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THE PRESENTATION OF LANDSCAPE:

RHETORICAL CONVENTIONS AND THE PROMOTION OF

TOURISM IN BRITISH COLUMBIA, 1900-1990

by

RONALD ROSS NELSON

B.A., The University of British Columbia, 1983 M.A., The University of Waterloo, 1985

A THESIS SUBMInED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF

THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHiLOSOPHY

in

THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES

(Department of Geography)

We accept this thesis as conforming

to the required standard

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

April 1994

© Ronald Ross Nelson, 1994 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission.

(Signature)

Department of p The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada Date Z7, /

DE-6 (2/88) ABSTRACT

This thesis argues that landscapes are products of language, that the meaning of a landscape depends upon how it is presented and interpreted in the course of human communication. It is also argued that the field of rhetoric—as a body of theory, ideas, and methods for interpreting the persuasive use of language—can assist human geographers in their attempts to interpret landscapes. These positions are put to work in a study of the promotion of tourist landscapes by the British Columbia government.

Two time periods are examined: first, presentations of landscape during the 1920s and

1930s, and second the 1970s and 1980s. These periods are similar in that they are periods of transition—periods in which the tourism industry underwent significant change. The first period is associated with the development of mass tourism, and specifically with the emergence of the state as a major player in the tourist industry. The second period concerns the recent development of postmodern (alternative environmental and cultural) tourism. Postmodem tourism is characterized by the rejection of mass tourism and by the quest for real places and experiences. The thesis uses both qualitative and quantitative (computer-assisted content analysis) methods to examine how the state has rhetorically responded to these changes in its presentations of landscape. Changes are found in both periods, but they are gradual and incomplete. It is consequently argued that the state’s character as an author limits its audience and the strategies it may use for presenting tourist landscapes.

11 TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT . jj

TABLE OF CONTENTS . iii

LIST OF TABLES vi

LIST OF FIGURES ix

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS x

DEDICATION xi

INTRODUCTION: ON NETS AND FISH 1

CHAPTER 1: PERSPECTIVES ON LANDSCAPE 12 Classifying Ideas of Landscape 13 Dramatism and Kenneth Burke 15 Perpectives on Landscape 28 Traditional 30 Humanist 35 Marxist 40 Communicative 45 Future Perspectives7 51 Notes 53

CHAPTER 2: RHETORIC AND PRESENTATIONS OF LANDSCAPE 59

Review of Interpretive Methods 60 Starting Points 67 Competing Ideas of Rhetoric 71 Modernist Views of Rhetoric 71 The Modernist View of Rhetoric in Geography 78 The New Rhetoric 80 Recent Trends in Rhetoric 86 Rhetoric and Presentations of Landscape 95 Conclusion 101 Notes 102 CHAPTER 3: TOURISM: A REVIEW OF THE MASS AND POSTMODERN LiTERATURE 108

Tourism Geography: Problems and Prospects 110 TheResortCycle 115 Stages of Modern Tourism 119 Mass Tourism 123 Postmodern Tourism 138 Conclusion 153 Notes 155 In CHAPTER 4: QUANTITATiVE METHODOLOGY .161

The HyperDiction Program 163 Word Lists and Indices 165

Problems with Computer-based Content Analysis .. 177

Sampling Procedure . 179 Rhetorical Patterns in Tourism Advertising 183 Conclusion 196 Notes 199 CHAPTER 5: TOURISM AND THE STATE, A CONTEXTUAL DISCUSSION 201

The Beginnings of Tourist Promotion .. 201

The Origins of State Participation in Tourist Promotion . 202 The Magnitude of Victorian and early Mass Tourism 222 The Promotion of Mass Tourism 240 Mass Tourism and the Growth of State Participation 240 Mass Tourist Markets and Promotions 249 Postmodern Tourism 253 The State and Postmodem Tourism 253 Adventure and Cultural Tourism in British Columbia 257 Conclusion 270 Notes 272

CHAPTER 6: THE PRESENTATION OF MASS TOURIST LANDSCAPES 285

Aristocratic Presentations . 288 The Structure of Aristocratic Presentations 291 Varieties of Embellishment in Aristocratic Prose 298

Addressing the Aristocratic Audience . 305 Summary 308 Early Mass Tourism 309 In Search of a Rhetoric of Common Currency 319 Other Examples 324 The Transitional Rhetorics of Other State Tourist Bureaus 331 The CPR and the Persistence of the Picturesque 341 Conclusion 343 Notes 344

CHAPTER 7: THE PRESENTATION OF POSTMODERN LANDSCAPES 347

The Rhetoric of Mass Tourism 349 The Dick and Jane Style of Mass Tourism 355 The Rhetorical Qualities of Mass Presentations 363 Summary 370 Postmodem Presentations: A New Rhetoric’) 371 Heritage Guides 389 Adventure Presentations 400 Conclusion 419 Notes 421

iv CONCLUSION . . ..,,. 423

Cultural Geography, Landscape and Rhetoric . ,..,.•. .., ...... 424 Tourism, Landscapes, Advertising, and Technology 430 Concluding Remarks 439 Notes 442

PRIMARY SOURCES 445

B.C. Government 4-45 Canadian Pacific Railway 453 Municipal Tourist Organizations 456 Vancouver 456 Victoria 458 Other State Tourist Bureaus 460 Alberta 460 Canada .461 Others 462 Adventure and Cultural Brochures 462 Heritage Brochures 464

SECONDARY SOURCES . 465

APPENDICES 493

A: HyperDiction Results: Raw Scores 494 B: HyperDiction Results: Summary Tables 505 Bi = Summary of All Samples 505 B2 = Summary of Periodic Data 506 B3 = Summary of Data by Author and Period 508 C: WordLists 512 D: Samples of the HyperDiction Interface 518

V LIST OF TABLES

1.1 Dramatist Chart, Perspectives on Landscape in Cultural Geography 29

1.2 Comparison of Agent and Purpose Terms in Humanist Cultural Geography 36 4.1 Rhetorical Comparison of All Sample Texts by Historical Period 184

4.2 Rhetorical Comparison by Period of Texts Issued by the BC Government 185

4.3 Summary Correlation Matrix 186

4.4 Government Sample Correlation Matrix 187

4.5 Significant Correlations Matrix 188

4.6 Major Rhetorical Differences Between Historical Periods 198

5.1 Government of British Columbia Immigration Expenditures 204 5.2 British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information Expenditures, 1901. 1918 207

5.3 British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information Literature Distribution, 1910 208

5.4 British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information Expenditures, 19 19- 1946 219

5.5 Source of Tourist Inquiries And Literature Distributed, 1939-1941 221

5.6 Origins of Hotel Registrants in Banff, 1890- 1925 . ,. . .224

5.7 Canad&s Foreign Tourist Revenue 225

5.8 Canada’s Foreign Tourist Revenue—1869 to 1955 227

5.9 Tourists Entering British Columbia Through Ocean Ports 229

5.10 British Columbia Fish and Game Licences Issued to Foreigners 230 5.11 Canada Selected Exports 232

5.12 Foreign Travel Expenditures in Canada, by Source and Mode of Travel, 1900-1942 ,..234

5.13 Origin of American Tourists and the Distribution of British Columbia’s GTB’s Print Advertising, 1938 239

5.14 Expenditures by State Tourist Bureaus in Canada 241 vi 5.15 Promotional Expenditures by State Tourist Bureaus . .. . .242

5,16 Estimates of British Columbia’s Tourist Revenues . . ..245

5.17 Expenditures per Capita by State Tourist Bureaus in Canada .248

5.18 Promotional Expenditures per Capita by State Tourist Bureaus in Canada 250

5.19 Origins of Adventure and Cultural Tourists in British Columbia 260

5.20 Annual Family Income of Marine Adventure Tourists in British Columbia, 1990 264

5.21 Annual Family Income of Heritage Tourists—Barkerville, 1979 266

6.1 Rhetorical Character of Aristocratic Presentations, 19004920 289

6.2 Rhetorical Comparison of All Early Tourist Presentations, 1900-1945 311

6.3 Rhetorical Comparison of the Bureau of Provincial Information’s Presentations, 1900-1945 312

6.4 Rhetorical Comparison of Other Early Tourist Presentations, 1900-1945 313

6.5 Rhetorical Comparison of Aristocratic and Early Mass Presentations by

Tourist Organizations - BPI . .315

6.6 Rhetorical Comparison of Early Mass Tourist Presentations, 1920-1945 316

7.1 Rhetorical Comparison Early and Mass Presentations, 1920-1990 350 7.2 Rhetorical Comparison of Aristocratic and Mass Tourism Presentations, 1900-1990 352

7.3 Rhetorical Comparison of Early and Mass Presentations by the BPI and GTB, 1920-1945 353 7.4 Rhetorical Comparison of other Early and Mass Tourism Presentations, 1920-1990 354

7.5 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass Tourism Presentations, 1945-1990 356

7.6 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations, 1945- 1992 372

7.7 Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations, Ministry, Adventure, and Heritage, 1980-1992 374 7.8 Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations by Adventure and Heritage Organizations 375

vu 7.9 Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations by the Ministry and Heritage Organizations, 1980-1992 ...... 376

7.10 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by Tourist and Heritage Organizations, 1945-1992 377

7.11 Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations by the Ministry and Adventure Organizations, 1980-1992 379 7.12 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by All Mass and Adventure Organizations, 1945-1992 380

7.13 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by the GTB and Adventure Organizations, 1980-1992 382

7.14 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodem Presentations by Tourist

and Adventure Organizations . .383

7.15 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodem Presentations by All Mass Organizations and the Ministry, 1945-1992 385 7.16 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodem Presentations by the GTh and Ministry of Tourism, 1945-1992 386

7.17 Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodem Presentations by Tourist Organizations and the Ministry, 1945-1992 388

VIII LIST OF FIGURES 4.1 Sample Distribution by Period and Author . 182

4.2 General Rhetorical Patterns 197

6.1 Contrasting Styles, Tabloid Travel Talks (1933) 321

6.2 Contrasting Styles of the Vancouver Tourist Association (1928, 1931) 337

7.1 Contrasting Styles, Alluring British Columbia 357 7.2 Contrasting Styles, British Columbia, Canada 360

7.3 Rhetorical Comparison of Early and Mass Presentations by the BPI and GTB, 1920-1945 367

7.4 Contrasting Styles, The Ministry’s Heritage Presentations .398

7.5 Adventure Tourism Presentations, Hard to Soft 410

7.6 Adventure Presentations, BC Ministry of Tourism 415

ix ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the assistance and contribution of the following persons to this thesis:

Dr. Trevor Barnes, for his interest, advice, knowledge, and persistence

Dr. Glenn Deer, for his encouragement and insight

Dr. David Ley, for his understanding and exemplary contributions to human geography

and Kenneth Burke, James Duncan, Roderick Hart, Erilc Cohen, Dean

MacCannell, Mary Louise Pratt, and Harold Jnnis, Although I have only met

these scholars textually, their work has strongly influenced my own.

x DEDICATION

To G.M.N.

Without Whom Not

xi INTRODUCTION

ON NETS AND FISH

“The lesson is that our statements often reveal more about the language we are talking in than about the things we are talking about” (Olsson, 1974: 53).

“Not only does the nature of our terms affect the nature of our observations ... many of the ‘observations’ are but implications of the particular terminology in terms of which the observations are made” (Burke 1966: 46).

In the fall of 1985 and the spring of 1986 I had the opportunity to study in Stockholm,

Sweden. One of the most memorable days of my year there was the day I met Gunnar Olsson. I remember it well for a number of reasons, one of which was the rain.

Although November, I had set out to meet Gunnar Olsson at his office at Nordiska

Institutet fOr Samhallsplanering wearing only a light windbreaker. Brittsommar,

Swedish for Indian Summer, had lingered longer than usual. I took the subway from the

University downtown to KungtragArden, and walked along the waterfront past the Grand

HOtel and the National Museum. As I crossed the bridge from Norrmalm to

Skeppsholmen it began to rain. The rain came quickly and heavily, and I was soaked

before I made cover in the vestibule of a church. There, I tried to dry off, but it was with little success. I subsequently decided to accept my circumstance, and squished onward to meet the author of some of the most interesting work in geography.

I also remember the day well because of the scenery. Skeppsholmen is a small, well-treed island in the middle of Stockholm populated by museums, institutes, and an

old sailing vessel which now serves as a youth hostel. Olsson’s office looked south

across SirOmmen—the short water passage between Lake Mälaren and the Baltic—to the cliff of SOdermalm, and the large ferries and naval boats moored at its base. Smaller ferries, operated by the local transit authority, slid by from time to time carrying

1 2 passengers between medieval Gamla Stan, its church spires pricking the sky to the south and west, and DjurgArden, the large island park just visible to the east. It was a magnificent location, one which quickly turned conversation from the weather to the scenic glories of Stockholm.

I remember the day most, however, because of a question Olsson asked. After the weather and the scenery, our discussion settled on geography. Probing my background and interests, he asked ‘What nets do you use and what fish do you expect to catch?” It was not an unusual question. Olsson’s writing is commonly punctuated with metaphors, puns, and other word plays. The question also reflected his perspective on how ideas and facts are formed in academic inquiry. Tn 1975, Olsson published a monograph with the curious title Birds in Egg in which he examines the language of quantitative human geography. In it he argues that:

there is no sharp difference between reality and the particular language in which we conceive, discuss, and change that reality. This interdependence between reality, thought, language, and action is characteristic of both natural and artificial languages. The work which any language can do is consequently dependent on the particular categorical structures and life forms which it embodies. Thus, if two languages are radically different in these respects, then they can not do the same work. Put differently, each language tends to illuminate some

aspects of reality and leave others obfuscated or distorted ... What we usually treat as if it belonged solely to reality therefore belongs at least partly to the mode of analysis itself; the role of language is less to picture

reality than to shape it ... As a consequence, it is the particular categorical structures and the particular reasoning rules within which I frame my inquiries that determine my view of the world, the analyses I undertake of it, and the results I arrive at. (1975: 8-9) 3

Olsson was thus not inquiring after my technique and preferences as an angler. He was trying to uncover my perspective on geography, and specifically the types of ideas, literatures, and vocabularies I use, and the types of observations that arise because of them.

This thesis is an attempt to answer the question Olsson asked me on that rainy day in Stockholm. The nets, in this case, are the vocabulary of rhetorical analysis and the fish are presentations of landscape. Specifically, the thesis examines changes in presentations of landscape in promotional tourist literature over the last ninety years. My argument is that the landscape is a symbolic construction whose purpose, meaning, and importance can be unpacked through rhetorical interpretation. Over the past two decades a growing number of cultural geographers have suggested that the idea of landscape, one of the traditional themes of human geography, needs to be rethought (Wagner 1975;

Duncan 1980; Cosgrove 1984; Jackson 1989). Greater attention they argue needs to be paid both to the social practices that create landscape, and to the social relationships that they engender. I support the general direction of these changes. In particular, I believe that to understand the social relationships through which landscape is symbolically constructed that we must, as Olsson recognizes, change the language of our interpretations. I am not suggesting that cultural geographers should duplicate Olsson’s surrealistic experiments with brackets, hyphens, compounds, inventions, erasures, silences, rhymes, and puns. Even though we write in deconstructive times, basic tenets of clarity and logic still place limits on how we communicate (Gregory 1978). I want to suggest, however, that within these limits there is room to develop new perspectives on landscape. if one uses the language of traditional cultural geography, with its emphasis on the tangible and visual components of culture and their spatial patterns, then no matter 4

how symbolically charged the landscapes, one will produce, I suspect, traditional interpretations (Olsson 1974: 54).

In pursuing this objective, I draw upon the literature of rhetoric. A rhetorical perspective begins with the assumption that the function of language is to motivate

people to action. To communicate rhetorically is an act: it is “the use oflanguage as a symbolic means ofinducing cooperation in beings that by nature respond to synthols”

(Burke 1969b: 43). Rhetorical analysis focuses on the persuasive aspects of language.

It examines how word choice, symbols, syntax, imagery, form, logic, and ideas are used to appeal to an audience. From this stand-point, descriptions of landscape are better thought of as ‘presentations of kindscape”: they are strategic attempts to present landscapes in such a way that they influence the thoughts, opinions, and behaviour of people who live or perceive those landscapes. Names, monuments, architecture,

advertising, planning documents, political reports, or any other symbolic means of labeling and describing the environment are cultural invitations to readings of the ‘text’ of landscape. Thus, when considering the presentation of a landscape in a tourist guide, a rhetorical perspective focuses not just on the features that the guide highlights, but also on the way in which those features are written.

The landscapes I wish to net with rhetorical analysis are found in tourism

advertising. For reasons which I suspect are primarily non-academic, cultural geographers have not directed much scholarly attention to the place of advertising in the

modem world. There are minor studies which criticize the role of advertising in the

destruction of place through the process of standardization and commodification. There

are, however, few studies from a geographical perspective which examine the relationship between advertising and modem landscapes.’ The proliferation of

commercial advertising over the last century and a half has fundamentally reoriented the 5 nature of communication in modem societies, and with it the nature of cultural and social relationships. As one scholar notes, “The ubiquity of advertising has punctuated even geography”, both changing the spatial scale of our world and re-shaping the ways we see our environments and each other (Wicke 1988: 155). The relationship between advertising and tourism is particularly close. The emergence of tourism as a modem industry in the mid 1800s coincides with the publications of the first widely available commercial guide books and the invention of package tours. Tourism and the presentation of tourist landscapes in advertising have since moved through a number of

‘cultural cycles’. In this thesis I examine two periods—roughly 1900 to 1940 and 1975 to the present—which were and continue to be particularly important in the growth and evolution of tourism in British Columbia specifically, and westem Canada generally.

Through a rhetorical interpretation of presentations of landscapes during these periods, the thesis tries both to shed light on the relationships between advertising, tourism, and geography, and the role they have played, and continue to play, in shaping the cultural landscapes of British Columbia.

