of nationhood: they are ‘flagging’ it unflaggingly [...] The remembering is mindless, occurring as other activities are being consciously engaged in. (Billig, 1995, p. 41) The two groups of pictures (Figs. 1 and 2) illustrate the pervasiveness of the flag and the colours of the flag. From the red and blue pickup against a white sky, to the flag lapel pin in Romney’s suit; from the raising of the flag by military personnel against a dramatic sky (accompanied by Romney’s ‘rousing’ speech: ‘‘We have a moral responsibility to keep America the strongest nation on Earth, the hope of the Earth, the shining city on a hill’’), to the flag-festooned stages of both politicians, we have a glut of banal and non-banal U.S. flags. The use of the flags in Colbert’s spoof ads (see Figs. 3 and 4) raises a complication for any clear-cut assessment of cliché as irredeemable, at least stylistically (as Orwell’s criticism would suggest). Acknowledged as a clichéd element within the ads, the ubiquity and absurd application of them in the spoofs achieves the result of an ironic reinvigoration, a new juxtaposition. This effect is discussed by McLuhan and Watson, who trace it back to the Theatre of the Absurd and beyond: Ionesco particularly cultivates the art of the verbal cliché [...] His characteristic effect is a sort of shudder, or frisson. (McLuhan and Watson, 1970, pp. 5–6)
Fig. 1. The red, white and blue theme, Kerry ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.) 106 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
Fig. 2. Some of the many frames with U.S. flags being hoisted or waved, Romney ad.
Fig. 3. Humorously flagging up the ubiquitous use of the flag in ads, Colbert SuperPAC #2.
3.6. Cliché defined
Following on from these reservations, Zijderveld’s definition of cliché needs to be slightly altered for my own purposes. He insists on the cliché as an expression which has ‘lost its original, often ingenious heuristic power’ (p. 10) and thus ‘fails positively to contribute meaning to social interactions and communication’. I agree that a cliché is partially defined by having lost its ‘heuristic and semantic pith’, but its meaning is buried, rather than lost. In certain de-familiarising circum- stances, a cliché can be experienced afresh – perhaps not anew, but with a force which is partially due to its status as cliché. Furthermore, although a cliché’s original meaning may be buried, new meanings may become attached to it, giving it a certain patina. Cliché may be defined thus: R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 107
Fig. 4. Flags as exagerated cliché element for satirical purposes, Colbert SuperPAC #1.
A cliché is a traditional form of human expression (in words, thoughts, emotions, gestures, acts) the original, often heu- ristic power of which, due to repetitive use in social life, is largely hidden and forgotten. Although it thus fails positively to contribute meaning to social interactions and communication in the striking way initially intended, it does function socially, since it manages to stimulate behaviour (cognition, emotion, volition, action), while it avoids reflection on mean- ings. (after Zijderveld, p. 10)1
4. The formulaic ad
It is difficult to outline the ‘formula’ which gives rise to the clichéd ad, not because the clichéd elements are hard to iden- tify, but because there are so many of them. Zijderveld describes clichés as ‘well-nigh lapidary chunks of stale experience’ (p. 15). This reified quality allows for elements to be identified, isolated, and used in the construction of an ad. Not unlike Propp’s posited 31 functions of fairytales, certain elements can be put together in repeated collocations (making these all the more clichéd). An exhaustive list of clichés to be found in political ads would be a massive undertaking – and is not at- tempted here – but the table below is an example (for illustrative purposes) of such a taxonomy (Fig. 5). Down the left-hand side are listed cliché types, with examples given in each column. The tabulation brings to the fore the composite quality of clichés and clichéd collocations; it also helps us see how an ad could contain a clichéd element (e.g. a smiling baby) but, by eschewing other clichéd elements, not be judged as clichéd overall. The more recognisable clichéd elements are used in an ad, the more clichéd the final product will be – until the effect is so great it reaches satirical levels, whereupon the unfo- cussed-upon banality of the elements is challenged. I am aided in the identification of clichés not only by numerous articles discussing the matter from different angles (Brader, 2005; Dingfelder, 2012; Shapiro, 2010), but also by the many websites and blogs devoted to savage discussion of the campaign spots. Shapiro, a veteran political correspondent (having covered eight presidential campaigns), writes of his ‘masochistic exercise’ of watching a large selection of recent campaign ads, ‘of Senate and House candidates from both parties’ (2010). His initial summary of his material: ‘We are all sadly familiar with the security-camera videos, the voice- of-doom narration and the horror-movie music that are the essential ingredients in a 30-second attack ad.’ (Shapiro, 2010), but – and this is the rub and reason – ‘the clichés are unavoidable – and provide a window into what this tumultuous campaign year is all about’ (Shapiro, 2010). Shapiro proceeds by selecting four clichés he has found:
Republican Cliché: Washington Destroyed a Booming Bush Economy. Democratic Cliché: What Stimulus Package? What Health-Care Bill?
1 Zijderveld’s definition is: ‘A cliché is a traditional form of human expression (in words, thoughts, emotions, gestures, acts) which – due to repetitive use in social life – has lost its original, often ingenious heuristic power. Although it thus fails positively to contribute meaning to social interactions and communication, is does function socially, since it manages to stimulate behaviour (cognition, emotion, volition, action), while it avoids reflection on meanings’ (p. 10). 108 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
Fig. 5. Sample taxonomy of clichés to be found in American Political ads.
Republican Cliché: I’m a Citizen Who Hates Politics. Democratic Cliché: Okay, I’m Not Perfect. But Have You Seen My Opponent? (Shapiro, 2010).
These clichés tell us what is being drawn upon in a particular campaign – what selection of narrative structures has been made, and thus, what particular cliché is being expected to win the attention and then the imagination of the electorate. Other channels identifying and critiquing the clichéd productions of political advertising are various ‘spot-ad watches’, which check on the veracity of the claims and discuss their tenor, structure, cost, message, airing, and anything else considered relevant (e.g. ‘PolitiFact.com’ and ‘FactCheck.org’). There are also websites such as ‘The Political Cliché Site’ (SportsCliche.com, 2000-8), humorously (but very accurately) offering ‘An Arsenal of Clichés for the Successful American Politician’. A choice sample from the ‘How to give a speech’ section being:
I’ve met with real Americans. We are the defenders of freedom around the world. No dream is beyond our reach. We’re one people bound together by a common set of ideas. For Incumbents Our country is as strong as it’s ever been. This country has come a long way. This country is headed in the right direction. For Challengers The middle-class deserve a tax cut. Are you better off today than you were four years ago? It’s time for a change. R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 109
It’s time for real leadership. (SportsCliche.com, 2000-8)
In the ‘How to Run the Campaign’ section, the following ‘helpful information’ is given: Most successful campaigns make use of the red-white-and-blue color scheme. A stars-and-stripes decor in campaign signs, buttons, banners, and brochures is a nice extension of this principle. If your opponent grabs these colors before you do, you’ll be at a significant disadvantage. (SportsCliche.com, 2000-8)
Romney and Obama’s logos for the 2012 Presidential campaign were (Fig. 6): The conventions can be identified as apply- ing to the different textual layers in which they appear. Employing levels of analysis which shift from micro to macro, we can usefully look at individual semiotic elements which are used, collocations of these elements, and collocations of these col- locations which make up a narrative frame. We can then, moving to a more macro level, be aware of what from the political, social and historical contexts are routinely deployed within the ads. From the micro-analytical level (or textual close-reading), we can see the use of specific colours to achieve ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ effects, bound up with a struggle to claim the red, white, and blue of the U.S. flag. Colour, as van Leeuwen points out, has to be the colour of something; it cannot exist on its own (2011). Yellow sunlight (as discussed below) is positive (unless placed in a military-desert context whereupon it becomes ‘gruelling’, ‘challenging’, or ‘unaccommodating’). In the American context sunlight is used to light the features of the hero-politician, the ‘innocent’ children, the unspoilt American landscape. It also connotes faith (especially Christian faith), lighting up churches, being seen coming ‘from the heavens’ through illuminated clouds, and being ‘in the frame’ when ‘God fearing Americans’, ‘our faith’, ‘our churches’, and ‘our values’ are mentioned. When sunlight is not yellow, but more obviously pink or orange – signifying sunrise or sunset – it