The thesis is divided into eight chapters. The first chapter both expands on the idea that landscapes are presented, and also examines the relationship of the idea of presented landscapes to other approaches within cultural geography. The chapter begins with an introduction to Burke’s concept of Dramatism. Dramatism is a method for analyzing research perspectives that focuses on the fundamental assumptions researchers make about human action and its motivation. The chapter then proceeds to describe cultural geography’s four main perspectives on landscape: traditional, humanist,

Marxist, and communicative. I argue that each of these perspectives features a different

“motivational axis”. In particular, I argue that the traditional perspective explains human behaviour, and thus landscapes, by reference to the agency of culture; the humanist to 6 the psychological or spiritual dimension; and the Marxist to contexts or elements beyond the immediate control of the actor. The perspective featured in this study assumes that human action is a product of communication. The importance of each motivational orientation for the interpretation of landscapes is also discussed.

The second chapter is both an extension of the first, and an introduction to the methodological perspective used in this study. After a short review of other methods geographers and tourism researchers have used to examine the symbolic qualities of landscapes and tourist advertising, the chapter focuses on the role that the ideas and methods of rhetoric can play in the interpretation of presentations of landscapes. Since the word rhetoric has a poor public image, the chapter begins with a history of rhetoric as a field of study. In particular, it emphasizes the differences between traditional

(Enlightenment) and recent (the “new rhetoric”) notions of rhetoric. Traditionally, rhetoric has been defined as superfluous or deceptive language—as language that is used for stylistic effect or for deliberately masking truths and realities. Most rhetoricians at present, in contrast, argue that language is inherently rhetorical, that all forms and instances of communication (including the scientific, judicial, and pedagogical use of language) are persuasive. From this perspective, the objective of rhetorical analysis is to discover how authors, speakers, and other communicants pragmatically use language to influence an audience’s beliefs, and to motivate them to certain courses of action.

Particular emphasis is placed on how rhetoric constructs audiences.The implications of this perspective on rhetoric for interpretations of landscapes are then discussed.

The third chapter presents a historical and rhetorical framework for analyzing presentations of tourist landscapes. The chapter begins with a review of the literature on tourism geography. Tourism research is a small field within geography, but one which has begun to expand and diversify in response both to the growth of the tourism 7 industry, and to the recent interest of geographers and other social scientists in the place and importance of leisure in contemporary cultures. The chapter then proposes a broad characterization of stages of tourism in western cultures, focussing in particular on the emergence and character of mass tourism in this century, and on the more recent development of alternative or postmodern forms of tourism. The discussion is eclectic, drawing from the fields of rhetoric, literature, sociology, history, anthropology, political science, and geography. In developing this discussion, I argue that stages of tourism develop as a response, in part, to the character of previous stages. Specifically, I suggest that the character (the aesthetics, rhetorics, activities, audiences, and even infrastructure) of a new stage of tourism often includes a reaction against, and perhaps even an inversion of qualities associated with a previous stage. For example, Belasco

(1979) argues convincingly that the popularity of ‘roughing it’ on the open road and in autocamps in the 1920s did not simply reflect opportunities created by the recreational use of automobiles. This new style of travel was, he suggests, a deliberate rejection of the ‘stuffy, aristocratic, and European’ character of travel at the turn-of-the-century.

Similar arguments can be made, I suggest (and subsequently try to prove in later chapters), about the rhetoric of promotional literature during different stages of tourism—that the rhetoric of one period is often a response to, or reaction against, the rhetoric of an earlier period. I argue in turn that periods of overlap or transition between periods of tourism are potentially important points of investigation insofar as they highlight salient qualities of evolving presentations of tourist landscapes. In developing these points, I argue that stages of tourism should be interpreted from a relativistic perspective. The tendency in some of the earlier research on tourism was to describe the development of the modern tourist industry as an example of the cultural decline of western society. Boorstin (1964) and Turner and Ash (1975), for example, strongly criticize mass tourists and the mass tourist industry for their destructive practices, 8

placeless landscapes, and deceitful advertising, and praise earlier ‘travellers’ for their

more leisurely and studied approach tourism. Recent research, however, suggests that

this evaluation of tourism is far too simple, that the character and impacts of modem (and

postmodern) tourism are much more varied and complex than these critics suggest.

MacCannell (1984) and Cohen (1988) argue, furthermore, that tourism researchers should focus their efforts on identifying how landscapes are socially constructed through advertising, the activities of tour guides, the design of attractions, and the interpretations

of tourists. For these researchers, terms and ideas such as ‘authentic’, ‘native’, and

‘heritage’ are rhetorical commodities that are used by promoters and tourists alike to identify landscapes and invest them with meaning.

This study takes advantage of both qualitative and quantitative techniques.

Although. the former prevail in the empirical chapters, it was felt that a systematic method was needed to provide a consistent and comparative reading of a large sample of texts.

To meet this objective a computer language analysis program was developed to ‘read’

texts for basic rhetorical qualities. This program—its structure, assumptions and problems—are the subject of Chapter four. Also presented is a preliminary analysis of the computer-generated results, including a chart of major rhetorical styles associated with the presentation of tourist landscapes during the different time periods in question.

Chapters 5, 6, and 7 are the empirical heart of the thesis. Specifically they are

concerned with the rhetorical interpretation of presentations of tQurism landscapes by the

British Columbia government over the last ninety years. Governments are among the

most important, if not collectively the mast important, authors of tourism landscapes in

contemporary culture (O’Brien 1988). This is true for not only regulated and

underdeveloped countries, but also for those with developed market economies. In

Canada, by the state’s own admission, “government involvement ... [in the] tourism 9 industry is pervasive” (Tourism Canada 1985). Collectively, the provincial and federal ministries of tourism spent almost 100 million dollars marketing their attractions in a recent year (Tourism Canada 1985: 60). British Columbia’s Ministry of Tourism is not the largest promoter of tourism in Canada, but it and its predecessors present an interesting case study for two reasons. Firstly, British Columbia was one of the first and most innovative of the provincial governments to become involved in tourism before

World War Two. Secondly its tourist industry, which for the most part in the past has been based on the ‘exploitation’ of its natural resources, has undergone significant changes in recent decades in response to the development of postmodern styles of tourism.

Chapter 5 presents the institutional context of tourist promotion in British

Columbia. The chapter traces, in particular, the evolution of the provincial government’s tourist marketing, from its initial efforts around the turn of the century, to the formation of the Government Travel Bureau in the 1930s, to its contemporary interest and influence over the development of postmodem tourism. At the turn of the century, tourist promotion in Canada was primarily in the hands of large transportation companies

(which in Western Canada meant the Canadian Pacific Railway) and municipal tourist bureaus (Hart 1983). In the 1920s and 1930s provincial governments began to play a greater role, and by the 1950s had assumed the primary responsibility for tourist marketing. I argue that changes in the market and spatial organization of tourism at this time forced federal and provincial governments to play a more prominent role in the industry, and that these changes were accompanied by changes in the presentation of tourist landscapes. The government’s recent involvement in postmodern tourism is somewhat paradoxical. State agencies (including British Columbia’s) have played a key role in promoting postmodern tourism over the last decade and a half (MacCannell 1976; 10

Cohen 1988; Lew 1988; Murphy 1990). Postmodern tourism is, however, characterized by the rejection of the mass tourist industiy (with which the state has been and still is intimately associated), and by the ‘spiritual quest’ for meaning in the ‘authentic’ and

‘natural’ landscapes of other places and times. Postmodern tourism includes cultural, heritage, educational, adventure, and ecotourism and other forms of alternative ‘travel’ that emphasize participation, education, and personal and spiritual awareness over passive entertainment and diversion (Murphy 1990).

Chapters 6 and 7 examine the rhetoric of the state’s presentations of tourist landscapes in British Columbia. Chapter 6 focuses on presentations during the 1920s and 193 Os. Specifically, it examines how the rhetoric of tourist (and immigrant) literature prepared by the province’s Bureau of Provincial Information and Government

Travel Bureau—predecessors of the Ministry of Tourism—changed in response to the decline of ‘aristocratic’ styles of travel and the rise of mass tourism during these decades

(Jalde 1985). Chapter 7, in turn, evaluates whether a postmodem rhetoric has emerged and, if it has, whether the British Columbia Ministry of Tourism has been able to adapt its rhetoric to these new presentations. I suggest beforehand that the government’s intimate association with mass tourism, and its nature as an author, prohibit it from doing so.

The last chapter ‘re-presents’ the major themes in summary form. Specifically, I try to reinforce the relationship between the initial idea of landscape as a rhetorical construction and the results of the analysis. The landscapes interpreted in this study differ substantially from those traditionally found in cultural geographic research.

Communicative landscapes do not feature physical elements (barns, fields, buildings), perceptions, or ideologies in the Marxist sense. Rather they are composed entirely of 11 rhetoric—the ways in which people try to present the environment in order to influence the actions and beliefs of others.

Notes

‘See Sack (1988) for an exception. See also Eyles (1987) and Burgess and Wood (1988) and Zunn (1990). CHAPTER 1

PERSPECTIVES ON LANDSCAPE

Landscape is one of the central ideas in cultural geography. In fact, Sauer argued in his seminal essay “The Morphology of Landscape” that landscape is the central idea of cultural geography. Landscape, he suggested, is the geographical equivalent to the historian’s notion of period or the biologist’s notion of species. Landscape is cultural geography’s “unit concept”—it is the means by which cultural geographers delimit the boundaries of research, organize data into meaningful interpretations, and compare “the peculiarly geographic association of facts” in one area, time, or culture with another

(Sauer 1967: 321). Landscape is, however, also one of cultural geography’s most complex ideas. The introduction of alternative definitions of culture and social theory have resulted in several new conceptions of landscape over the last twenty years. I will argue that there are least four distinct approaches to landscape in contemporary cultural geography: the traditional (or morphological), the humanist, the Marxist, and the communicative. These approaches are, in a sense, akin to Olsson’s metaphorical nets.

Each draws on a different set of assumptions, methods, and terminologies that influence the types of questions that are asked, and thus the types of data that are collected and categorized. Specifically, I argue that the primary difference between these major approaches is found in their theory of human action.

The purpose of this chapter is to describe the major approaches to landscape interpretation in cultural geography with respect to theories of human action, and thereby set the theoretical context for the chapters that follow. It begins with a description of

Dramatism, a method I have found useful for classifying different research approaches in terms of their basic assumptions about human motivation. The chapter proceeds to apply

12 13 the Dramatist framework to ideas of landscape in cultural geography. Special emphasis is placed on how different theories of motivation and human action have resulted in different interpretations of the role language plays in the construction and interpretation of landscapes.

Classifying Ideas of Landscape

There are probably as many ways of classifying research as there are research perspectives. Geographers have used epistemological (Harvey 1969; Harvey and Holley

1981), thematic (Wagner and Mikesell 1961), topical (Hartshorne 1939), regional

(James 1972), and historical frameworks (Johnston 1979), as well as root metaphors

(Livingstone and Harrison 1981; Barnes 1992), social theory (Gregory 1978), and theories of human action (Agnew and Duncan 1981; Norton 1987). In this chapter, I choose the latter approach because it highlights what I believe is the basic difference among the major perspectives on landscape in cultural geography: their conception of the fundamental motivation of human action. The importance of assumptions about human action is obvious in humanist and Marxist work where debates over structure and agency are important. But they are also central in traditional cultural geographic research in which such terms are seldom used. As Duncan (1985) argues, all geographers, in fact

“all types of social scientists, whether they are aware of it or not, necessarily adopt a model of human action when they engage in the explanation of social phenomena”. Even abstract discussions of gravity models, diffusion patterns, and central place hierarchies are based upon, and justified by, assumptions about what counts as rational behaviour

(OLsson 1975). All geographical research attempts to explain why people act as they do and how the sum of these actions contributes to patterns in the landscape. As such, it is important to pay attention to the motivations that geographers attribute to the subjects 14 they study. Different motivations result in different defmitions and interpretations of landscape.

There have been at least two earlier attempts to use theories of human action to interpret research in human geography. The first attempt was published by Agnew and

Duncan (1981). These geographers use theories of human action to propose a general framework for describing different “models of man” in the discipline. In particular,

Agnew and Duncan suggest that geographers should try to evaluate ideas along three dimensions: individualism and holism, freedom and determinism, and agency and structure. At present, geographic research tends to draw upon models that are holistic, structural, and deterministic. Agnew and Duncan contend, in fact, these dimensions characterize the “primary orientation” in both traditional and Marxist research in cultural geography, an interpretation that suggests that these ‘disparate’ approaches may have more in common than is normally thought. A second, although much less explicit, attempt to characterize geographic research according to its perspective on human action is found in Norton’s (1987) “Humans, Land and Landscape: A Proposal for Cultural

Geography”. Norton suggests that different approaches in cultural geography can be distinguished according to their assumptions about the relationship between humans and the environment as well as their preferred scales of analysis (culture, society, groups, individuals). Norton uses these criteria to identify the “causal variable” behind human action, be it culture, society, the environment, or some combination thereof. The resulting framework is more incisive than the one proposed by Agnew and Duncan.

Norton uses it, for instance, to identify five concepts that have influenced research in cultural geography: the superorganic notion of culture, social organism, environmental determinism, possibiism, and symbolic interactionism. Norton does not, howeyer, examine all of the approaches in cultural geography. He does not, for example, identify 15

the causal variables and units of analysis for Marxist approaches. The relative utility of his framework thus remains to be proven.

Dramatism and Kenneth Burke

Another possible framework for characterizing theories of human action is Dramatism. Dramatism is a method of rhetorical criticism that can be used for interpreting interpretations of human behaviour. It was first proposed by the influential literary critic

Kenneth Burke in A Grammar ofMotives (1969a). In that classic work, Burke ambitiously demonstrated the principles of Dramatism by using it to uncover, and classify the theories of human action implicit in the major schools of philosophy. It has subsequently been applied to a wide range of communication. It has been used, for example, to examine political speech, theatre, journalism, pulp fiction, social science research, social movements, feminism, and small group communication.’ It is now recognized as one, of the major methods of rhetorical criticism, and has even attracted the attention of deconstructionists, as well as those who are less enthusiatic about poststructural methods of literary criticism (Lentricchia 1983; Southwell 1987; Brock,

Scott and Chesebro 1990; Foss 1990). However, Dramatism has not, to my knowledge, been used in geography. As such, I will now introduce the technique, and the work of Kenneth Burke in general, before presenting a Dramatist categorization of research approaches in cultural geography.

Kenneth Burke is regarded by many as the most important rhetorician of the twentieth century.2 He has played a central role in the redefinition and reinvigoration of rhetoric as a field of study, moving it away from its earlier obsession with cataloguing the characteristics of good speech to a broader appreciation and understanding of rhetoric’s social, cultural, and political functions. Burke is fundamentally concerned with how language gets things done, with how it motivates people to action, or prepares 16

them for action through challenging, changing, or confirming their values and beliefs.

Furthermore, Burke regards all language, and all forms of communication as equally

available for rhetorical analysis. His work ranges from studies of the nature of art under

capitalism to an investigation of the central theories of the social sciences, from the forms

of literary appeal in Mein Kampfto the rhetorical qualities of The Bible. Thus much of

the current research on, for example, the rhetoric of the conservation movement, or the

debate over abortion, or the status of rhetoric in western academic culture—its role in

creating and communicating knowledge—has its origins in Burke’s work.

Burke has also made important contributions to literary criticism, media studies,

and the social sciences, particularly over the past two decades.3 Proponents suggest that

Burke’s perspective on language, and especially his critique of the rhetoric of

representation, anticipates the new cultural studies with their emphasis on ideology

formation and culture as a textual site. Lenthcchia (1983), for example, argues that

Burke’s ideas predate much of what Gramsci’s, Derrida’s, de Man’s, and Foucault’s

work have subsequently brought to light. Wayne Booth similarly suggests that

structuralists’ and poststructuralists’ “claims to originality” should be tempered in light of

his work (1979: 361). Others have looked to Burke’s ideas as an alternative to

poststructural theories. Frederic Jameson comments, for instance, “that it is not enough,

to say that Burke’s notion of the symbolic act is an anticipation ... of current notions of

the primacy of language; seen from a different angle, it allows us to probe the

insufficiencies of the latter” (1978: 5O8). Burke’s thought has been described as a

“radical corrective” and “critical antidote” to the “debilitated criticism” of the

deconstructionists, and to the “overly sanguine and admittedly bourgeois meliorism” of

Rorty’s brand of pragmatism (Gunn 1987: 75; Lentricchia 1983: l2O).6 Frank

Lentricchia argues that Burke is unlike deconstructionists in that he is not interested in

debating the truth status of claims to representation since he considers their 17 epistemological status to be ultimately unknowable. Burke is concerned with how language is used to make knowledge claims, and with how language participates in the construction of social ‘reality’. He is interested, in other words, in how people use language to prove what they ‘believe’, rather than in determining if what they believe is true.7

Social scientists have used Burke in two ways. First they have adapted Burke’s metaphor of drama, and more generally his discussions of symbols and symbolic action, to the analysis of human behaviour and communication. This line of inquiry is represented in studies by Goffman, Geertz, Garfmkel, Fearing, and, most ambitiously,

Hugh Duncan. Duncan has published a series of sociological works based on Burke’s ideas, beginning with Language and Literature in Society (1953), and followed by

Communication and Social Order (1962), Symbols in Society (1968), and Symbols and

Social Theory (1969). Of these Com,nunication and Social Order is the most important

(Cuzzort and King 1980). In this work, Duncan situates Burke’s ideas amongst those of

Mead, Park, and Burgess, arguing that Burke’s thought complements the Chicago school’s pragmatic theories of society, but also addresses critical weaknesses in their ideas about communication. Duncan argues that although the Chicago sociologists saw communication as the basis of social interaction, their image of communication as a game only leads back to the mechanical metaphors of society they sought to overcome (1962: xxii, 99-102). In Burke, Duncan locates a vision of society and social order based on drama and the rhetorical (purposeful and moral) exchange of symbols. Duncan is concerned with how symbols such as art, money, religious icons, gestures, and language are used to direct human behaviour, and what the motives behind the use of these symbols indicate about the organization of society.8 18

The second way social scientists have used Burke, and the one with which I am concerned, is to study the rhetoric of inquiry. Examples here include works by White

(1973), Bennett (1983), Gusfield (1981), and Geertz (1988). Like Olsson, Burke believes that our perceptions and actions depend on language. He contends that every field of inquiry, and every point of view is constituted, limited, and governed by a set of terms, and that these terms channel attention into some areas and not others. These

“terministic screens”, be they a set of terms from an academic discipline, a religious denomination, a political group, or a social class, provide inevitably limited and specialized views of the world; for insofar as people “seek for vocabularies that will be

faithful reflections of reality ... they must develop vocabularies that are selections of reality”, because no set of screens can be utterly comprehensive—they are by nature limited and limiting (1966: 46; 1969a: 59). Burke argues, in other words, that we only come to know ‘reality’ through the specialized languages of a discourse community, and that as a consequence “much that we take as observations about ‘reality’ may be but the spinning out of possibilities implicit in our particular choice of terms” (1966: 46).