has the added quality of denoting ‘a new day’, with all the significance this has in political imagery every four years. Time passes, the past is behind us, a new (read also ‘clean’, ‘fresh’, ‘unsullied’, ‘optimistic’, etc.) day is begun. Another group of conventions is that of characters to be expected. From the Romney and Perry ads we get the following (Fig. 7): the ‘old and proud’ American, the innocent children (there is a glut of this category), the multi-generational shot, the multi-ethnic shot, the military shot, the inspired crowd shot, the inspiring speaker shot, and the empathetic leader shot. Depending on whether the ad is an attack ad, or a positive ad, we can also expect the proud factory worker who is now unemployed, the mom ‘struggling to make ends meet’, the victim-of-our-opponents shot, the politician and wife at home shot, etc. This list of extras is a very long one: the important thing to note is that these characters remain one dimensional, mere frames upon which to hang a value, an emotive chord, or a line of argument. They are props – theatrical objects and argument supports. At this micro-analytical level we also need to look at structure, and for this, Eisenstein’s theory of mon- tage (Taylor and Glenny, 1991) is very useful. It takes account of the decisions made by the cinematographer, the composer, and the film editor. The length of frames (in the Romney ad we get ‘luxurious’ long panning shots of nature, signifying time, momentum, and forward motion within the context of timeless grandeur), the camera angle for faces, the lighting effects, the framing distance, and many more of the options which make up the art of film. As convention, for example, we can expect a supported politician to be brightly and warmly lit from below at mid distance. This gives the impression of stature and importance. Often a podium is used as a prop, and the crowd are below, but attentive (see Fig. 7). For opposing politicians we will be likely to see a close-up, unflattering, and artificially lit (often almost greyscale monotone), emphasising the pores on the skin, or wrinkles and folds (if portrayed as old, as McCain was by the Obama campaign in 2008). At the intertextual level (the macro analytical level), particular ads from previous campaigns are referred to, such as the iconic ‘Daisy’ ad, Reagan’s ‘Bear’ ad, and, for reasons other than emulation, the ‘Willie Horton’ ad. We also find an emulation of tone: the Reagan ‘Morning in America’ ad campaign sets the standard in this regard, with later ads emulating its music, film quality, narrator’s voice quality, represented elements and message. Since that 1984 campaign, Clinton, Bush Sr and Bush Jr, Kerry, McCain and Obama have all featured in ‘Morning In America’ style ads. The success of that campaign has led to its features becoming clichéd (see Section 7). On the macro scale, there are certain ‘themes’ which it is conventional to follow: the biographical ad, the issue ad (e.g. tax, welfare, defence, environment), the humorous attack ad, the ‘time-for-a-change’ ad. These all reflect perennial concerns of the electorate, and repeatable frameworks in which to ‘address’ them (or at least address how they are not being addressed
Fig. 6. The clichéd use of red, white and blue in Romney and Obama’s campaign logos. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.) 110 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
Fig. 7. Conventional characters and roles played, Perry and Romney ads. by one’s opponent). These themes do change, but over decades. Civil rights, for example, have fallen off the list and been replaced by, perhaps, healthcare reform. With the demographic of the U.S. shifting significantly, we can imagine that the next few decades may see other issues being addressed which may matter particularly to, for example, the Latino demographic. We may also expect to see the supporting semiotics of these issue ads reflect the voting power of this target audience, much as the 2008 Obama campaign reflected a younger demographic in its use of graphics and soundtrack.