The Pentad of Critical Terms

Burke developed Dramatism as a method for identifying and classifying terministic screens.9 Specifically, he wanted a method to work out a perspective’s “connotational logic” with respect to its underlying assumptions about human action. Dramatism helps meet this objective by providing a framework of terms for labeling the major structural components of a perspective. Dramatism is not a method for specifying the rhetorical character of a perspective at the level of a sentence—it is not concerned with the immediate means an author may use to sway an audience.1° Dramatism is a meta method. It is similar to approaches that examine the root metaphors or epistemological assumptions.’1 It is concerned with basic assumptions that guide research. 19

On the surface, Dramatism is a relatively easy method to understand. Its primary tool is a “pentad” of critical terms: act, agent, agency, purpose, and scene. These terms are used to identify the major structural components of an approach and, through noting their relationships and relative standing, to determine a perspective’s dominant term.

These terms are used, in other words, to characterize how a researcher explains a situation or event, and in particular to discover what the researcher believes is the principal cause of human action.

The meaning of Burke’s five terms is relatively straightforward. Scene is the ground, situation, or stage upon which human action takes place. Scene may, most obviously, refer to physical and temporal qualities, but it can also include contexts and settings such as a genre of communication, a mode of production, or a spiritual environment. The character of the scene depends on several factors including the scale at which an interpretation is developed. It is possible, for instance, to describe the contextual factorsthat contributed to the decision to relocate a manufacturing plant at several scales. One could focus, for example, on the immediate situation, on the specific motivations of the management team. In this case the scene would be the boardroom.

One could equally consider the general situational qualities that motivate businesses in general to relocate. This scale is the one at which neo-classical economic geographers have traditionally focussed. Rather than examine individual reasons, they focus on locational factors such as distance, labour costs, and economies of scale. One could similarly broaden the scene further to include societal processes such as “economic restructuring” or the emergence of “postindustrial society”. This scale is favoured by

Marxist geographers, and by those who want to examine economic decisions as part of a much larger drama. The scale of the scene is thus critical to the interpretation of human action, all the more so if scene is the featured term. 20

Agent is the entity that performs the act. The term can most obviously refer to individuals. But like scene, it can also be developed at a variety of scales. Collective

terms describing a social group, jnstitution, or even ‘mankind’ can function as agents of

human action. The agent can also be developed in the other direction. Many

psychologists, for instance, focus on the mind as the locus of human action while some

sociobiologists attribute the same status to genes. Behavioural geography, with its

emphasis on perception and decision making is an example of agent based research in

geography. Guellce’s idealistic approach to historical geography also features agent

terms, as evident in his interpretive principle of re-thinking the thoughts of historical agents to rediscover their motives.

Agency is perhaps the only Dramatic term that might cause confusion for cultural geographers. Burke does not use agency in its current social scientific sense to refer to the capacity for social change on the part of individuals (Jackson 1989). Instead, Burke uses agency in itsinstrumental sense to denote the means by which action is performed.’2 Television, texts, railroads, tools, and fire are obvious agencies of human

action. The term can also refer to ideologies, rhetorical strategies, and institutions. A

state agency, for instance, is an institution that regulates, facilitates, or hinders human

action. Marshall McLuhan’s work is a clear example of an agency perspective.

McLuhan, drawing on but substantially revising the ideas of Harold Innis, argued that electronic means of communication are transforming modem society and the spatial

organization of the world. McLuhan’s dictum that the “Medium is the message”, and his

vision of the world as a global village are products of this emphasis. Meyorwitz’s more recent interpretations of the electronic media, and how they have transformed social

(agent) relationships, and the relationships between people and places in recent decades

is another example of an agency perspective. Meyorwitz argues, in particular, that the

modem media are reducing our sense of place. For instance, he suggests that the almost 21 instantaneous and ubiquitous media of television and radio have extended our knowledge of distant places, yet reduced our contact with the immediate physical and social environments in which we live and work. Not surprisingly, Meyorwitz draws from both McLuhan and Innis.

Purpose is the objective of action. It is the goal to which the motive of human action leads. It may also refer to the reason given by an agent (although the researcher may place the “actual” motivation elsewhere) for choosing a particular course of action.

Interpretations that emphasize spiritual, religious, and moral terms often feature purpose.

Purpose-oriented perspectives are thus more prevalent in the humanities than in geography. One of the few geographers to emphasize purpose is Yi-fu Tuan, although I will argue shortly his work is best categorized as an agent perspective. Tuan’s emphasis on purpose is evident in his attempts to uncover the universal qualities that influence the human orientation to space and place: the association of the directions of up and north with heaven and the good, the relationship between sense and perception, the design of urban environments, and the quality of being “rooted” in a place (Tuan 1974). Clarence

Glacken might also qualify as a purpose-oriented cultural geographer. His monumental work Traces on the Rhodian Shore opens with a speculation that “What is most striking in conceptions of nature, even mythological ones, is the yearning for purpose and order”, a yearning that seeks to explain the apparent “order and purposiveness in many outward manifestations of human activity” in the landscape. Glacken goes on to propose that the history of western thought about purpose and order has taken three general forms: the idea that the earth is a spiritually designed abode, that human cultures are a product of nature (its climates, topography, biota), and that humans are “geographic agents”. Each of these perspectives is in turn examples of different Dramatic equations. The first features purpose, the second scene, and the third agent. 22 The fifth term, act, is the most important component of the pentad from Burke’s

perspective. Burke argues that act is the term around which the other terms are arrayed.

It is the element that all social science research focuses on: the behaviour of human beings. Burke suggests, however, that acts, such as communiction, are also the most

difficult components of human behaviour to analyze. Acts are fluid and ephemeral.

They lack the materiality of the scenes, agents, and agencies that contain, embody, and

facilitate communication. Even purpose, as a visible goal, has more substance than

action. As a result, the tendency in the social sciences is to to locate the motivation of human action in something other than the action itself. This tendency is evident in

cultural geography in Silk’s (1984) Marxist approach to literature. Silk argues that literature can influence cultural attitudes and actions, but in explaining how it does, he primarily emphasizes the scenic (contextual) factors that control the production and consumption of literature. He pays less attention to the rhetorical strategies authors use

to sway opinion. In part, the difficulty of developing act-based interpretations is methodological. While communication is a fluid action, we normally have access only to

its fossilized remnants.’3 The challenge for a methodology is to breathe life into these remnants—to evaluate the original meaning and effect of communication. I argue in the next chapter that some of the best methods for meeting this challenge are found in the field of rhetoric. Rhetorical methods are concerned with the practical use of language.

Novels, advertisements, or work of arts are not static objects. From a rhetorical

perspective, they are first and foremost acts of communication.

Armed with these terms, the objective of Dramatism is to identify the structural

components of an interpretive perspective and in particular its dominant term. Burke

uses the pentad, for example, to identify the major assumptions about the motivation of

human behaviour in each of the major schools of philosophy. This analysis results in

some interesting observations. Dramatism tends to slice through disciplines in new and 23 unexpected ways by drawing together diverse approaches while separating others.

Burke, for instance, groups Hobbes and Spinoza together with Marx and Darwin on the basis that they all feature ‘scenic’ explanations of human behaviour: explanations grounded in the materiality of “rational necessity”, social conditions, or biology. On the other hand, Burke separates idealism from pragmatism. It is common, at least in human geography, to group these approaches under the banner of humanism, and thus to emphasize their common differences with logical positivism. Burke suggests, however, that there are significant differences between idealism (including its phenomenological and existential varieties) and pragmatism in terms of their interpretation of human behaviour. Idealism, Burke argues, tends to locate the motivation of action within the agent’s character. Pragmatism, on the other hand, features agency as its critical term.

Philosophers and social scientists featuring this term emphasize the means through which human action is accomplished.

Another example that ifiustrates the application of Dramatism is Gusfield’s (1981) analysis of a seminal paper on drinking-driver research. Gusfield uses the pentad to chart how a medical researcher in the early 1970s tried to reorient research in the field

(1981: 96). At the time, most research focussed on the act of drunk-driving. The researcher, in contrast, argued that emphasis should be placed on the agent (the drunk driver), and that public policy should be brought into line with this new perspective. In particular, the researcher argued that attempts to reduce drunken driving should focus on prosecution and therapy (for the driver) rather than on deterrence (of the act). The shift in perspective also allowed the researcher, Gusfield suggests, to distinguish between acts of drunk driving (criminal and ‘unfortunate’) according to the character of the agent.

Specifically, the researcher argued that drunken drivers can be broken into two groups— the problem drinker and the social drinker—and that the latter is dominant. Social drinkers are “figures of stability” whose statuses are compromised by the scenes (parties, 24 night clubs) and activities in which they are temporarily involved. In contrast, problem drinkers are described as ‘pathological’ and marginal, a characterization re-enforced by the author’s claim that problem drinking drivers are on average people from the lowest categories of the social hierarchy: Blacks, Native Americans, Mexicans, the poor, and the least educated. 14 Gusfield goes on to suggest that the researcher used his

“personalization” of drunk driving to legitimize “the racial and class divisions in

American society, effectively exonerating the middle class social drinker and characterizing minorities and the underclasses as ‘morally suspect”.

Applying the Pentad

Dramatism is interpretive rather than mechanical. It relies on the researcher’s skill and patience for identifying clusters of terms and their relationships. Burke does, nevertheless, provide a number of suggestions and pointers for its use. He suggests, for instance, that critics should pay close attention to the frequency and transformation of key terms. The relationships between the terms of the pentad are similar to the relationships between the theme and phoros of a metaphor. Like the phoros, the featured term in an interpretation transforms, and lends new meaning to the secondary terms. The importance of the featured term in these relationships does not mean that the secondary terms of an interpretation cannot be used to account for human behaviour. Secondary terms can ‘house’ motives, but those motives are necessarily considered derivatives of, or subservient to, the featured motive of human behaviour.

For instance, a reduction of motivation to one essential motive such as ‘love of power’ would require one [if that motive were to be applied widely and faithfully] to show that there is nothing but a ‘power situation’ observable in the human scene. The usual procedure, however, is to acknowledge the existence of other motives, but to treat them as in some way derivative, accidental, or unsubstantial. (Burke 1969a: 102) 25

The featured term is thus said to symbolize, or have entailments for, the secondary terms. For example, Gusfield’ s argues that the attempt to redefine the act of drunk driving in terms of the agent might have had significant implications for what counted as drunk driving, the intent (purpose) of the driver (malicious or inadvertent), and the quality of the scene (criminal or social).

A second suggestion Burke offers is to watch for terms that are used outside of their ‘normal’ range. It is not uncommon, for example, to come across agent or agency terms that are used under the “sign” of another Dramatic term. The expression ‘mode of production’, for instance, is an agency term in its ‘pure’ form—it refers to the means of fabrication. However, the expression is normally used as a scenic term in Marxist research to characterize a historical period and set of social relations. In such cases the dominant term not only colours a perspective’s secondary terms—it literally captures them for its own use.

A third suggestion Burke provides is to carefully examine terms that are arranged in temporal or spatial sequence, or hierarchy. Maslow’ s hierarchy of psychological motives is a good example as are Marx’s stages of society. Burke suggests that the origin, conclusion, or axis along which these sequences are developed are usually substantial clues to the featured term. Maslow’ s hierarchy, for instance, begins and ends with agent terms for motivation (primary needs and self-actualization), while Marx’s analysis progresses through different social and economic scenes of production.

Qualifying Remarks

While the definitions of Dramatism’ s critical terms are relatively straightforward, the method is based on a complex set of assumptions about the nature and primacy of language, the character of human action, the metaphorical basis of interpretation, and the 26 rhetorical use of language. In fact, several of Burke’s students have suggested that his ideas must be understood as a whole, that it is impossible to pick and choose between them (Lenthcchia 1983; Heath 1986). There is not room in this chapter, however, to explicate the corpus of Burke’s ideas and methods.15 Nevertheless, three qualities of

Dramatism deserve mention at this point. First, it is important to recognize that Burke does not offer the pentad as an essential framework. In fact, he argues that the framework is not grounded in a physical or textual reality. Burke makes this claim despite his obvious reliance on drama as an interpretive framework. Burke favours dramatic terms because he believes that drama provides the best model for interpreting human behaviour.16 However, Burke does not mean that life is like drama in the sense that people are actors playing roles upon a stage. Rather, he argues that drama is like life in that both are interpretive activities (Hart 1990).’ Burke thus describes the pentadic terms as rules-of-thumb, as convenient labels for describing an interpretation’s various components. Burke also suggests that the pentadic terms are necessarily ambiguous in the sense that they can be used at a variety of scales, associated with a wide range of phenomena, and undergo changes through their associations with other terms. In developing his Dramatistic framework, Burke argues, in a much quoted passage, that interpretative frameworks require “not terms that avoid ambiguity, but terms that clearly reveal the strategic spots at which ambiguities necessarily arise” (Burke 1969a: xvi, xviii). Burke considers all interpretations, including his own, ‘necessarily’ ambiguous—incomplete, ungrounded, subject to reinterpretation, and inconsistencies— on the grounds that all interpretations depend on language, and as such only provide a perspective, and not a handle on the world (Burke 1973: 105; Overington 1977: 141;

Fogarty 1968: 62). He argues: “Since no two things or acts or situations are exactly alike, you cannot apply the same term to both of them without thereby introducing a certain margin of ambiguity, an ambiguity as great as the difference between the two 27 subjects that are given the identical title” (1969a: xix). Burke consequently argues that we should distrust the ‘perfect’ (‘simple’, ‘pure’) metaphor: “In any term we can posit a world, in the sense that we can treat the world in terms of it”; however, “when we confront a simplicity we must forthwith ask ourselves what complexities are subsumed beneath it. For a simplicity of motive would admonish us that it cannot prevail in the

‘imperfect world’ of everyday experience. It can exist not actually, but only ‘in principle,’ ‘substantially” (1969a: 105).

A second quality that deserves re-statement is that Dramatism only applies to interpretations of human motivation. Dramatism is not a theory of motivation—it says nothing about the actual motivation of human action. Burke argues, in fact, that the essential, or original motivation of an action is ultimately unknowable since all assessments are themselves interpretations—interpretations that can access the world only through the medium of language.

The third quality of Dramatism is its assumption that all interpretations are perspectives—they all promote a particular view of ‘reality’. This principle suggests that it is impossible to develop an objective or pluralistic interpretation of human events, or to sidestep, as Foucault has tried, the issue of interpretation (the intrusion of the author into the material, the author’s creation and domination of subjects) altogether (White 1987).

From a Dramatist perspective, all such attempts, be they the structuration theorist’s search for a middle ground between scene (structure) and agent (agency) in agency

(ideology), or the cultural anthropologist’s attempt to create multiple perspectives by letting subjects speak for themselves, ultimately fail—not in the sense that they fail to provide interesting or adequate interpretations—but rather in the sense that the search for neutral or pluralist ground will always privilege one perspective more than others. 28

lnterpretations cannot avoid taking a perspective since language, as a classificatory

system, inevitably selects some elements of reality and hides others.

Perspectives on Landscape

A full Dramatist interpretation of research in cultural geography would constitute a major study in itself. The following, in contrast, is offered only as a sketch of the major

contours of contemporary perspectives on landscape. I neither identify all of the

perspectives on landscape nor explore in any depth how approaches have evolved or

could evolve by ‘taking advantage’ of the ambiguity of key terms. Major themes besides landscape in cultural geography—region, history, diffusion—are also not addressed. To

facilitate the discussion I have summarized the four major approaches in contemporary

cultural geography in tabular form (Table 1.1). The table identifies the equivalent term(s)

for each Dramatic component for each of the major approaches: traditional, humanist,

Marxist, and communicative. The featured term (the origin of human action) for each

approach is shown in capitals. For example, culture functioning as an agency of human

action is the featured term of traditional research. It should also be pointed out that the

terms appearing under the “scenic” heading are equivalent expressions for landscape.

Landscape, like all of geography’s key terms—region, area, location, space, place, land, environment, site, situation, and genre de vie—is a scenic term. All of these terms

designate settings in which agents act. In this regard, the scenic terms for the Marxist

and communicative approaches may initially cause some confusion since neither refer explicitly to physical places. Temporal categories (period, era, stage, age, generation, reign, lifetime) are also sëenic terms, and their inclusion in the Marxist Dramatic equation

indicates the emphasis that this approach places on historical context in the interpretation

of landscapes. Landscapes, in other words, are seen as expressions of a historical stage

of capitalist society from the Marxist perspective. Styles and genres are also scenic terms Table 1.1

Dramatist Chart Perspectives on Landscape in Cultural Geography

. Scene Agency Act Agent Purpose

Traditional environment? CULTURE way of life bearers adapt/modify

physical record of culture environment

Humanist lifeworid? values sense? INDiVIDUALS moral?

place experience unintentional

Marxist HISTORICAL ideologies power classes control

PERIODS class struggle

Communicative presentation symbols? COMMUNICATION authors? persuasion?

styles/genres texts institutions motivation

t’) 30 in that they refer to generalized contexts of communication. Their inclusion recognizes

the communicative approach’s assumption that landscapes are first and foremost

symbolic constructions—that the physical landscape only has meaning through the textual lenses through which it is presented and interpreted. Before interpreting the table further, I must emphasize that the Dramatic terms are highly generalized, that they do not

pretend to describe all of the variations possible within an approach. The following

sections work through the table, briefly describing the background of each approach, its

dominant term, and several examples that illustrate how the perspective’s Dramatistic

orientation affects its assumptions about the relationship between language and landscape.

Traditional

The traditional approach, as its name suggests, is the oldest in Anglo-American cultural

geography. It is also one of the largest and most diverse in terms of topics. Yet, it is

intimately associated with a single school of thought, the Berkeley school of Geography

named in honour of Carl Sauer, its founder and for over forty years one of the

discipline’s most influential teachers and researchers. The traditional approach is noted

for its emphasis on material culture, studies of agriculture, cultural diffusion, and

landscape in rural and premodem areas, and a preference for field research over

theoretical debates. An important entry point in traditional research is how the cultural

landscape diverges from the purely physical elements of the environment. Changes in

the ‘natural’ landscape hint at how cultures adapt to the opportunities and constraints of

the physical environment, and inversely how cultural practices modify those same

environments. This focus is reflected in how traditional geographers define landscape.

According to Wagner and Mikesell (1961), landscape is the “geographic content of a 31 determined area ... in which the choices made and changes worked by men18 as members of some cultural community are manifest”.

The dominant term in traditional cultural geography is culture (Table 1.1). In principle, culture is an agent term—it refers to human actors although at a much broader scale than most agent terms (mind, individual, group, institution, nation, society).

However, in traditional research, culture functions not as an agent but as an agency of human action. Culture is seen as an established system of practices, skills, and beliefs that guides the actions of individual agents.19 This perspective is clearest in Zelinsky’s

(1973) discussion of culture in his well known monograph on the cultural geography of the United States. Zelinsky describes culture as “a code or template for ideas and acts”,

as “a very large, complex assemblage of items, which ... may be as important a variable as any in explaining the behavior of individuals or societies or the mappable patterns of activities and man-made objects upon the face of the earth” (1973: 68, emphasis added).

Zelinsky argues, in fact, that culture has its own status as a living entity—it is something within but beyond the minds of individuals—it is a “superorganic entity living and

changing according to a still obscure set of internal laws, ... [that] Although individual

minds are needed to sustain it, ... culture also lives on its own, quite apart from the single person or his volition, as a sort of ‘macro-idea,’ a shared abstraction with a special mode of existence and set of rules” (Zelinsky 1973: 71). Although few others have stated their definitions this strongly, the general thrust of this view has caused traditional cultural geographers to interpret landscape as a setting for patterns of life, and consequently down play its role as a context for the specific actions of interacting individuals. The landscape is a surface on which the die of culture leaves a record of housing design, agricultural practices, and religious beliefs. The traditional geographer’s task is to catalogue the resulting impressions, and on this basis to identify the distribution and impact of cultural groups on the physical environment. The agency orientation of 32

traditional research is manifest in studies of house types, barn construction, and cultural

ecology. Sauer’s work exemplifies in particular the latter theme. He was interested in

how agricultural practices, the use of fire, and the ‘technological innovations’ of colonial

invaders, for example, transformed the land. “Man”, he argued, was one of the most

important agencies of environmental modification (Sauer 1956; 1967: 3 15-350).

Several explanations of the origins of the traditional view of landscape have been

offered. Most notably, Duncan (1980) argues that the traditional view of culture entered

geography through Sauer’s interaction with anthropologists at Berkeley. Specifically

Duncan points to Alfred Kroeber’s “superorganic” view of culture. According to

Kroeber, social reality consists of several connected but irreducible levels. Culture

occupies the top level and, as such, determines the character and events of levels below

it. Individuals populate the lowest level. In this formulation individuals are given little

opportunity to make their own decisions. In Duncan’s words, “One need not be

concerned with the individual ... because the individual is the mere agent of cultural

forces. He is a messenger carrying information across the generations and from place to place” (1980: 184, emphasis added).

Although Duncan’s interpretation has received support, other cultural

geographers have played down the anthropological explanation and have instead argued that Sauer developed his perspective primarily as a alternative to environmental

determinism (Williams 1983; Price and Lewis 1993). Sauer had studied under

environmental determinists as a graduate student at the University of Chicago between

1910 and 1915. By 1925, however, Sauer had largely rejected the arguments of

Semple, Huntington, and Ratzel that human physiology and cultural practices (including religious beliefs and language) could be explained with reference to environmental

influences. In “The Morphology of Landscape”, Sauer attacked the search for 33 “influences” as “mechanistic”, as a “dogma” and an “exposition of faith [that] proceed[s]

only by finding testimonials to its efficacy” (1963: 347). Sauer was also concerned that

environmental determinism was leading geography away from its traditional subject

matter. Environmental determinism (a scenic approach) threatened, he felt, “to make

geography a part of biophysics, [more] concerned with human tropisms” than with human activity (1963: 348).

This reading provides a more plausible explanation for Sauer’s theoretical stance.

It does not, however, identify the source of his ideas on landscape and culture. Recent

commentators have steered away from this issue. Price and Lewis argue that Sauer

actually devoted little effort to defining culture or landscape, and in fact felt that such an

exercise would lead to “mindless reductionism” (1993: 11). This belief was not unique

in traditional cultural geography. Wagner and Milcesell (1962: 5) and Zelinsky (1973:

7 1-2) also argue in their programmatic statements that geographers are not concerned

with the specific qualities of culture. Wagner and Mikesell write:

The cultural geographer is not concerned with explaining the inner workings of culture or with describing fully patterns of human behavior, even when they affect the land, but rather with assessing the technical potential [an agency expression]of human communities for using and modifying their habitats. (1962: 5, emphasis added)

Theoretical debates were not the forte of traditional cultural geographers, but I disagree

with Price and Lewis that the absence of such discussions means that these geographers did not hold a particular conception of human action (as described by Duncan). In fact, I would argue that the tendency to defme culture as an amorphous entity that nevertheless influences behaviour is characteristic of an (agency) perspective that has borrowed its key term from another Dramatist sphere (agent). 34

The origins of traditional cultural geography’s perspective on landscape are found in physical geography. I base this claim on Sauer’s analogy between the interpretive

‘equations’ of geomorphology and cultural geography in his “The Morphology of

Landscape”. Sauer begins this seminal essay by diagramming the genesis of the natural landscape. The natural landscape, he suggests, is a product of natural factors (climatic, tectonic, vegetative) working over time to create forms (climate, drainage patterns, vegetation) which in combination constitute a landscape. Sauer then translates this equation into cultural geography. He accomplishes this translation by replacing natural factors with culture, and by introducing the natural landscape as the (initial) setting.

Accordingly, the cultural landscape is presented as the product of culture working over time on a natural setting to create cultural forms (housing, production, population) which in combination constitute a landscape. Or in Sauer’s words: “Culture is the agent, the natural area the medium, the cultural landscape the result” (Sauer 1967: 343). Sauer is correct, I feel, to refer to culture as an agent in this and other statements he subsequently made (“Man must be regarded directly as a geomorphic agent”).2° However, from a

Dramatistic perspective, culture is better viewed as an agency since it is the “shaping force”, “causation”, and generally the means through which individual activity is directed. Alcin to the geomorphologist’s natural factors, culture is an abstract entity—it cannot shape the landscape itself, but only provides a guide for human agents. Pursuing this logic to its fullest extent, Sauer argues that “In the proper sense all geography is physical geography ... because man, himself not directly the object of geographic investigation, has given physical expression to the area by habitations, workshops, markets, fields, lines of communication”.21

Traditional cultural geographers have paid little attention to language. Wagner and Mikesdll do grant a central importance to language—in fact, they formally defme culture as “an outcome of the ability of human beings to communicate among themselves 35 through symbols” and readily acknowledge that its role in ascribing meanings “guides

actions ... and results thereby in such concrete expressions as systems of belief, social institutions, and material possession” (Wagner and Mikesell 1962: 2, 3). However, they also believe that language is tangential to research in geography. They note that

“For the purposes of geography, habitual individual behavior and that controlled by institutions are of greater significance than linguistic systems, ideologies, or social institutions in themselves” (Wagner and Mikesell 1962: 4). As a consequence, most traditional studies of language have focussed on its mappable qualities: the distribution of languages and dialects, and toponyms. Some practitioners have ventured beyond this narrow sphere but the results are essentially the same. Salter and Lloyd (1977), for instance, propose that literature can be a valuable source for interpreting landscapes by providing clues to its “signatures”.22 Generally, a signature is a unique mark that identifies a specific pattern of human expression. But more specifically a signature can be a “distinctive image created by an individual or a group in the act of modifying the landscape”; or it can be an author’s characteristic imagery. Salter and Lloyd suggest that the signatures of authors or groups can be used to help identify those of landscapes. This approach is logically sound but overly simplistic. It tends to result in the “mining” of literature for geographic references or in what Thrift (1978) has sarcastically called

“stamp-collecting”. Little sensitivity is displayed to literature’s broader functions or contexts or even to the role of literature in conditioning human perception.

Humanist

Humanist approaches became influential in the 1960s and 1970s as an alternative to behaviourism. In contrast to their scientifically inclined counterparts, humanists promoted a more reflective and subject-centred geography (Ley and Samuels 1978).

Geography, they argued, should try to describe people’s experiences rather than to 36 discover the immutable laws that some behavioural geographers believed governs human

action. A humanistic geography is attentive to the intentionality and morality of

individual actions, and to the valued character of places and routines, no matter how

small or taken-for-granted (Tuan 1974; Ley and Samuels 1978).

Humanist geographers approach landscape as a perceived or sensed environment.

Geographers such as Tuan, Reiph, and Seamon, are concerned with how people relate

psychologically and spiritually to the places in which they live. They argue that the

landscape is a function of people’s attitudes and values—that values filter the experience

of landscape and that landscape, in turn, influences how people behave. From this

perspective, landscapes are subjective places of identity and community (Tuan 1974;

Relph 1976). Landscapes are said, depending upon their character, to possess either a

sense-of-place, or placelessness. The humanist perspective on landscape thus contrasts

strongly with the traditional agency-based perspective. Humanists focus on the agent as the primary source of human motivation (Table 1.1). This emphasis is apparent in the

prominence of terms and phrases such as consciousness, spirit, expression, meaning,

personal experience, perception, values, the self, and the subject For humanists the

landscape is a ‘lifeworld’ rather than a material artifact, a realm of lived places rather than

abstract spaces. Tuan’s and Reiph’s work illustrates this well. Tuan (1974) describes landscapes as “dramatis[ing] the aspirations, needs, and functional rhythms of human beings.” He has written on the significance of home and neighbourhoods as centres of

meaning, on landscapes of pleasure and fear, and on how humans structure and relate to

landscape in terms of their physiology. Relph (1976) similarly interprets landscapes as

extensions of the people who dwell within them. He believes that authentic landscapes

should personify the values and behaviours of their inhabitants. Relph and Tuan,

therefore, are not concerned so much with how a culture has adapted to its environment,

but with how people relate mentally and spiritually to their lifeworid. The task for the 37 humanist geographer is to elicit and describe these relations between people and landscape.

Humanist geographers are in agreement that the moral (intentional) individual should be the focus of a truly human geography. They have, however, developed a variety of approaches for interpreting human behaviour. These approaches differ primarily in terms of the scale at which they address individuals (Table 1.2). David

Lowenthal, for instance, tends to take a behavioural approach, examining individual experiences in terms of broader societal patterns of behaviour. This orientation reflects

Lowenthal’s initial reliance on environmental psychology. In his “Geography, experience, and imagination: towards a geographic epistemology”, Lowenthal argues that landscapes are perceptual constructs that acquire form and meaning in light of an individual’s experiences and values. Landscapes are thus subjective and even private constructs—”we are all Alices in our own wonderlands” Lowenthal suggests. However, he also argues that,

However multifarious its makeup, there is general agreement about the character of the world and the way it is ordered. Explanations of particular phenomena differ from one person to another, but without basic concurrence as to the nature of things, there would be neither science nor common sense, agreement nor argument The most extreme heretic cannot reject the essence of the prevailing view. (1961: 242)

Lowenthal thus attributes common perceptions of landscape to shared experiences and world views, and to the practical necessity of getting along in the world.

Yi-Fu Tuan, in contrast, favours a transcendentalist approach, emphasizing the aesthetic and spiritual interpretations of humans’ universal experience of landscape.

Specifically, Tuan is interested in the bond between people and their environments. He variously proposes that cultural groups (and even humans in general) display consistent Table 1.2

Comparison of Agent and Purpose Terms in Humanist Cultural Geography

Agent Purpose Influences Landscape

Lowenthal generalized biological environmental psychology perceptual

Tuan universal transcendental structuralism place

Samuels personal moral philosophies of meaning biography

00 39

orientations and attachments to landscape that are based on their common physiology and

experiences. He has tried to explain, for example, why human cultures orientate

themselves similarly in space (cardinal directions), the relative absence of visual order in medieval towns, and the character of ‘rootedness’ (unselfconscious attachment to place) in a landscape (Tuan 1974; 1977). Tuan has also been one of the most active proponents

of literature as a way of gaining access to taken-for-granted landscapes (Tuan 1976b; 1978). Literature he suggests can reveal aspects of reality unavailable through more scientific modes of representation: “The purpose of literature is to present concrete experience (including the kind we have every day) and, in so doing, give us an experience of the concrete” (1978: 196). Literature thus provides more than a window on the world—skilled authors actually enable us to re-experience the experience of others, to relive their perceptions, values, attitudes, and decisions. Although Tuan

offered no extended examples himself, and although his perspective on literature has been thoroughly criticized for ignoring literature’s communicative and social functions

(Silk 1984), his arguments generated considerable interest in literature and landscape. In fact, humanist work still accounts for the bulk of research on this topic (Pocock 1981;

Mallory and Simpson-Housley 1987). The humanist approach to language as manifest in this research will be discussed in greater detail in the next section, and at the start of Chapter Two.

A third approach to humanist research is found in the work of Marwyn Samuels.

Like Tuan and Lowenthal, Samuels calls for a humanistic geography that is sensitive to

the values and morals ofindividuals. Samuels develops his ideas, however, at a smaller

scale. Rather than the transcendental or the aggregate, SamueLs argues that research should focus on the actions of actual people, and how those actions are preserved in the landscape. In particular, Samuels proposes that geographers should examine how a 40 person’s life history is transcribed in the landscape. By examining this material biography of a person’s action, we can engage subjects on their own terms, in their own contexts (1979: 65). Samuels’ approach is thus the most concrete amongst humanists discussed. It suggests that real moral choices can be understood—perhaps even relived—through careful landscape interpretation. Yet his approach is also the most limited. Principally the biography of landscape is only appropriate for studying people who have the power and means to transform their environments (planners, developers, the affluent, the politically powerful). The biographies of most are illegible though.

While the landscape may provide a context for behaviour, it is a poor medium for recording individual choices made by the ‘masses’.

Marxist

Like humanism, Marxism first became a force in human geography in the 1970s. And also like humanism, it arose partially in response to the scientism of behavioural research. Marxist geographers such as Harvey, Peet, and Soja, wanted an approach that took account of the unequal relationships among social classes. Marxist geographers do not, however, attack just behavioural research. They are also critical of humanist work, arguing that it too fails to address fully issues of power and control. Cosgrove (1984), in particular, takes the humanist perspective on landscape to task. He argues that the humanist emphasis on individuals and their ‘internal’ relationship with landscape overlooks what is really significant: the external relationships between social groups and how these relationships are mediated through the landscape. The landscape, he argues, is really a means of social control. It is a way of seeing and organizing the environment that privileges some groups and constrains others.

From the Marxist perspective, landscape is thus first and foremost an ideological construction. In fact, Cosgrove (1985), supported by Jackson (1989) and Daniels 41 (1981), has proposed that landscape refers not so much to the features of the environment but to historically grounded ideas that influence how people perceive and appropriate the world about them. In particular, Cosgrove argues that the idea of landscape is intimately tied to the structures and practices of capitalist societies. The idea of landscape first emerged, he believes, during the Renaissance as a unique way of seeing and organizing the environment. It is intimately associated with, and manifest in, the practices of navigation, surveying, landscape gardening, the landscape arts, and philosophies of individualism. These techniques and ideas, he argues, transformed the environment into a controlled, partitioned, and owned commodity—in short, into property. Cosgrove goes on to suggest that the idea of landscape is fully implicated in the development of class society. Consequently, Marxist geographers call for ‘radical’ interpretations that lay bare the ‘material’ character of landscape, and its role in creating and perpetuating inequalities in capitalist societies.

In presenting these arguments, Marxist geographers clearly feature the scene

(context) as the motivational source of human action. Landscape, as an ideological agency, may immediately condition class relationships. However, its character and the purposes (control) for which it is (consciously or unconsciously) employed are determined by landscape’s relationship with capitalism. In developing this position,

Cosgrove (like most Marxist cultural geographers) does not support extreme materialist interpretations that reduce agents and their actions to a few economic motives. Instead,

Marxist cultural geographers look to Raymond Williams or E.P. Thompson rather than to Aithusser or even David Harvey for ideas. This orientation also reflects, I believe, the close associations these geographers have with humanist and communicative approaches.

For instance, in his materialist interpretation of the origins of the landscape idea,

Cosgrove refuses to abandon the humanist emphasis on the agent, defining landscape as the “external world mediated through subjective human experience in a way that neither 42 region nor area immediately suggest” (1985: 13).23 Marxist cultural geographers have also been at the forefront of experiments with new methods for interpreting landscape as a mode of communication (Cosgrove and Daniels 1988). Still they are careful to point out the differences between their approaches and those of humanist and communicative geographers. For instance, Cosgrove and Jackson allow that communicative geographers’ “textual and theatrical analogies are valuable in that they preserve the sense of human action, creativity and the layering of meaning in ways that other popular geographical analogies like system, organism and structure do not”, but they also suggest that “they can be limiting insofar as landscape is the history of a way of seeing or, better, of representation” (1987: 97). Marxist geographers thus want to address the subjective meaning or communicative qualities of landscape with direct reference to its historical character. Or, put differently, they believe that the historical character of capitalist society primarily conditions the meanings landscape can communicate.