5. Political spot ads in the U.S.
Detailing the rise of the spot ad, Diamond and Bates state that, having developed throughout the 1920s, ‘[b]y the 1930s short, punchy commercials, called ‘‘spot announcements’’ or simply ‘‘spots’’, were commonplace’ (Diamond and Bates, 1993, p. 35). This was on the radio: television spots had to wait until the 1952 Stevenson vs. Eisenhower presidential election. An early precursor, however, is noted by Diamond & Bates: In 1934 the muckraker and Nativist Radical Upton Sinclair became the Democratic candidate for governor of California. Businessmen and conservatives, who regarded Sinclair’s program to end poverty as a Bolshevik plan to redistribute the wealth were horrified. The Republicans hired Lord & Thomas, a top ad agency, and also retained the California political consulting firm, the first in the nation, of Whitaker & Baxter to fight Sinclair. Whitaker & Baxter produced phony newsreels of staged events. R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 111
This in itself is instructive: negative advertising was present at the very conception of the spot – it may have grown dis- proportionately as compared with its positive counterpart, as Iyengar and McGrady (2006) assert, but it is nothing new, and is certainly not a warping of some earlier, cleaner, tradition. Furthermore, here, in 1934, we already have the organisational umbrella under which a modern election campaign runs: businessmen (or more widely, financiers), an ad agency (or often, agencies), a political consulting firm, and a politician. The independent interests and demands of these interested parties must, to the extent that they are conflicting, be mediated somehow within the result. Colbert’s spoofs were a response to a shift in the legal status and regulation of financing of politicians by corporations and special interest groups, a shift which itself arose from a Supreme Court ruling on the First Amendment (Citizens United vs. Federal Election Commission). This ruling altered the status of corporations, associations, and unions with regard to free speech, and thus enabled them to en- gage in and pay for direct political advocacy, which had previously been banned. SuperPACs (large political action commit- tees) were prominent and powerful in the 2012 campaign and their ability to raise and spend very large amounts of money2 in endorsing a specific candidate, while stopping short of giving money to the campaign, laid the ground for Colbert to set up his own satirical SuperPAC and run his ads through it. From the contents of these early newsreels, we can also see the use and effectiveness of cliché. In one, dozens of bedraggled hoboes leap off a freight train, presumably having arrived in the Promised Land of California. Explains one bum: ‘‘Sinclair says he’ll take the property of the working people and give it to us’’. In another, a bearded man with a Hollywood-Russian accent explains why he will vote for Sinclair: ‘‘His system vorked vell in Russia, so vy can’t it vork here?’’ (Diamond and Bates, 1993, pp. 36–37)
Cliché can be used as a speedy ‘shorthand’, deploying stereotypes to great effect. This, too, has remained unchanged. In fact, Diamond and Bates suggest that ‘these Republican newsreels would serve as a model for television spot advertising when TV became a dominant national force’ (Diamond and Bates, 1993). A ‘model’, it is worth noting, is an archetype of sorts, and an archetype, as we have seen, when understood in the Jungian sense is ‘a pervasive idea, image, or symbol that forms part of the collective unconscious’ (OED Online). More on the significance of this below. Political spot ads have traditionally run at about thirty seconds. This has, however, been lengthening as the money to buy more prime air time has become available and as the internet as publishing forum has become an increasingly viable and popular option. Another legal requirement came into law in 2002 and is called the ‘Stand By Your Ad’ provision, in which those responsible for the ad have to declare this in both writing and in speech. It often takes the form of ‘I am [candidate’s name], and I approve this message’, with some small variations in this wording. SuperPACs do not fall under this law, and need not declare who is behind them, and thus, it has been suggested (Boak, 2011; Mooney, 2012), the unclaimed negative ads which the 2002 provision was supposed to curtail have been reinstated as the norm.