An examlile that ifiusirates the differences between a Marxist and humanist approach to language is John Silk’s (1984) “Beyond Geography and Literature”. Silk agrees with humanists that literature provides “access to the ‘taken-for-granted worlds’ of social individuals” but he goes on to argue that humanist studies seldom “venture beyond the experiential” to examine the real worlds in which literature is produced and consumed (1984: 152). Yet it is only in reference to economic, political, and social contexts, Silk believes, that literature can be understood (1984: 169, 171). It is important, he argues, to analyze “the production and sale of works of fiction as part of commodity production” including the “activities of owners and editors of publishing companies, writers, actual or potential readerships, technological factors, and government policies affecting printing and distribution” (1984: 171). In presenting this argument, Silk rejects the extreme view that authors and audiences are passive conduits of a historical context. Authors and audiences, he acknowledges, actively shape the 43 contexts in which they work and live. Nevertheless, historical context is key to the approach Silk advocates. Research in the geography of literature must begin, constantly refer to, and end, with context since the goal of “materialist analysis” is to “provide a basis for intervention in the process of the ‘mental appropriation of the world” in order to combat “bourgeois ideology” (1984: 151). Silk and Silk (1985) demonstrate this contextualist perspective in a study of southern American literature published just after the Civil War. The authors document how northern publishing houses played a major role in determining the content of southern works: With no outlets of their own, southern authors had to accommodate the preferred patriotic themes of the northern publishers. This censorship also influenced southern audiences since they too were dependent on the north for reading material. As a result, Silk and Silk argue, the fabrication of the south as a regional culture in literature at this time owes as much to northern perceptions as it does to the insight of southern authors.

The conclusion reached by Silk and Silk provides a strong argument for why humanist geographers should be more careful in their use of literature. It also helps to support Silk’s position against formalist and structural readings of literature. Both these approaches tend to celebrate the text exclusively. The New Critics of the 1930s and

1940s, for instance, tended to see literature as autonomous, “as a complex structure virtually independent of any social, historical, or philosophical background” (Silk 1984:

156). In their desire to provide ‘close readings’ of a text’s aesthetic qualities, New

Critics virtually ignored its communicative functions, and thus its relation to the events of the day. However, in opposing this interpretive stance, Silk and Silk commit the opposite error. Their interpretations contain few detailed analyses of how texts actually function—that is, how the language within them actually gets its work done. In fact, in many ways the texts are actually irrelevant to their analysis. What counts from their perspective is how a text functions as a commodity—not as a mode of communication. 44

Silk’s interpretive stance is common in Marxist studies of literature as well as in

other forms of communication. This approach is not, however, the only direction in

which a materialist study of communication could develop. An excellent example of

what could be accomplished, although one which does not specifically address the theme

of landscape but which appropriately addresses many of the same themes as Silk and

Silk, is Steven Mailloux’s (1989) analysis of Huckleberry Finn. In this work, Mailloux

uses the ideas of Kenneth Burke in conjunction with those of other contemporary

theorists to examine “the cultural conversation in and around Twain’s novel, paying

particular attention to the ideological rhetoric of the text and the way its arguments relate

both to political quarrels of the 1880s and to academic discussions in the twentieth

century” (1989: 59). Mailloux argues that Huckleberry Finn can be read as an

“ideological performance” that thes to chart the “social map of the ‘Negro Problem” and to dismantle “racist hierarchies” in the American public’s collective conscience. Like

Silk, Mailloux believes that literature is a product of, and commentary on, its ideological context. But he also argues that the success of this ideological performance relies on

Twain’s ability, to communicate these maps and hierarchies in a rhetoric appropriate to

his readers, and on the reader’s ability to see through the racist rhetoric Twain parodies,

“especially their ability to identify the dubious authorities to which the arguments appeal:

superstition, dichëd romanticism, institutionalized morality, and, ultimately, racist

ideology” (1989: 62). The text from this stand-point is both a vehicle through which ideologies are created, sustained, and challenged, and, as a received rhetorical practice, a context against which these ideological strategies are played out.-’ The challenge before

Twain was to tap into these contexts in order to train readers to be critics of the rhetoric

of racism, to document not just the existence and inhumanity of racism, but to expose the rhetorical practices through which racism justified itself. And it is through Twain’s 45 parody of the received rhetoric of racism, suggests Mailloux, that Huckleberry Finn acquires much of its humour and strength as political commentary.25

Communicative26

The communicative perspective on landscape is the most recent to develop in cultural geography. It is also one of the most diverse approaches. Its practitioners draw from a wide variety of theory and methods—including, but not limited to, deconstructionism, semiotics, hermeneutics, rhetorical theory, and ‘thick description’. Communicative geographers, nevertheless, share a common objective: to discover how landscapes function as modes of communication and how language structures our relationships with our environments and each other. Geographers such as Ley, Duncan, and Pred contend that people consciously and unconsciously encode the landscape with symbols, and that these symbols function to create, sustain, and modify social meaning. The task before communicative geographers is to study the manner in which power relations, political ideals, and aesthetic preferences are symbolically written into or acted out in the landscape, and to assess how effectively these symbols and actions affect ‘audiences” behaviours and attitudes.

I have suggested in Table 1.1 that the communicative perspective features act as its central term and thus as the principal motive of human action. I make this claim since communication is first and foremost an exchange between an author/speaker/participant and an audience or another author/speaker/participant. It also accords with the argument put forward in most communicative research that culture is an ongoing process. Culture, communicative geographers believe, is dynamic and contested—it is a process that is continually imposed, sustained, negotiated, and re-worked. As such, the landscape is also dynamic and contingent. Landscapes are not passive records of a cultural way of life, nor the reflections of universal human qualities, nor solely the products and tools of 46 capitalist society. Landscapes, communicative geographers argue, are dependent on use.

Landscapes acquire meaning through their presentation (description, analysis, promotion) and interpretation. Landscapes, or the symbols they are composed of, do not possess meaning in and of themselves. Rather, symbols and landscapes acquire meaning through use. As such the meaning of landscape depends on a culture’s communicative conventions.

The first person to advocate a communicative perspective in cultural geography was Phil Wagner. Wagner had studied at Berkeley with Sauer in the 1950s, and had subsequently published a well known reader in traditional cultural geography with

Marvin Mikesell. However, in the 1970s Wagner broke from the traditional perspective, dramatically “renounc[ing] his earlier conception of cultural geography” in a presidential address to the Association of Pacific Coast Geographers (Wagner 1975). In particular,

Wagner attacked the idea of culture in traditional research. He argued that “One can take seriously the notion of culture as closely shared symbols, norms, values, habits, and even possessions when one pictures it as nestled in a mountain valley somewhere, populated by a thousand or so folk all by themselves”, but that such notions were ill suited to the study of modem, dynamic, and spatially diverse cultures. Traditional research, he argued, assumes that culture is a static, passive, and universally shared guide to human behaviour. All members of a group “possess culture”, but none can shape it. Culture in modem societies, in contrast, is malleable and incomplete: culture is learned behaviour carried out in “specific, located, purposeful, rule-following, and rule making groupings of people communicating and interacting with one another” (1975:

11). The reference to communication in this defmition is significant In an earlier monograph, Wagner (1972a) had proposed not just that “Culture consists of systematically communicated experience” but that “it is difficult to separate the communication process from the substance of culture”. Communication, as the key 47

“explanatory principle”, includes “all possible behaviour, artifacts, and man-induced environmental states” (1972a: 4, 5 emphasis added). Building on this argument,

Wagner proceeded to criticize the major themes in traditional research. For example,

Wagner characterized the traditional “image of the cultural landscape as repository of past monuments and result of former exploitation [as] another ghost story” (1975: 9).

Wagner was not opposed to landscape interpretation; he wanted, however, to move beyond simple descriptions of its material features:

What counts is how contemporary people, or people of some definite past period, live or have lived in their surroundings, and use or have used them to express themselves through symbolism and, above all, how people learn from the transformed environment and are formed by it. (1975: 9)

Thus, according to Wagner, the landscape is more than a modified natural environment.

The landscape is a “kind of theater possessing many stages” which is purposefully encoded and interpreted by individuals and institutions in an attempt to express

themselves and influence the actions of others (1972a: 5).27

Wagner’s proposals were radical and boldly stated. They did not make an

immediate impact in cultural geography for two reasons, however. Firstly, his ideas

were swamped by those emanating from the humanist and Marxist research in the 1970s.

Secondly, despite the publication of several articles and a monograph on the topic,

Wagner never fully explored the implications of his communicative perspective. In fact,

in many ways Wagner continued to rely on traditional research themes. For instance,

Environment and Peoples contains numerous examples of how artifacts in the landscape

are “fossilized gestures” that can be used to identify regional patterns of communication.

He also describes the landscape as an expressive medium, one which reflects the tastes,

creativity, and sensibilities of its inhabitants. However, Wagner seldom punctuates these 48 descriptions with specific examples of how institutions or persons have scripted the

landscape. He also does not address the modem advertising industry, politics, or class

relations in any length, nor offer any detailed methods for interpreting communication

from a geographic standpoint. As in much traditional research, Wagner’s develops his

examples at a very general scale. For example, in a passage that describes how the

landscape promotes various roles, Wagner argues that: “The real or simulated cowboy

context exemplifies different American values and creates different heroes than does the

downtown office-worker world”; that “French tourists almost completely shun countries reputed to produce a poor cuisine”; and that “Germans identify intensely with their

houses, scrubbed relentlessly and guarded by huge fierce dogs” (1972a: 52). Even

where his text turns to prisons, the modem media, and art, few concrete examples are

forthcoming. The absence of these examples still limits Wagner’s audience. Although

his work has been recently re-discovered (Duncan 1990), most communicative cultural geographers look elsewhere for materials and methods.

One cultural geographer who has called attention to Wagner’s ideas, but who has

also moved substantially beyond them, is James Duncan. Duncan draws on the work of

the French literary and cultural critic Roland Barthes who Duncan claims was one of the most astute readers of landscapes (Duncan and Duncan 1988). Barthes’ insight,

demonstrated in such essays as the “The Blue Guide” (Barthes 1976), stems from his refusal to accept landscape and other cultural features at their face value. Barthes always

tries to probe beneath the surface of cultural artifacts to uncover their hidden structures and ideological assumptions. In promoting Barthes as an exemplar, Duncan wants to build on Barthes’ sensitivity to the transmission of power through the landscape, and to borrow the general tenor of Barthes’ literary techniques of interpretation (Duncan and

Duncan 1992). “Landscapes anywhere”, he writes, “can be viewed as texts which are constitutive of discursive fields, and thus can be interpreted socio-semiotically in terms 49 of their narrative structure, their synecdoches, and recurrence” (Duncan 1990: 184).

Duncan (1990) and Duncan and Duncan (1988) demonstrate the possibilities of this approach through several examples, the most developed of which is an interpretation of the textual landscape of the Kandyan kingdom of Sri Lanka. The Kandyan landscape is significant in that it is closely modeled after principles found in key religious texts. The landscape was thus in a sense a material replication of scripture, containing not only its referents but also its metaphors and aphorisms. Duncan is careful, nevertheless, not to subject the Kandyan landscape to too literal an interpretation. Like texts, the landscape is open to a variety of interpretations. In fact, he proceeds to show how competing

‘interpretive communities’ developed a variety of alternative interpretations, and how these interpretations were implicated in the larger cultural struggles of Kandyan society.

Although Duncan’s theoretical and empirical work represents a significant advance on Wagner’s proposals, it is open to two criticisms. First, critics have suggested that the landscapes Duncan examines offer themselves too easily to interpretation (Gregory 1993: 145-50). This criticism is especially directed at Duncan’s

Kandyan study where the relationship between texts and the texts of landscape are obvious. A more challenging interpretation of ‘multi-vocal’ postmodern landscapes, critics suggest, is required before the true value of Duncan’s approach can be determined. A second criticism is that it does not fully explore the relationship between language and landscape. Duncan is primarily interested in how (physical) landscapes can be read using literary texts as a guide. However, he does not follow Barthes’ examples and examine how texts rhetorically condition the interpretation of landscape. Landscapes acquire meaning not just through what is said (or not said) about them; but in how they are textually constructed. The difference is more than a semantic one. In communicative research, it is important to approach texts and landscapes as an act of persuasion in which the author can draw upon a variety of rhetorical devices to get the audience onside. 50

These devices (structure, modes of address, stylistic qualities) may contain few references to a physical landscape. However, insofar as they condition the textual roles of the author and audience, the rhetoric of a text will influence the interpretation, and thus meaning of a landscape. This direction is one I will pursue in subsequent chapters.

A second example of the communicative approach is Pred’s (1990) recent work on the transformation of the landscapes of industrial Stockholm. In this research Pred analyzes how various social classes competed in their symbolic characterization, and thus appropriation of the city’s landscapes. In particular he shows how the upper classes tried to reclaim areas of the city by not just removing or occupying the streets, residences, and districts of the working class, but by replacing their toponyms with those of government, the monarchy, and high culture. This toponymic displacement, Pred argues, effectively destroyed the working class landscape. Without its names, colloquial expressions, and group histories, the landscape of working class Stockholm was lost.

Pred (1986) made a similar argument in his previous work which examined the transformation of village life in the rural districts of southern Sweden in the 1700 and

1 800s. In this case, Pred tries to document how the rationalization of farming patterns, and the concomitant destruction of village life as peasants moved from villages to isolated farmsteads, were accompanied by changes in the language and myths of the region, and that these changes in turn reinforced the structure of place and society.

Pred’ s recent studies have been well accepted in the literature and should prove influential. Gregory (1993), for instance, cites Pred’ s vignette of the daily path and activities of the average dockhand (Sörmland’ s-Nisse) as an example of geographical description at its best. Pred, using text, maps, and photographs, leads the reader through working class Stockholm, stopping at the dockhand’s various haunts for refreshment and company, and highlighting the drudgery of the docks and the cramped 51 spaces of his quarters. However, in presenting these descriptions, Pred does not feature language to the degree that he might. Pred’s usual strategy is to confront the reader with long lists of ‘socio-spatially oriented’ words and their translations. These lists supposedly map out the differences in groups’ vocabularies, and the socio-spatial transformations of their landscapes. He neither consistently nor thoroughly explains how language—its forms, idioms, and conventions—contributes to the meaning of landscape, and to the power relations between people in a landscape. On a few occasions he does consider the rhetorical significance of a word through an analysis, for instance, of a street name’s social etymology.28 But he does not develop a detailed analysis of how the rhetoric of the upper class ultimately pushed aside that of the working class or how the latter struggled to survive. In fact, Pred’s studies, despite their theoretical debt to poststructuralist thought, contain few references to rhetorical theory— to ideas about how language motivates people to action, or changes their beliefs. As a result, wailcing with Sörmland’s Nisse through Söder and Gamla Stan in central

Stockholm is like watching a home video—there are sights and sounds (and to his credit even smells); but there are no exchanges.29 In part, Pred’s limited rhetorical analysis may be attributed to his (limited) objective of showing how the recovery of the “lost words” of working class Stockholm can help uncover the “popular geography” of their

“lost worlds”. Still, Pred’ s interpretations would be stronger, from a communicative perspective, if they both analyzed language as a historically situated artifact, and explained how language actually shapes the actions of situated agents.30

Future Perspectives?

To conclude this chapter, it is perhaps appropriate to speculate on possible future directions of research in cultural geography. At present, Marxist and communicative perspectives appear to be dominant, perhaps not in numbers, but certainly in influence. 52

Both these approaches, however, are far from established in the sense of traditional and humanist approaches. Practitioners of the Marxist and communicative perspectives tend to be wide ranging in their intellectual borrowings, and both hesitate to take extreme theoretical positions. This said, I believe the most likely direction for cultural geography to head is towards a middle ground between Marxist and communicative perspectives.

This might come about within an agency-based perspective, not in the sense of traditional cultural geography, but rather of one that treats communication as a historically situated commodity or mode of representation. This perspective would satisfy the Marxist demand to analyze landscapes as products of a specific social and economic structure, and the communicative emphasis on the primacy of communication. It would, nevertheless, and here is the catch, have to transcend both so that the motivation of human behaviour is placed within the mode of representation or commodity itself. There are inklings of these possibilities, I sense, within Harvey’s (1989) and subsequently

Gregory’s discussions of the French philosopher Henri Lefebvre, and, in particular, his notion of representations of space, and how they influence, and are bound up, in the construction of concrete space. Representations of space are not instances of communication, nor are they products of a socio-economic context. Representations of space are conceptions of space that are embodied in social practices (the law, planning, engineering) and institutions. Representations of space are thus akin to ideologies, although Lefebvre states clearly that they may be openly or subtly challenged (1991: 38-

46). Lefebvre’s ideas are complex, and certainly will not appeal to cultural geographers working within humanist and traditional perspectives. They may, nevertheless, prove fruitful for Marxist and communicative geographers who are presently trying to develop their current perspectives further.

Although an approach that builds on the Dramatistic assumptions of two or more approaches is perhaps the most likely scenario, I also feel there is still considerable room 53 to expand and explore a communicative perspective—that is, to consider in greater theoretical and empirical detail the specific ways in which communication influences the creation of landscapes and cultures. A move in this direction will not entail a complete abandonment of scenic (context) and agent themes, but it will require placing communication before these concerns. Practically, an act-based communicative geography will require greater experimentation with theories and methods of interpreting communication. I explore some of this material in Chapters 2 and 4, and try to put a communicative perspective into practice in Chapters 6 and 7.

Notes

‘See Brock, Scott and Chesebro (1990) and Foss (1990) for a discussion of recent applications of Dramatism.

2See Rueckert (1969) for an overview of critical responses to Burke’s work. The most extensive introduction to Burke is Heath (1986). See also Simon and Melia (1989), White and Brose (1982), and Lentricchia (1983). i make this claim despite Carrier’s earlier observation “that there has been little treatment of Burke in scholarly journals” (1982: 43). It is important to recognize with Overington that although there are few clear introductions and explanations of Burke’s thought in the social sciences, Burke has been lurking in the footnotes of social scientists since the 1930s (1977: 131). A case in point is the work of Clifford Geertz. In the preface to

Works and Lives, Geertz writes: “Finally, in lieu of a dedication ... I would like merely to mention the name of the man, nowhere cited in the body of the text, who has had no direct connection to it or me, but whose work has served as its governing inspiration at almost every point: Kenneth Burke” (1988: 6). When the impact of Geertz on anthropology, or Goffman on sociology, or Hayden White on historiography are taken into account—for all of whom Burke is a key point of reference—then Burke’s impact on the social sciences becomes more apparent. See Mitchell (1978) for an evaluation of Burke’s influence on Goffman’s sociology and White and Brose (1982) and Simon and Melia (1989) for broader discussions of Burke and the social sciences. Burke, however, appears to be virtually unknown in human geography despite geographers’ recent interest in Geertz. A literature search turned up only three references to his work. See Kunze (1983), Pred (1984), and Duncan (1990).