6. Cliché and intertextuality
The fact that certain ads are particularly well-known – and often set a benchmark for effectiveness – implies an historical awareness of the political ad through time. Not only are particular ads recognised, but there are campaigns which are remembered for their tenor. This (difficult to quantify) public awareness enables and encourages intertextual referencing, so that within one campaign ads often run with a theme (e.g. ‘It’s time for a change’, or ‘Don’t change a good thing’), and refer back to earlier campaigns, earlier ads, and thus earlier values, political positions, electoral successes and defeats, etc. This can include earlier ads by the opponent’s campaign which the new ads are intended to challenge and neutralise. This use of previous ads and previous ad campaigns clearly has implications for an analysis of cliché and genre, for, as Lemke states, Genres are social semiotic formations, that is, they are social constructions, the products of conventional social meaning- making practices that belong to a community’s system of intertextuality [...] Co-generic texts are privileged intertexts for each other’s interpretation. (Lemke, 1999, p. 1)
Intertextual referencing is not in any way bound to written or spoken language, but can involve other modes (see Machin and Richardson, 2012). In fact, being a cinematic construction, an advertisement’s use of intertextual referencing is just as likely to be multimodal (involving more than one mode simultaneously). Thus, the Colbert SuperPAC ads use multimodal intertextuality to refer to the objects of their satire (e.g. referencing the Iowa Straw Poll, and the ‘Jobs for Iowa SuperPAC’). We can see specific references to the campaign they are part of (2012), but also the referencing of time-tested, clichéd musical and visual ‘phrases’. The first set below includes the warm, pinky-yellow sunshine of sunrise (or sunset) – which does not have to be connoted by an actual sunrise or sunset, but can be suggested.It can even be suggested suggestively, as in the Colbert spoof (#2) which pictures a cob of very yellow, phallic, corn having yellow butter melted on it, the appearance of which is accompanied by a narrator’s lowered pitch and huskier voice – ‘we’re gonna give it to ya’ – and a sudden change in music to a slow funk-soul phrase. Of course, this use of voice is another level of semiosis – enrichening the multimodal aspect of the ad. Voice quality and the manipulation of the voice is a semiotic affor- dance the uptake of which has evolved together, in a discursive sense, with technology and audience expectation of what a
2 The Center for Responsive Politics states that the total raised by PACs in 2012 was $1.4 billion (http://www.opensecrets.org/pacs/). 112 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
Fig. 8. Yellow-pink sunlight, Perry ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.) voice – and how a voice – means (see further van Leeuwen, 2009). In the Colbert spoof (#1), word-play in the form of homo- phones, is used alongside this ‘positive’ corn-y imagery. In it, the supported candidate ‘our Parry’ (/peri/) is hyperbolically contrasted, for satiric purpose, with the ‘negative’ and ‘immoral’ ploys of ‘their Perry’ (/peri/) (the real Republican Primaries candidate) whose campaign is supported by: outside groups like Jobs For Iowa SuperPAC [that] are trying to pander to Iowans with pro-Perry ads featuring cheap cor- nography... that your kids could see!
The spoof works by using slight exaggeration, while keeping within the realms of believability. The rhetorical work of the message and its delivery are hammed-up, a practice easily identified in the exaggerated deictic use of ‘our’ and ‘their’ (see Chilton, 2003, 2004) and through the heavy-handed positive Self – and negative – Other presen- tation (see van Dijk, e.g. 2006). Yet, although less theorised than the linguistic features discussed by critical discourse ana- lysts, features of the non-linguistic modes are similarly open for exaggeration (for the purposes of satirical humour). McLuhan and Watson write: Language as gesture and cadence and rhythm, as metaphor and image, evokes innumerable objects and situations which are themselves non-verbal. [...T]here is at all times interplay between these worlds of percept and concept, verbal and nonverbal. Anything that can be observed about the behaviour of linguistic cliché or archetype can be found plentifully in the nonlinguistic world. (McLuhan and Watson, 1970, p. 20)
The first set of stills below (Figs. 8–11) shows the use – and then the exaggerated use – of colour for the sake of positive Self-presentation (which, in this satirical context, actually amounts to negative Other presentation). This is only possible with the technology which allows for colour film to be both made and watched. Before the advent and ubiquity of colour television, there could be no such value placed on the difference between tones of yellow. However, audiences then had heightened awareness of shade and saturation on the greyscale that may be lost on a present-day audience dulled by colour.
Fig. 9. Yellow-pink sunlight, Romney ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.) R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 113
Fig. 10. Yellow-pink sunlight, Colbert SuperPAC #2 ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.)
Fig. 11. Yellow-pink colour, Colbert SuperPAC #2 ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.)
In the second set (Figs. 12–17) we can see the use of the formula ‘green + Nature’, a clichéd shorthand for qualities such as ‘natural’, ‘clean’, ‘balanced’, ‘healthy’, ‘down-to-earth’. Machin (2004) has written about the hugely increased use of image banks (such as Getty images) for the conveyance of both concrete and abstract ideas, and Machin and Hansen (2008) have
Fig. 12. Green fields (with the flag lightly behind), Perry ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.) 114 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
Fig. 13. ‘Seeing the light’ through the green canopy, Romney ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.)