4See Lentricchia’s (1983) Criticism and Social Change. See also Kadvany’s (1985) and Scult’ s (1985) positive assessments of Lentricchia’ s argument. Further support for Burke’s ‘uncanny’ contemporaneity is found in Winterowd (1983), Gabin (1987), Gunn (1987), Southwell (1987), and Covino (1988). 54

5th a restatement of his article “The Symbolic Inference; or, Kenneth Burke and Ideological Analysis”, Jameson acknowledges that Burke’s writings “were certainly formative in my own development” as a literary critic, and goes on to suggest that “they will be the object of study and suggestive models for critical practice for some time to come” (1978: 401). Jameson’s views of Burke’s ideas are discussed briefly by Scult (1985).

6”Deconstruction’s useful work,” writes Lentricchia, “is to undercut the epistemological claims of representation, but that work in no way touches the real work of representation—its work of power ... deconstruction can show that representations are not and cannot be adequate to the task of representation, but it has nothing to say about the social work that representation can and does do” (1983: 50). This argument leads Lentricchia to the conclusion that “Deconstruction is conservatism by default” (Lentricchia 1983: 51). Southwell (1987) and Kadvany (1985) also contrast Burke’s thought with deconstructionism. The latter defines Derrida as a ‘hedonistic sceptic’, as one who negates “certain knowledge into no knowledge” (Kadvany 1985).

Burke argues that language tends to the ‘essential’ because people tend rhetorically to present their own beliefs as ‘natural’ (taken-for-granted), and because of what Burke refers to as the ‘principle of entelechy’. Entelechy is the pursuit of perfection, or the ultimate completion of the potentialities of a given terminology. Burke argues that any given terminology contains implications for the interpretation of human behaviour, and that its users try to attain the “pezfectfi4fihlment” of those implications (Burke 1972: 39). “Each perspective, whether political, economic, psychoanalytical, or ethical, contains basic concepts that appear as archetypes and compel us to create and live a viewpoint consistent with others” (Heath 1986: 103). Derrida’s and Foucault’s deliberate use of paradox, contradiction, and ambiguity are basically attempts to avoid the principle of entelechy, to avoid the essentializing tendency that comes with being an author. In Lentricchia’s (1983) and Hayden White’s (1988) opinion, and I suspect Burke would agree, both authors fail in this attempt.

8The influence of Burke on Duncan’s research is discussed by Cuzzort and King (1980). See also Carrier (1982) for a brief critique of Duncan’s and other sociologists’ use of Burke.

9Dramatism is presented in Burke’s A Grammar ofMotives. It appears, however, that Burke had been working for some time on the method before the Grammar was published in 1945. In the last chapter of Attitudes Towards History, published in 1937, Burke mentions that he is developing a system for evaluating the representation of action. Moreover, the title essay of The Philosophy ofLiterary Form, published in 1941, is considered by many to be a first attempt at working through a Dramatist framework. “The Philosophy of Literary Form” is a “speculation on the nature of... literary action”, and, in particular, on the ‘strategic’ answers to questions about human motivation. All critical and imaginative works, Burke argues, strategically size up the situations they present, “name their structure and outstanding ingredients, and name them in a way that contains an attitude towards them” (1973: xvii, 1). Burke then goes on to propose a theory of drama as a means for investigating the rhetoric of inquiry, briefly outlining the nature of Dramatism and its pentad of coordinate terms (1973: 105-106). A concise 55 summary of Dramatism is found in The International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (Burke 1968: 445-451).

‘°See Edmundson (1984) for a micro-rhetorical analysis of social scientific research.

11Root metaphors have been used by Barnes (1989; 1991; 1992), Livingstone and Harrison (1981), and Mills (1982) to analyze research in geography. The similarities between Dramatism and a metaphorical approach are clearest in Barnes’ (1992) interpretation of the metaphors of neo-classical and Marxist research in economic geography. Barnes argues that geographers working within these approaches employ metaphors to develop a singular view of ‘reality’. In particular, Barnes contends that neo-classical geographers use a physicist metaphor that effectively characterizes people as conduits of rational economic behaviour. The logic of the metaphor suggests that since particles move without purpose, that “once certain parameter values are specified, human action is immediately determined”. In comparison, Barnes argues that Marxist perspectives use a biological metaphor wherein the reproduction of social relations, and even the means of social reproduction, are determined by the economic environment. Barnes supports his interpretation by quoting a passage from Aithusser to the effect that,

The structure of the relations of production determines the places and functions occupied and adopted by the agents of production, who are never anything more than occupants of these places. (quoted in Barnes 1992: 132)

Barnes’ interpretations are similar to those that could be offered by Dramatism insofar as they identify a perspective’s primary assumptions about human motivation, and examine how the language of those assumptions (their metaphorical character) shape the perspective’s subsequent theoretical claims and observations. The primary difference between metaphorical approaches and Dramatism is that the latter is potentially more comprehensive and comparative. Dramatism’s ‘pentad’ of critical terms provides a range of well-defined ‘tools’ that can be used to describe the internal character of a perspective, and to compare and contrast one perspective with another. For instance, a Dramatist interpretation might stress the similarities between neo-classical and Marxist research in economic geography insofar as both feature terms that describe the fundamental motivation for human economic behaviour in ‘scenic’ terms (ie. human behaviour is thought to be governed by the ‘laws of nature’ or by the ‘laws of the jungle’).

12From a Dramatistic perspective, the social scientific meaning of agency is best thought of as a quality of the agent.

‘3Ricouer makes a similar argument about the difficulty of interpreting human acts in Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on Language, Action and Interpretation, (1981).

‘41n an earlier study, the author remarked: “There is reason to believe that the predominant subculture among American Negroes is fairly tolerant toward the use of alcohol, explaining the observed [racial] differences” amongst drinking-drivers. Apparently these findings are disputed by other researchers (in Gusfield 1981: 102-3). 56

15The most comprehensive introduction to Burke’s work is found in Heath (1986), although Burke’s own summary essays in Language as Symbolic Action (1966), as well as his definition of Dramatism in the International Encyclopedia ofthe Social Sciences (1968), should also be consulted.

16Burke claims that it is impossible to refute this claim on historical or logical grounds. Fully aware of the terminological strategies of his position, Burke argues that even if it could be proven that drama was not the ‘prototype’ of symbolic expression, then he would simply contend that “the earlier forms were but a groping towards [drama], as rough drafts, with the ritual drama as the perfection of these trends—while subsequent forms could be treated as ‘departure’ from it, a kind of ‘aesthetic fall” (1973: 105). The broader point Burke makes here is that language is such a slippery medium, that no position can be ultimately proven or disproven. Drama, as a ‘metaphor’ for human action, is simply a starting point, since language does not contain any absolute means of grounding its assertions in ‘reality’. Burke makes the same argument in the Grammar with respect to the status of the individual terms of the pentad: “As for the five terms themselves, we found that they needed nothing to proceed them... They could, in themselves, be stated as a beginning of the ‘Let there be—and there was’ sort. And their justification couldfollow, as one noted their place in the ‘collective revelation’ of common usage, and showed the range of their applicability” (1969a: 340). Burke’s belief that Dramatism, or any calculus designed to evaluate symbolic action, ultimately succeeds or fails in terms of the kinds of observations it makes explicit, is a common ‘pragmatic’ theme in his work (1973: 124).

‘7As Overington (1977) points out, there is often confusion over whether Burke intended Dramatism to be solely a meta-method for analyzing how social scientists and philosophers have interpreted human action, or whether it can also be used as a method for analysing human relationships. Burke has used Dramatism to both ends. However, when used as a method for analysing human relationships, there is a tendency to loose touch with Burke’s emphasis on language. Goffman, for instance, uses drama more akin to ‘game’ or ‘play’, while Combs (1980) uses the pentad as a static framework to analyze the ‘physical’ components of the drama of politics (ie. ‘the scene was this, the actors involved were such and such’). In my interpretation, this elemental use Dramatism is not consistent with Burke’s work.

181 have made every effort to use gender neutral language throughout the thesis. I have, however, left gendered terms where they occur within quotes.

‘9Wagner and Milcesell (1961) write that “The ascription of meanings, inherent in culture, guides action ... and results thereby in such concrete expressions as systems of belief, social institutions, and material possessions” (emphasis added). The importance of culture in traditional research is clear in Zelinsky’s argument that culture “is the critical human attribute, the one exclusive possession that sets mankind far apart from all other organisms” (Zelinsky 1973: 70). 57

20Sauer, C. (1962), “Cultural geography”, in Readings in Cultural Geography, P. Wagner and M. Mikesell, (originally published 1931), Chicago: University of Chicago, 32.

21Sauer, C. (1962), “Cultural geography”, in Readings in Cultural Geography, P. Wagner and M. Mikesell, (originally published 1931), Chicago: University of Chicago, 32.

22Although Salter and Lloyd (1977) develop their arguments principally in reference to humanist approaches, their key interpretive ideas and empirical examples are more characteristic of traditional cultural geography.

23See also one of Cosgrove’s (1983) initial arguments for a Marxist perspective. In it, Cosgrove criticizes the tendency of some Marxists to regard social production as solely a derivative of a mode of production. He argues that Marxist geographers should regard “a mode of production as a mode of life” (1983: 6). See also Daniels (1985), “Arguments for a humanistic geography”, in The Future of Geography, R. Johnston (ed), London: Methuen, 143-58.

24This said, I should also point out that what Mailloux means by ‘context’ is not always what Marxist and other geographers mean by this term. Mailloux believes that context determines meaning, but he also argues that context is “ultimately not formalizable”. By this he means that it is impossible to specify a context fully enough to completely justify a particular interpretation of some event. Thus, for Mailloux, the word context does not have the same implications of ‘grounding’ or ‘concretizing’ that it often does in geography. Contexts, both those of the events critics seek to explain, and those within which critics work, can only be approximated (1989: 10-16).

As an experiment in anti-foundational rhetorical criticism, Rhetorical Power actually has three objectives: to provide an interpretation of Huckleberry Finn, to account for the reception of the novel by American society at the time it was published, and to show how other critics’ readings of the novel have evolved in response to the changes in the ‘conversation’ over literary theory. It is interesting to note that Huckleberry Finn initially was interpreted more as a work within the ‘Bad-boy’ genre ofjuvenile fiction than as a commentary on race relations. The reason for this interpretation, Mailloux believes, is that readers at the time were preoccupied with how events described in the book would contribute to juvenile delinquency.

26There is of yet no accepted label for identifying this perspective on landscape. ‘Communicative’ is my own term. Other possibilities include ‘symbolic’ or ‘textual’, the later in reference to Duncan’s work on the ‘text of landscape’. ‘Communicative’ I feel better expresses the general qualities of this perspective.

27wagner writes: the “cultivation of expressive personal style is very likely far more nearly central to the human use of landscape and to life than is any more mundane and reasonable search for cozy, safe adjustment with material conditions” (1972b: 67). And “Environments invariably assert themselves in the guise of a kind of further grammar of 58 action that determines what interpretation to attach to any given expression on a particular occasion” (1972a: 56).

28Pred’s analysis of the double meanings of Arsenaisgatan in Stockholm is one such example (1990). Arsenalsgatan literally means Armoury street, and is, therefore, associated with government and power. The working class, however, frequently punned the name to refer to the area between a woman’s anus and her vagina. The reference here is to the street’s course from the ‘shitty’ working class areas to Snobbrinnen (an avenue along which ‘ladies’ from city’s upper classes strolled).

29Gregory (1993: 247) comes to a similar conclusion about Pred’s own textual experiments with a more poetic and less linear style, suggesting that Pred “somehow glides ‘behind the back’ of language without marking the surface”.

30Pred’s emphasis on actors in historical contexts suggests that his current work may best interpreted as a blend of materialist (Pred 1984), humanist (Pred 1983), and communicative approaches. CHAPTER 2

RHETORIC AND

PRESENTATIONS OF LANDSCAPE

The purpose of this chapter is to elaborate on a perspective and method for interpreting landscapes as communicative constructions. This area of discussion is critical to the success of the communicative perspective. It is one thing to describe a landscape as a text (or similar communicative medium), but it is another to interpret it as one. Or as

Wagner argues, “Certainly some analytical approach is necessary if the implications of communication for the cultural situation are to be grasped” (1972b: 56). The analytical approaches with which cultural geographers have experimented include symbolic interactionism (Hugill 1975), hermeneutics (Rose 1981; Pickles 1992), deconstructionism (Soja 1986; Duncan and Duncan 1988; Harley 1992), iconography

(Cosgrove and Daniels 1988; Daniels 1992), non-verbal communication (Rapoport

1982), semiotics (Eyles 1987; Burgess and Wood 1988; Hopkins 1990), a mild form of linguistics (Pred 1990), reader response theory (Kenny 1992), metaphorical analysis

(McGreevy 1992; Hepple 1992), rhetoric (Lewis 1988; Rydin and Myerson 1989), and

“ecological symbolism” (Rowntree and Conkey 1980). The purpose of this chapter is not to examine each of these methods in detail. Rather, my objective is to argue for a particular perspective and body of methods—those associated with rhetorical criticism.

Nevertheless, I would like to begin with a brief overview of other methods presently used in cultural geography and tourism studies for interpreting the communicative qualities of landscapes.

59 60

Review of Interpretive Methods

Analytical approaches to the interpretation of communicative landscapes can generally be placed into one of two groups: those which address the imagery and visual rendering of landscape, and those which focus on the ‘texts’ and textual presentation of landscape.

This categorization is not absolute. Barnes and Duncan (1992: 5) suggest, for example, that the metaphor of text—broadly conceived—can encompass a wide range of cultural productions (literature, paintings, maps, and landscapes) as well as social, economic, and political institutions. Similar arguments are also made by Cosgrove and Jackson

(1987) for visual metaphors. Both areas of research, furthermore, adopt similar perspectives on landscape (describing it as a symbolic construction), and on the character of ‘language’ (preferring poststructural theories). There is also some overlap in methodology. Deconstructionism, for instance, has been used to analyze maps (Harley

1992), texts (Duncan and Duncan 1988), and (material) landscapes (Soja 1986).

Studies of the visual qualities of landscape are often associated with, but certainly not limited to, research by historical materialists such as Dennis Cosgrove, Stephen

Daniels, and Peter Jackson. Cosgrove, as noted in Chapter 1, argues that landscape is a visual concept (a “way of seeing”) that is intimately associated with the historical

development of capitalist societies—that the “visual power of landscape ... complements the real power humans exert over land as property” (Cosgrove 1985). To investigate the relationships between landscapes and capitalist ideology, Cosgrove proposes the method of iconology. Iconology, as developed by Edwin Panofsky, is a method that attempts to comprehend the total meaning of an image (a work of art, photograph, or sculpture) through analysis of its specific content, its character as a composition, and its “situation within a history of culture and ideas” (Bialostocki 1964: 778). It is this latter emphasis 61 that Cosgrove believes makes iconology particularly well suited to the interpretation of landscapes.1 An initial attempt to use iconology in geography is Cosgrove’s (1982) own

“The myth and the stones of Venice: an historical geography of a symbolic landscape”.

Cosgrove’ s objective in this essay is to interpret the “myth of Venice”, the utopian idea that Venice was “a perfect union or conjunction of society and place”, and that “served to sustain Venice as a symbolic landscape of enduring significance for Europeans” (1982:

145). Cosgrove tries to accomplish this objective through an analysis of the changing character of Venice’s pre-industrial landscapes and their iconographic representations in art, cartography, murals, architecture, and city planning. Cosgrove detects in all these representations an attempt to portray Venice as a harmonious place in which nature and social institutions combined to provide a vision of “the ideal organization of creation”

(1982: 153). He also documents how Venice’s unspoiled (“virginal”) qualities attracted

British visitors who were disturbed by the impact of industry on the culture and landscapes of their country. John Ruskin, for instance, used Venice as a vehicle for his critiques of Victorian England. Cosgrove thus suggests that the landscape of Venice functioned as an icon of the social struggles being played out in capitalist societies. Yet he is also careful to point out that Venice’s symbolism helped contribute in the past to the

‘legitimation of an established order and thus to the continued rule of a patrician elite’

(Cosgrove 1982: 153). The conclusion that appears to follow from Cosgrove’s study is that a landscape initially acquires meaning from its cultural context, but that this meaning

(and context) can subsequently be appropriated and transformed by other societies and cultures.

Another example of iconographic research in geography is Stephen Daniels’

(1992) interpretation of a water colour by the great English landscape artist and romantic,

J.M.W. Turner. The painting, entitled Leeds and completed in 1816, depicts the 62 landscape of an important centre of cloth manufacture in England. Daniels begins his analysis with a meticulous description of the painting—focussing not only on its content, but also commenting on the artistic process, on how Turner “compiled” the painting from detailed sketches and from a variety of perspectives. There are several reasons for this commentary. Firstly, Daniels wants to show that Turner possessed both a keen eye and a detailed knowledge of the industrial scene. Shown in the work are tentermen, clothworkers, masons, factory hands, factories, intensive agriculture, and routes of commerce. Secondly, Daniels wants to identify the artistic and textual references found in the painting. Art and literature are never produced in an intellectual void and Turner’s

Leeds is no exception. Found throughout Turner’s work are figures borrowed from other artists and from his own portfolio. Daniels points out, for instance, that there are parallels between the imagery of Leeds and that found in The Fleece, a poem written by

John Dyer about the production of cloth, and with which Turner appears to have been intimately familiar. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Daniels wants to evaluate

Turner’s attitude toward the industrialization of the English landscape. Unlike proponents of the picturesque school of landscape, and unlike other romantics

(Wordsworth), Turner appears to have appreciated industrial capitalism and the changes it brought to the landscape.2 In Daniels’ (1992: 42) estimation, Leeds depicts “a scene of concerted energy—meteorological, technological and human energy—harnessed to industrial expansion. The brightening of the sunlight, freshening of the breeze and rising smoke empower the scene and endow it with optimism.” In line with iconology’s emphasis on historical and cultural contexts, Daniels attributes this vibrancy and optimism of the scene to Britain’s recent victories on the battlefields of Europe. Leeds,

Daniels suggests, is a patriotic painting—it celebrates the industry of Leeds as testimony to Britain’s resilience and tenacity in the face of conifict and continental blockades. 63

Visual imagery has also been an important subject in tourism research by geographers (Britton 1979; Dilly 1986; Hadley 1987; Jalde 1987; O’Brien 1988) and other social scientists (Graburn 1976; MacCannell 1976; Schwartz 1982; Hart 1983;

Uzzell 1984). An emphasis on the visual is not surprising given the importance of photography in tourist advertising. Photographs are a key component (if not the key component) of contemporary tourist literature, not just because of their omnipresence, but also, Abler and James contend, because of photography’s “ability to influence without appearing to do so” (Abler and James 1988: 136). Photographs are a

‘naturalistic’ medium in the sense that they appear to provide a ‘window on reality’.

Their ‘rhetorical power’ thus may be greater than the frequently hyperbolic texts that accompany them.

Semiotics is one of the most common methods used in tourism studies to interpret visual imagery (Abler and James 1988). Semiotics is a theory about the primary components of communication and the way in which they interact. As a theory, it is particulary associated with the work of the linguist Saussure and the pragmatist philosopher C. S. Pierce. Briefly, semiotic theory suggests that communication is composed of signifiers (an object or event) and signifieds (meaning) that in combination form signs (icons). Semiotics also holds that the relationship between these elements is not unilinear. Signs do not acquire meaning simply through representation but rather through their place and participation in a larger constellation of signs and signifieds.

Williamson (1978) comments, for example, that “Advertisements are constantly translating between systems of meaning, and therefore constitute a vast meta-system where values from different areas of our lives are made interchangeable”.3 The objective of the semiotician is to describe these systems, and in the process throw light on the possible meanings of particular signs. An example of this approach is a study by Uzzell 64

(1984) of brochures promoting tourism in the Mediterranean. Drawing upon the work of

Roland Barthes, Uzzell identifies six “connotational procedures” commonly used by tourist promoters: trick effects, pose, objectification, aestheticization, syntax, and photogenia. Of these, Uzzell’ s discussion of pose best illustrates the types of observations semiotics can provide. Uzzell argues that the use of pose—the placement and apparent interaction of human subjects in a scene—is both remarkably consistent in tourist advertising and frequently reminiscent of arrangements found in paintings. To demonstrate this point, Uzzell places tourist photographs beside well known paintings by

Rubens (The Three Graces) and Tintoretto (Susannanh in her Bath). The similar use of pose in advertising and art contributes meaning to tourist promotions, Uzzell contends, through reference to long-standing attitudes towards, for example, the relationships between men and women. Most tourist advertising shows women in submissive, alluring, and convivial postures, while men are depicted in positions of control and power. Artistic references also remind the potential tourist, Uzzell argues, of “what it

means to be a cultured European ... [and thus help] distance the tourist from the native culture and inhabitant, and establish a northwest European cultural superiority” (1988:

88-9). Some critics of semiotics argue that this type of analysis overextends its material, that semiotics has a tendency to extract much more from the image than its creator intended or its audience sensed (Lentricchia 1980). Uzzell, nevertheless, is careful to point out that images can have several different layers of meaning, and that their success depends not only on how well they tap into meaning systems but also on the ‘interpretive’ faculties of their intended audience.

In contrast to semiotic interpretations, other studies have focussed on how developments in the technology of photographic reproduction have influenced the prevalence and type of images found in tourist literature. Hadley’s (1987) study of the 65 relationship between photographic practices and the Canadian Pacific Railway’s promotion of tourism in western Canada is a relevant example. Hadley’s essay describes the photographers who ventured into western Canada in the second half of the nineteenth century, the technology they had at their disposal, the relationship between painting and photographic images, and how the realism of the latter limited its use at a time when promotion was based on exaggeration and literary imagery. Artistic renderings of the landscape were often filled with references to European landscapes and art. In fact, it was not uncommon for artists to alter and embellish photographs for publication in early tourist literature. The use of photographic images increased after the turn-of-the-century when new promotional conventions were developed in response to changing aesthetics and markets for tourism (1987: 59).

While I recognize that visual imagery is an important and dynamic component of tourist advertising, I have chosen to focus almost exclusively on textual presentations of landscape in the empirical chapters of the thesis. I made this decision for two reasons: firstly, one of the primary objectives of the thesis is to explore the utility and implications of using rhetorical theories and methods for interpreting landscapes. Secondly, space and time restrictions do not permit a full analysis and theoretical account of all of the communicative elements of tourist advertising. The primary differences between textual and visual studies of landscape—aside from subject matter and methods of analysis— concern their perspectives on landscape. Specifically, there is less emphasis in textual studies on the necessity of grounding the idea of landscape in its historical and material circumstances. This stance does not entail an inattention to issues of power. Many textual studies focus directly on how the meanings and the symbolic appropriation of landscapes are contested amongst social groups (Ley 1987; Duncan 1990). A recent example of the textual interpretation of landscape is Kenny’s (1992) analysis of a land 66 use planning dispute in Portland, Oregon. The dispute focussed on an attempt by Fred Meyer Inc. to amend Portland’s Comprehensive Plan in order to free a site located amongst some of Portland’s older, ‘character’ neighbourhoods for development. This move was opposed by local activists who saw the proposed development as an unnecessary intrusion, and as inconsistent with the Comprehensive Plan’s goal of addressing the immediate interests of community members. Representatives for Fred

Meyer Inc. countered that their plans were consistent with the city’s planning objectives in terms of economic growth. In Kenny’s analysis, the ensuing debate became “a paper war” of interpretation, each side trying to demonstrate that their readings best fit the authorial intentions of the plan. While support for both perspectives is found in the Plan, the representatives of Fred Meyer ultimately prevailed because, in Kenny’s estimation,

Portland’s poor economic climate at the time favoured interpretations that stressed

“rational management” and concrete solutions that were in the public’s, rather than the local community’s, interest.

Kenny’s study is an example of what is broadly referred to as a hermeneutic interpretation. Hermeneutics is associated traditionally with the ideas of William Dilthey

(Rose 1981) and more recently with those of Hans-Georg Gadamer and Paul Ricoeur

(Kerby 1993). As a general method, hermeneutics offers commentaries on the meanings expressed in a text, and places specific emphasis on how textual meaning depends on interpretive contexts. Hermeneutics can thus be considered the ‘flip side’ of a rhetorical perspective (Fisher 1985). Rhetoric is one of the oldest perspectives on communication and is explicitly concerned with the persuasive function of language. Rhetorical inquiry examines the specific strategies authors use to influence the interpretation of a text. Thus a rhetorical analysis of Fred Meyer Inc.’s successful attempt to amend Portland’s planning guidelines would emphasize why the language of the company’s arguments 67 held greater ‘sway’ with its political audience. For example, in a similar study of planning policy, Rydin and Myerson (1989) examine opposing arguments in terms of their ‘topics’ (that is their ideas or arguable positions), ‘ethos’ (methods used to linguistically unite the interests of presenters and interpreters), and analogies and syllogisms (methods of explanation and association). A rhetorical perspective can thus be thought of as an approach that addresses the presentation of a landscape in anticipation of its interpretation. The purpose of the remainder of this chapter is to examine the character and implications of rhetorical methods in greater detail by describing the historical and contemporary meaning and scope of rhetoric as a field of inquiry, and how rhetorical assumptions and methods affect the interpretation of landscape. The discussion begins with a brief account of how I became interested in rhetorical analysis.

Starting Points

I first became interested in rhetoric after several attempts to use humanist approaches.

Following the research of John Jakie (1977; 1981; 1985; 1987), I experimented with the humanistic perspective as an alternative means for interpreting tourism landscapes. As a field, tourism is to a large degree dominated by positivistic and applied research. This dominance is a reflection of the field’s historical links with recreation, forestry, and economics, and its contemporary ties with business and government. Research tends to concentrate on the economic and environmental impacts of tourism. Only a small percentage of studies focus on the cultural, social, and historical dimensions of tourism.

I experimented with the humanistic approach because I felt it provided a better perspective on the subjective dimension of landscapes. Specifically, humanist approaches appeared to provide an avenue for investigating the presentation of 68 landscapes in tourist literature. Salter and Lloyd had earlier argued that “creative literature” can provide a window on the experience of landscape, that “It calls up within the reader essential images of the world, images which might remain elusive and intangible in the absence of the clarifying power of literature” and yet does so “without sacrificing the richness of human experience” (1977: 1). If this is true of literary works, why not tourist promotions and travel diaries?

In the course of trying to use notions like sense-of-place, I discovered that humanist methods have their own weaknesses. Most humanist research on literature and landscape proceeds on the assumption that literature is an end in itself, that its purpose is to describe human experience, but not to interpret or pronounce on that experience. The clearest statement of this assumption is Yi-Fu Tuan’s in “Literature, Experience and

Environmental Knowing”:

Literary art uses words to realize images of experience. Because words are also the traditional means by which we explain, there may be a tendency to confuse description with explanation, particularly since both contribute toward understanding. However, literary works, like other modalities of art, do not explain; what they do is to enable us to recognize, with the immediacy of a revelation, the multivalent character of experience. (Tuan 1976b: 262)

This image of literary description is well suited to the humanist notion of sense-of-place

and its phenomenological principle of aesthetic detachment—that writers can bracket out points of view and describe reality in its own terms (Johnson 1983). In fact, literary

modes of communication are thought not only to provide a window on the lifeworid—

that is on the direct experience and meaning of landscape—but also to exemplify the

qualities of being in the lifeworid. Literary presentations are considered, in other words, 69

to exemplify the principle of pre-reflective intentionality: ‘literature describes but does not explain’—it is non-rhetorical.4

This image of literature and language is restrictive. It relies on the questionable

assumption that, in skilled hands, language can be used as a transparent and neutral medium. It focuses, furthennore, almost exclusively on the referential component of

language, paying little or no attention to its communicative dimensions. The humanistic view of literature avoids, as Robinson suggests, “the question of what it means to speak

or to write for others” (1987: l86). It does not address the self-conscious strategies

that writers use to set up a relationship with their audiences. In addition, the image of

literature as description uncritically promotes the ‘high-brow’ aesthetic that ART is a special and privileged practice, distinct in its powers of observation and pure in its motives from the practical and everyday arts of commerce, the media, and the political management of public opinion. Strictly applied, Tuan’s view of literature would not include a documentary by David Suzuki on the status of old growth forests, or a brochure promoting the amenities of a new retirement community, or an academic report to a commission examining Aboriginal land claims, or a narrative account of sport and life in British Columbia by Roderick Haig-Brown. All of these presentations can potentially tell us something about the landscape insofar as they are concerned with human values and the relationships between people and places. None, however, are instances of pure description. Their purposes are variously to provoke, promote, explain, inspire, or celebrate ideas and places.

In my quest to examine the language of tourist advertising, I became interested in rhetoric because rhetoric is concerned explicitly with language as a means of persuasion.

A rhetorical perspective does not shirk at the polemical. Rather it takes a pragmatic view of language. It is concerned with how language gets things done, with how language is 70

used by people to advantage. It is less interested in the nature of reality than in its creation. A rhetorical perspective assumes that all language, including literary language,6 is first and foremost a mode of communication. It is concerned with how language is used to motivate people to action, or to instil in them some belief or attitude or position towards a course of action. Rhetoric, Kenneth Burke writes, leads us,

through the Scramble, the Wrangle of the Market Place, the flurries and flare-ups of the Human Barnyard, the Give and Take, the wavering line of pressure and counterpressure, the Logomachy, the onus of ownership,

the War of Nerves, the War ... Rhetoric is concerned with the state of Babel after the Fall. Its contribution to a ‘sociology of knowledge’ must often carry us far into the lugubrious regions of malice and the lie. (Burke 1969b: 23)

In leading researchers into “the lugubrious regions of malice and the lie”, rhetoric broadens the range of communication that is open to study, but also renders the meaning of a landscape problematic. From a rhetorical perspective, the meaning of a specific landscape is never fixed or given. A landscape does not possess meaning; rather it constantly acquires meaning through its presentation in advertising, the news media, novels, planning documents, legal contracts, public displays, architecture, and all other forms of communication. Language plays a vital part in the creation of landscapes because language is the means through which we classify, order, relate, and generally make sense of the world about us. Language is not, however, a neutral medium. It does not provide, despite the hopes of early positivist philosophers, an objective window on the world. Rather language always presents the world from a particular perspective and for a particular purpose. It is always partisan, always a strategic medium of communication, because words, as categories, both include and exclude values, ideas, and phenomena from the landscapes they present. As Kenneth Burke suggests, “Even if any given terminology is a reflection of reality, by its very nature as a terminology it 71

must be a selection of reality; and to this extent it must function also as a deflection of reality” (1966: 45). Descriptions of landscape should not, therefore, be treated as

correct or incorrect representations of an objective reality. Descriptions of landscape are presentations of social values, beliefs, and attitudes in the sense that they direct, or at least seek to direct, others’ interpretations of the world about us.7 Presentations create

landscapes. They are always tied up in the promotion of ideas, the reproduction of power, the subversion of rules, and the celebration of beauty. They are attempts to

dictate, steer, change, substantiate, perpetuate or otherwise influence culture.

Presentations are, in short, rhetorical.

Competing Ideas of Rhetoric

There are few words whose common usages are so at odds with their critical meanings—

and few words whose critical meaning have transformed so greatly in recent decades.

Once exclusively a synonym for malice and lies, rhetoric is now used by many to refer to

language itself. And such is the meaning I attach to it. Language is always rhetorical because language is always partisan—it always presents landscapes and societies, and even itself, from a point of view. Rhetorical motives are found “in every ‘meaning,’ however purely ‘scientific’ its pretensions”, for “wherever there is persuasion, there is rhetoric. And wherever there is ‘meaning,’ there is ‘persuasion” (Burke 1969b: 172).

Modernist Views of Rhetoric

The view of rhetoric as specious artifice—and the humanist position that literary

language is something other than rhetoric—has its modem origins in the Enlightenment,

and, in particular, in modernist theories of representation (Weaver 1985: 3; LJsdlling

1976).8 Bacon, for instance, used clothing as a metaphor to characterize rhetoric as an

ornamental necessity. Rhetoric, he argued, is useful in civic occasions, for conference, 72

counsel, persuasion, and discourse. It is a means for dressing up that which was already

known (Briggs 1989: 151). But he warned that rhetoric also promotes illusions and

prejudices through the narratives of theologians and philosophers. True knowledge is

only discovered by disposing of these ifiusions and confronting nature on its own terms

(JJselling 1976: 60-6 1). Other early proponents of the ‘new science’ were less kind in

their pronouncements. For Descartes, rhetoric was the antithesis of rational thought:

“One can talk of persuasion whenever there is ground for further doubt. One can talk of

science however only when there is an unshakable ground”. Locke, more to the point,

castigated rhetoric as “the perfect cheat”: “If we would speak of Things as they are, we must allow, that all the art of Rhetorick, besides Order and Clearness, all the artificial and

figurative application of Words Eloquence hath invented, are for nothing else but to

insinuate wrong Ideas, move the Passions, and thereby mislead the Judgment”. Kant

similarly denounced rhetoric as “worthy of no respece’ and excluded it not only from the realm of science but also from those of poetry and the Arts. Rhetoric, he argued, is “the

art of ... deceiving by a beautiful show”, of “availing oneself of the weaknesses of men for one’s own designs”.9 Hobbes, Boyle, Croce, Hegel, Russell, Camap, and most

other modernist philosophers have reiterated this view of rhetoric, if not directly, then

indirectly through their efforts to separate object from subject, knowledge from language, mathematics from ideology, and logic from argument. Significantly, only figures working on the margins of modern philosophy—Vico, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard,

Pierce—argued for a place for rhetoric in knowledge and the sciences (Rorty 1979:

367).

On a contextual level, the view of rhetoric as artifice was a reaction to the status

of rhetoric prior to the Enlightenment. In ancient Greece and Rome, in the Middle Ages

and the Renaissance, rhetoric was often held in high esteem by academics and non- 73 academics alike. Rhetoric was associated with the judiciary, politics, and religion. It also had an important place in education, as part of the trivium of studies at medieval universities, through its association with the arts, and more generally through the emphasis on learning as discourse (Lewis 1954). Consequently, to Enlightenment artists, scientists, and philosophers—whose ideas and methods were often in conflict with the received wisdom—rhetoric was a symbol of tradition and authority. To attack rhetoric was to attack the cultural system.’°

The clearest expression of this relation between rhetoric and authority is

Descartes’ Discourse on Method. In the Discourse, Descartes narrates his education and how he came to his philosophical principle of the ‘doubting self’. Descartes attended Le

College des Jesuits de La Flèche. Here, as elsewhere, rhetoric was a primary component of the curriculum. In fact, the school’s most important awards were presented in the field of rhetoric and the top student “received the title of imperator, tribunus, or censor”

(TJseffing 1976: 57). Descartes enjoyed his studies at La Flèche, but he also came to the view, after studying philosophy with its variety of conflicting principles and positions, that rhetoric only provides a vocabulary to discuss problems of knowledge—it does not provide a means for establishing knowledge.

It is custom and example that persuade us rather than any certain knowledge; nevertheless the plurality of voices is worthless as a proof for truths that are slightly difficult to discover, thus it is much more likely that a man on his own will find them than an entire people. (Uselling 1976)

Descartes argues that to establish knowledge we must think for ourselves. His ideal is the doubting self, the person who rejects the persuasions of others and proceeds to discover knowledge according to the principle of doubting all that is merely probable.

Traditional knowledge, Descartes suggests, with its emphasis on discourse and books, is 74

much like the irregularity and spontaneity of the ancient or medieval section of a city. It is an accretion of opinions, some with extensions, others reconstructed, all jostling with

one another to be heard along twisting, narrow lines of thought. His image of scientific knowledge, in contrast, is that of a planned city with wide, straight avenues, and built in

strict accordance to a central guiding principle (JJselling 1976; Benjamin 1987; Carr 1990).