Fig. 14. Surveying nature: ‘green + Nature’ plus yellow-pink sunlight, Romney ad. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.)
Fig. 15. Green fields (with generations), Colbert SuperPAC #1. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.) R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 115
Fig. 16. Green fields and a sheep to prove it, Colbert SuperPAC #1. (For interpretation of the references to colour in this figure legend, the reader is referred to the web version of this article.)
Fig. 17. A young lady in fields of corn, the stars and the stripes, Colbert SuperPAC #2.
Fig. 18. Eisenstein’s graphic of juxtaposition (Eisenstein, 1929, p. 99). discussed the use of such stock images for marketing ‘the environment’ as a business opportunity. But the use of such generalised images to imply or connote further meanings is one which, according to van Leeuwen (2010), has come full circle. The use of tokens to signify type rather than individual (e.g. a general crowd as opposed to a specific crowd; or an unindividualised landscape as opposed to a specific and identifiable landscape3) was common practice in the Middle Ages, and has, once again, become standard practice. The relation between ‘stereotype’, ‘generalisation’ and ‘cliché’ comes to the fore here (see Fig. 18).
3 Some specific landmarks become iconic and thus extend their meaning beyond their own specificity to embrace a wider and occasionally ‘universal’ concept. For example, the Statue of Liberty, often featuring in political spot ads no longer simply represents itself, but is more generally seen to symbolise the value of ‘liberty’. This was clearly the aim of the Statue and in that respect statues and memorials are interesting holders of abstract and concrete notions (see further Abousnnouga and Machin, 2010). 116 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119
7. ‘Stock responses’
One can watch the Romney ad again and again and, while not necessarily agreeing with his politics or even what he says in this specific ad, the goose bumps can appear. The physical response to the conjunction of melody and image is not overridden by a rational dislike of the man, his party, his politics, or the ‘manipulative’ ad. If a certain chord change, a certain colour, indeed any particular combination of semiotic communications can be relied upon to have some degree of emotional effect upon an audience, then this ‘phrase’ will be used over and over again until – and even after – it has become a cliché. In a sense, this function of clichés (identified as central by Zijderveld) can be seen as split into two: in one way, the use of a cliché to express ‘a universal’ (e.g. sun is good) perfectly matches meaning with method of communication (cliché archetype instinctive primordial). In another, more cynical sense, we need to be open to the possibility of the cliché becom- ing such through a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy (as Murry noted with reference to Wordsworth). For several decades starting from the 1940s, advertisements juxtaposed cigarettes with sexual satisfaction. The more the collocation was employed, the more the juxtaposition became not shocking, startling, titillating, surprising, fresh or original, but expected, clichéd, and – in time – ‘natural’. The establishment of such an association, habituated and banal, may undermine the ‘shock’ of the pairing, but it still promises the desired results. Cliché can offer the security of the ‘known’. And the ‘known’ has the associated qualities of security, reliability, expectability, tradition, and ‘undeniable’ truth (e.g. ‘This may be a cliché, but you can’t deny...’). These qualities are, understandably, very attractive to political campaign producers.
8. Juxtaposition
Juxtaposition takes two known elements and makes anew. The echoes of Pound’s phrase, ‘Make it New!’ here are notice- able. With similar concerns to those of Orwell, Pound wanted a radical overhaul of English – as with Orwell, for the sake of both writing and thinking. Eisenstein and the artists grouped under Symbolism, Imagism, Dada, and Surrealism, were all in- tent and passionate about the forging of a new (and a new way of) understanding the world. If we bring this back to present- day advertising, we can detect the influence these movements have had. Running counter to this, however, is the fact that mainstream American politics is not – Republican or Democrat – revolutionary, subversive, or parodying. There is a desire for newness but only within the tight economy of maintaining the status quo (Fig. 19). Juxtaposition cliché, therefore, is used for what Eisenstein would surely consider superficial purposes: to juxtapose ele- ments for effect, yet remain within the confines of the political arena, as identified by Silverstein (see below). The juxtaposed elements are looking to shock just a little (rather, perhaps, to titillate) for the sake of creating a formulaic mental and phys- ical response. By juxtaposing clichéd elements, this effect can be achieved. A tame, reliable, safe juxtaposition (Fig. 20). There is often derision concerning ads such as these and their use of what ought, artistically and morally, to be neither tame nor safe. Virilio, somewhat bleakly addressing our culture’s embracing of the instantaneous and hybridized, writes that In these manifestations [...] the idea is not so much to link elements in a given space of time as to shake up the onlooker or listener by means of an emotional impact strategy that involves the surprising instant [...] all the art forms and their specific morphology, abandoning themselves to this rhythmology in which provocation and intimidation sell so amaz- ingly well that Anglo-Saxon advertising people have created the term SHOCK_VERTISING in reference to the commercial necessity of shocking to attract attention. (Virilio, 2011, p. 235)
Still, the question arises as to why shock through clichéd juxtaposition, as common and expected and successful as it is, should attract criticism. Brill suggests that much of the debate
Fig. 19. Juxtaposition within the frame – advertising the ‘solid conservative’, Perry. R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 117
Fig. 20. Juxtaposition between frames: ‘‘These last two years haven’t been the best of times, but while we’ve lost a couple of years, we have not lost our way’’, Romney ad.
can be understood as a disagreement over the importance and legitimacy of what is communicated. In other words, there is an implicit distinction between an acceptable and an unacceptable use of shock – a distinction that culminates in the prevailing condemnation of a shock for shock’s sake: an unwarranted use of shock, triggered for the mere sake of drawing attention to a work for its own publicity [...]. (Brill, 2010, p. 151)
That is, if there is no dialectical struggle, no synthesis aiming to alter our minds, but merely an attempt to grab our atten- tion and reiterate and reconfirm the status quo, then shock is an illegitimate method – particularly if it also taps into emotional responses.
9. Cliché and ‘political message’
How does the deployment of cliché in the campaign ad fit in with the creation and maintenance of a candidate-specific ‘political message’? Silverstein has articulated the notion of ‘political message’ being an institutional construct in which a politician must create ‘biographical illusion’ (a term he takes from Bourdieu, 2000): The biographical illusion – a plotline moving the politician as coherent and integral character through situations with respect to a whole cast of others – attracts (or avoids) issues as it attracts – or repels – voters [...](Silverstein, 2011a)
Crucially, however, what is not required from this plotline is outstanding originality: a few idiosyncratic and personalis- ing, personable trimmings will do. In the main, however, Political figures have to emerge on the horizon of a tableau or diorama, and to continue adding to that tableau in ways that are consistent and coherent, or at least not inconsistent or incoherent. (Silverstein, 2011a)
Creating and maintaining such a ‘political message’ demands the collection and subsequent arrangement and choreogra- phy of ‘emblems of identity’: ‘particular semiotic flotsam, the design elements of ‘‘message’’ [...] that can be deployed to remind folks’ of who and what ‘the political figure is’ (Silverstein, 2011a). The constraints implied in this creation of a historically determined normative ‘political message’ help explain why each presidential hopeful may appear to us, the public, as a clichéd construction. And yet, it could be countered, this may explain why candidates seem like clichéd productions, but not why the ads ‘sell- ing’ them are also so very formulaic. A product’s blandness – or lack thereof – need not limit the originality of the advertising made for the purposes of promotion. At this point we need to address the question of what is, in fact, clichéd about these ads. Is it their structure? Their mes- sage? The candidates they represent (or rather their produced public personas)? The material used to represent them (i.e. the semiotic language used)? If all of the above, as I argue, perhaps our use of the description ‘clichéd’ is symptomatic of our misunderstanding of a genre and its constraints. If we look on a larger scale, we may be able to view these clichéd campaign ads less as unimaginative, slovenly and suspect, than as a de facto political requirement realised through a specific genre (the genre of U.S. political spot ads) deemed necessary for the upholding of – and inclusion in – the diorama. Indeed, not only the diorama, but the political brand (Silverstein, 2011b). It is a part of the definition of genre that there are constraints on selected elements and these constraints go towards defining the genre identity. For many genres, these stipulations are tight and orthodoxly demanded and applied. A political example is the regimentation of questions and answers as they play out in parliaments. A literary example is the ancient Japanese tradition of haiku, where any deviation from the genre’s form has to be executed extremely carefully and mini- mally. We do not view parliamentary Q & A s or haikus as clichéd, at least not for the reasons of adhering to their particular genre’s structural stipulations. So, let us ask again: why do political ads come under such criticism? To answer this, we need to persevere in analysing our relationship with the material of the ads. First, are we, the audience, viewing advertisement as art? If so, we shall be 118 R.R. Mackay / Language & Communication 37 (2014) 100–119 expecting something new, slightly shocking and, crucially, revelatory, even if that comes within the strict genre stipulations (as with haiku). Are we expecting our desire for Progress to be reflected in our politicians? If so, we shall want something truly new; a change. Ironically, the refrain of it being ‘time for a change’ because ‘we can’t afford four more years of the same’ is one of the most clichéd elements of political advertising. Does our frustration then arise from our thwarted desire for something politically radical? I think this can be disregarded for something a little more subtle – something identified by Orwell and discussed by Silverstein. With the use of cliché – or what Orwell, rejecting the import of foreign words for political-stylistic reasons (‘pretentious diction’), calls ‘ready-made phrases’ (Orwell, 1962) – ‘one often has a curious feeling that one is not watching a live human being but some kind of dummy’ (Orwell, 1962). Orwell alerts us to the fact that this metaphorical turn of phrase is not altogether fanciful. A speaker who uses that kind of phraseology has gone some distance towards turning himself into a machine [...] he may be almost unconscious of what he is saying, as one is when one utters the responses in church. And this reduced state of consciousness, if not indispensable, is at any rate favourable to political conformity.
Silverstein looks into the reason why bloopers – deviations from this smoothly produced ‘machine’-talk – attract so much attention. He posits that this is because of a feeling that behind the clichéd production, clichéd speech, clichéd candidate- product, there is something real. ‘Gaffes’ therefore, ‘become lenses that make sharp the incompatibilities and incoherences of ‘‘the real stuff’’ in the raw material, the inner person who, through ‘‘message,’’ is seeking our understanding – and our vote’ (Silverstein, 2011b). We relish the chance to ‘see beneath’ the covers of cliché (Silverstein mentions Freud in this regard), to beat the smooth production we know is feeding us formulaic campaign food, and ‘get to the truth’, as opposed to what Sil- verstein calls (using a term coined by Colbert) the ‘truthiness’.
10. Conclusion
Eisenstein’s montage theory, detailing as it does the ideological use to which juxtaposition can be put, is the anti-cliché product, until it becomes in Postmodern haste a send-up of itself. This is the cinematic partner to the revelatory narrative we (think we) want our politicians to tell. Yet the politicians most likely to stand in a presidential election are mainstream – their policy differences are generally a matter of degrees. To get a message across in a way that arrests and scares yet reassures, clichéd juxtaposition is an effective tool. As the audience, we are moved: the entertainment value of these ads, which I have not discussed, is of course relevant. If we are to sit through these ads, we want them to be satisfactory. Not overly disturbing, however: the ‘Daisy’ ad was withdrawn after one showing, and the boat-rocking ad campaign of Ron Paul was not a winner in the 2012 Republican Primaries. The clichéd character of these ads, I have argued, has three main reasons for existing. First, following Orwell, they are clichéd for ease, for easy recognitional value, for obfuscating the complexity of the real issues, and for feeding an audience what they expect to see. Secondly, as discussed by McLuhan, the archetypal quality of cliché allows for the for the ‘message’ to be expressed in terms of what is ‘universal’, what has a ‘grain of truth’ about it, a commonsense value to which we respond not only mentally but physically. Thirdly, the necessity of creating and maintaining ‘political message’, as identified by Silverstein, suggests that these ads are matched to function, with cliché being, in fact, a genre stipulation.4
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my two reviewers for giving me very useful feedback on an earlier draft, and invaluable recommendations for further references I could consult. I would also like to thank John E. Joseph for his editorial advice.
References
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