Descartes’ notion that knowledge is the preserve of the individual effectively restricts rhetoric to the realm of opinion. Where there is only solitary reflection and contemplation, there is no need for rhetoric, for rhetoric fundamentally concerns the communication of ideas between people. As a consequence, Descartes placed his own ideas, as well as those of Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, Pascal and other ‘heretics’, beyond reach of the church and the received view. The truth of their discoveries did not depend on debate and persuasion. The very rules by which the ‘games’ of philosophy and science are played had changed (Rorty 1979).

On a philosophical level, the view of rhetoric as artifice is reflected in the modernist search for a theory of representation. The notion of representation is one of the central building blocks of modernist philosophy. It addresses the relationship between truth and reality. Descartes’ concept of the self distinguishe.d scientific knowledge from scholastic knowledge, but it also clouded the relation between subject and object, mind and body, knowledge and essence, the mental and the physical.

Modernist philosophers have developed a variety of mechanisms to bridge this epistemological gap. All are based, however, on the premise that “To know is to represent accurately what is outside the mind”; or, in other words, that to understand the possibility and nature of knowledge is to understand the way in which representations are related to the things they represent (Rorty 1979: 3).11 75

The importance and meaning of representation in modernist thought is evident in

the etymology of the word itself. Etymologically, representation has three important

components: the prefixes re (‘anew’ or ‘again’) andpre (as a preposition ‘in front of’ or

‘before’), and the Latin root esse. Esse means ‘to be’, or ‘to have identity with’, and is also the root of essence, absence, being, the prefix iso-, omnipresence, presence, and present, and is closely related to the ‘sense’ and ‘substance’ family of words.’2 Esse refers to the reality component of the truth-reality equation, and, in particular, to the notion that things outside the mind have a singular and permanent substance. The prefix pre refers to the modernist premise that knowledge is acquired through direct observation

and experience of reality. Knowledge is acquired not by studying what others have said, but ‘at hand’. To know reality one must be in its presence.13 The meaning ofpre—as a kind of absolute proximity to reality—is reflected in Locke’s philosophy of empiricism

(only that which can be measured and quantified can be known with certainty), in

Russell’s notion of sense-data, and in the idealists’ concept of sens-ation (feeling, intuition) as the basis of (poetic) knowledge. The prefix re refers to the knowledge (or truth) component of the truth-reality equation. It suggests that to re-present something is to state anew the essence of that object; or, put in another way, that representation is the accurate account of the senses (or sensations) one gets when in the presence of an object. True knowledge mirrors reality.

There is not much room for rhetoric—even broadly defmed as communication— within the correspondence theory of truth. We should note, however, that the representation of reality through the method of clear and distinct ideas is not as pure as Descartes would have us believe. There is a persistent tension in the notion of representation that surfaces between its two prefixes. As noted, the prefix pre means absolute proximity in modernist philosophy. Yet, metaphorically, the prefix re has the 76 connotation of separation. That is, although used to designate an accurate reflection of something, re at the same time refers to something distinct and extrinsic to that object.

To represent something is to reflect it from a distance, or at another time, or in terms of that which it is not. And it is here, in this gap between essence and its representation, that we find an opening for rhetoric. And it is here, consequently, that we find modernist philosophers have concentrated their efforts. The primary objective of modernist philosophers since Descartes has been to reduce the distance between a representation and that which it represents, or, as Rorty puts it, to get “from inner space to outer space” (Rorty 1979: 139-140). In addressing this problem, modernist philosophers have suggested a variety of answers: that the distance is bridged by a cause-and-effect link between reality, perception, and knowledge (Locke); or that the distance is an illusion, since the essence of reality already exists within the human mind

(Kant) or spirit (Hegel) in the form of transcendental concepts; or that the distance is transparent to ‘mathematics, nature’s own language (Pascal); or that the distance is insignificant since there is a fundamental relationship between language and the reality it pictures (Russell); or that the distance is manageable if one brackets out presuppositions and returns to things in themselves (Husserl). This problem of representation is the root from which modernist projects have developed. And it is in this root problem that modernist attempts to suppress rhetoric are grounded. If it is possible to prove that there is a fundamental link between reality and its representation in knowledge—a bridge that leads from one to the other—then there is no need for rhetoric. Knowledge is not the product of considering options, opinions, and orientations. It is simply a matter of building the right bridge.’4

Whatever the solution, the attempts to reduce the distance between representation and reality changed the perception of what constitutes the correct use of language and 77

thus inverted the hierarchy of modes of discourse. For modernists such as Kant,

language is simply an “instrument which [people] can use at will to communicate [their]

thoughts and as such it has nothing to do with theformation of [their] thought and even

less with truth as unconcealing and concealing” (Ilsefflng 1976: 88). After the Enlightenment, rhetoric lost much of its former prestige and went into decline as a field

of study. It was still taught in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries at universities in

Europe and North America, but many of the topics that had once been within its province

were now addressed in the emerging fields of literary criticism, psychology, and

sociology. Furthermore, the importance of ‘invention’—the discovery of the available means of persuasion—in classical rhetoric gave way to an emphasis on style, on

adapting language to suit the audience. Prevailing theories of rhetoric were, in fact,

strongly influenced by scientists and philosophers of science. Campbell’s Philosophy of

Rhetoric, first published in 1776, was an attempt to develop a theory of rhetoric in line

with the notion of representation. Campbell’s work explores the implications of Locke’s

and Hume’s ideas for “developing a theory of communication grounded in a philosophy consciously opposed to Scholasticism” (Berlin 1984: 19). Campbell accepted the modernist concern with direct observation, and the notion that the mind is a mirror that

accurately represents the essences of reality. He argued against, therefore, the place of rhetoric in the discovery of knowledge. The role of rhetoric is to communicate knowledge to an audience, that is to reproduce the original experience or sensation of reality for others. The ideas set forth in the Philosophy ofRhetoric, along with similar texts (philosophically speaking) by Blair and Whately, dominated rhetorical studies in the

nineteenth century, and continue to influence its teaching in North American universities

to this day (Berlin 1984). The “current-traditional” view places rhetoric in the service of

science. Rhetoric is technical writing, it is objective rather than persuasive, it reports rather than interprets. As a consequence, the notion of rhetoric was reduced to a shadow 78

of its former self. Once a means of discovering truth, of creating community, and

motivating others to action, rhetoric is now largely a matter of style, of finding the

correct expression to communicate truths discovered through other means.

The Modernist View of Rhetoric in Geography

The modernist view of rhetoric as artifice and style is still common, and perhaps even

dominant in the social sciences. It is more common to see the term used as a pejorative

than in any scholarly sense.’5 Rhetoric is “bludgeoning the reader with twenty words

when four or five might seem too simple a solution”.16 In geography, this modernist

view of rhetoric was characteristic of logical positivist (behavioural, spatial science) research in the 1960s and 1970s. Positivists commonly distinguished between

nomothetic and ideographic research, the former characterized by inductive logic and

model building, and the latter by description and the use of metaphors as generalized

theories. At best, to quote Harvey, metaphors are useful as heuristic expressions. “At

worst”, in a phrase that foreshadows his subsequent embrace of Marxism, “they allow

the subtle employment of false analogy for propaganda ends” (1967: 551) Metaphors

are seen to hinder scientific objectivity, and the student of geography, Harvey argues, is presented with two alternatives.

He can either bury his head, ostrich-like, in the sand grains of an

ideographic human history ... Or he can become a scientist and attempt, by the normal procedures of scientific investigation, to verify, reject, or modify, the stimulating and exciting ideas which his predecessors presented him with. (Harvey 1967: 551)

Positivists clearly accept the modernist belief that language is a medium for picturing facts, and that truth is a correspondence between facts and reality. The objective of 79 positivist research is to polish the mirror of representation by identifying and eliminating the inconsistencies within their theories and models (Harvey 1967, 1969).

Perhaps the most extreme example of the positivist view of language and rhetoric in geography is Richard Symanski’s “The Manipulation of Ordinary Language”. In this essay Symanski criticizes Meinig’s work in historical geography as unscientific on the basis that Meinig uses language “in a way that is not truth preserving” (1976: 608).

Meinig’s writing, Symanski argues, characteristically displays a high frequency of superlatives and indefinite pronouns. The problem with this style is that it violates, according to Symanski, the “commonsensical” premise that “facts about events, peoples, places are not consistently extreme” (1976: 607). In passing this judgment, he quotes approvingly Wilson’s and Hayakawa’s warnings that we should be suspicious of the eloquent text and criticizes Hexter’s view that ‘truths’ of history cannot be evaluated according to the standards of scientific texts.17

Humanist geographers are more interested in the language of geographic research than positivist geographers. Many humanists, nevertheless, share with their positivist counterparts the notion that rhetoric is something distinct from the content of research.

Meinig’s (1983) and Watson’s (1983) calls for a more literary geography focus solely on language as style. They are not concerned with the status of rhetoric as a way of knowing, or how the relationship between the author, text, and audience is reflected in the language of description, or how the conventions of academic prose direct research into some areas and not others. It should be pointed out, furthermore, the phenomenology of Reiph, Pickles, and Tuan is based on the uncritical acceptance of the idea of representation. Phenomenology, as put forward by Husserl, is an objective, rational science whose ultimate aim is to clarify the universal structure of the lifeworid

(Pickles 1985). It presumes that there is an ultimate reality of essences that are ‘pre 80

given’; that ‘authentic’ experience takes place in the lifeworid, a realm of intentional yet pre-reflective existence; and that it is possible to clarify and delineate the original data of

people’s experiences of the lifeworid, and to show how these experiences are bound to

the essential structure of reality (Pickles 1985: 93, 117). Phenomenology holds that

language can and should be used solely as a descriptive medium in science. It explicitly

rejects the use of metaphors and analogies in research because they abstract away from

the real characteristics of the lifeworid (Pickles 1985: 103). Phenomenologists want to

bracket out these reified ways of seeing and describe the lifeworid in its own terms (Johnson 1983).

The New Rhetoric

Although the image of rhetoric as artifice persists in the social sciences, the modernist view has also come under increasing attack in this century, and is now in full retreat in

some areas of inquiry. In fact, nowhere is the challenge to the modernist view more evident than in the emergence of what Lyne refers to as the rhetoric of inquiry.’8 The rhetoric of inquiry is the study of “the place of rhetoric in the production and

dissemination of academic knowledge” (Lyne 1985: 66). Unlike Symanski’s and

Harvey’s attempts to exorcise, or at least avoid, the use of rhetoric in science, academics interested in the rhetoric of inquiry consider rhetoric to be inherent in all scholarly communication. They view rhetoric not as a system of artifice or style, but as a medium through which scientific knowledge is fashioned. They proceed on the assumption that rhetoric assists in both the discovery and communication of knowledge because language is never an inert vessel (Bazerman 1981: 361). Language never represents reality—it

always presents ‘reality’ from a particular perspective. Thus rather than privileging logic or mathematics as the language of nature, the rhetoric of inquiry is concerned with how even these symbol systems are implicated in the rhetorical interpretation of the world 81 about us. Studies of the rhetoric of inquiry have been particularly notable in anthropology and history, but now may be found in virtually all fields including human geography.19 In geography, studies have examined the rhetorical character of cartography (map construction) as well as the root metaphors that underlie research.20

The attack on the modernist view of rhetoric began in the 1920s and 1930s, and gathered momentum in the 1950s and 1960s when a diverse collection of philosophers

(l.A. Richards, Chaim Perelman, Stephen Toulmin), literary critics (Kenneth Burke,

Wayne Booth), rhetoricians (Richard Weaver, Edwin Black) began to resurrect classical

(Aristotelian) notions of rhetoric, and to apply the new philosophies of language (most notably structuralism) to the study of literary texts and argumentation. Kenneth Burke was one of the first and most vigorous critics of the modernist view. His first major theoretical work, Counter-Statement, is a critique of literary formalism. Burke argues against the New Critics and others who advocated the study of texts in themselves, and who saw literary form as “the externalization of the form of an idea” (Heath 1986: 48). Burke had experimented as a writer and a critic with formalist notions of language, but he subsequently tried to develop an aesthetic that took into account the relationship between art and society. Lentricchia argues that what Burke tried to show is that all art, including art conceived as solely an experiment with form or representation, is first and foremost a political act. The mandate of Counter-Statement was to “drive modernism toward [the] political and social consequences that [are] inherent in its project though not often intended and certainly not wanted” (Lentricchia 1983: 88). This perspective has obvious affinities with the classical view of rhetoric, and Burke tries to outline the place of rhetoric in art—not by abandoning the notion of aesthetics altogether—but by charging it with rhetorical purpose. Form, Burke pragmatically suggests, is a product based on audience appeal. Form is the creation and satisfaction of expectations or, more 82 fully, a process of identification between author, audience, and the ideological system within which a rhetorical form acquires meaning and power. Form is an act of communication.

If Burke was critical of the formalist approach, then he had even less patience with referential notions of language. Burke argues that the objective of logical positivism is,

to evolve a vocabulary that gives the name and address ofevery event in

the universe ... Logical positivism would point to events. It would attempt to describe events after the analogy of the chart (as a map could be said to describe America). (1973: 141, 164)

The problem with the positivist objective is that it reduces language to a mechanical tool.

Logical positivism wants to “get a description by the elimination of attitude”, to sanitize language so that descriptions of reality are either true or false (1973: 147-8). Burke argues that this ideal is unobtainable, that it is impossible to develop a vocabulary that enables its users to stand aside from their subjects. Language, including the language of science, is always weighted with attitude, it is always directed, always purposeful.

Burke proposes, consequently, that what we need is a notion of language that takes into account the impulse that “motivates perception, giving it both intensity and direction, suggesting what to lookfor and what to look outfor” (1973: 164). The accuracy of a description cannot be disposed of, from this perspective, on a true or false basis; its accuracy can only be evaluated by “filling it out”, by demonstrating its range, relevancy, and utility. Burke argues that “There is no formal procedure, for example, for choosing among ... metaphors ... One can simply ask that the contestants advocate their choice by filling it out”, by giving it body. The best metaphor is the one with which one can do 83

most (1973: 144-146). Such a test is similar to Rorty’s idea that a good vocabulary is

one that gets things done that could not be done before.

In opposing humanist and positivist views of language, Burke clearly advocates a

return to a classical conception of rhetoric as the means of persuasion. Burke, in fact,

considers his view of rhetoric as an extension of Aristotle’s. Yet, in arguing the value of

Aristotle’s as well as Cicero’s and Quintilian’s ideas, Burke also suggests that

contemporary rhetoricians must update classical rhetoric to interpret the cuntnt means

and strategies of communication (Heath 1986: 200-204). In his Rhetoric ofMotives,

for instance, Burke both demonstrates how a ‘modern’ theory of rhetoric can be

developed by choosing alternative starting points from classical rhetoric (the principle of

identification rather than persuasion), and shows how his revised perspective

accommodates and extends traditional theories and methods. Burke was not alone in

promoting the rhetorical theories of the classical Greeks. Weaver (1975), for instance,

leans heavily on Aristotle as well as Plato in making his arguments for a renewed rhetorical practice. ‘The New Rhetoric’ of Burke, Booth, Perelman, Toulmin and others

shares with the classical perspective a belief that rhetoric concerns audience oriented- communication (that rhetoric is explicitly concerned with persuading an audience to

accept an idea or adopt a course of action), and that all types of audiences (legal, scientific, literary, and political) are concerned with its effects.2’

While the New Rhetoricians drew from classical rhetoric, they also move beyond it, enlarging its scope and its methods. Aristotle’s definition of rhetoric addresses only communication that was overtly argumentative, polemical, and manipulative. Burke argues, in contrast, that subtle forms of communication—be they poetic or scientific— also influence people’s actions and attitudes, and thus should also come within the province of rhetoric. 84 There is an intermediate area of expression that is not wholly deliberate, yet not wholly unconscious. It lies midway between aimless utterance and speech directly purposive. For instance, a man who identifies his private ambitions with the good of the community may be partly justified, partly unjustified. He may be using a mere pretext to gain individual advantage at the public expense; yet he may be quite sincere, or even may willingly make sacrifices in behalf of such identification. Here is a rhetorical, area not analyzable either as sheer design or as sheer simplicity. (1969b: xiii-xiv)

To include these forms and purposes, Burke proposes that identification—and not

persuasion—is the central objective of rhetoric. Identification refers to the elemental relationship between an author or speaker and the audience. It is concerned with the relationship between individuals, with how people come to associate or distance

themselves with one another, a group, movement, or ideal (Fogarty 1968; Nichols

1968).22 Identification, Burke argues, is also a prerequisite for persuasion: it is the

common ground that author and audience must share for communication to take place.

The audience, Burke contends, must be able, at the bare minimum, to recognize and

associate (align) themselves with the author and issues at hand (even if they find them

disagreeable or distasteful) before they can be persuaded. Identification thus concerns

the common assumptions or subtle ways authors present themseIves, their audiences, and the relationship between them.

Burke’s definition of rhetoric as identification has its most obvious implications

for the study of acts of socialization. Symbols of social status and nationalism, the ideas

of the sermon and the lecture, and the jargon of ‘bureaucracy’ all come within its province (Burke 1969b: 35; 1973: 227). However, Burke also extends the rhetoric of identification into the ‘autonomous’ spheres of literature, science, and the market. These

spheres of communication often appear to lack a rhetorical motive persuasively 85 conceived, and, in fact, participants frequently promote such appearances. Burke suggests, nevertheless, that “the fact that an activity is capable of reduction to intrinsic, autonomous principles does not argue that it is free from identification with other orders of motivation extrinsic to it”. Any activity, no matter how specialized, partakes and contributes, and thereby identifies, with a larger unit of action. ‘Identification’ refers to the relationship between an act and its wider context, even if that context is a place with which the agent is unconcerned (Burke 1969b: 27). To illustrate this argument, Burke points to the close but usually unacknowledged association between science, technology, and the politics of imperialism.23 Education is another example of unconscious identification, both in the sense that education involves the sharing and promotion of a perspective, and more generally in the association of education with social class, that is, as a way of acquiring or flaunting the symbols of social privilege. He also sees identification at work in the market place and political arena. Building on Marx, Burke argues that the division of labour in capitalist society heightens the identification between people and the labour they perform at the same time it mystifies the larger identifications within which that labour takes place. Burke suggests that although,

The extreme division of labor under late capitalist liberalism ha[s] made dispersion the norm and ha[sJ transformed the state of Babel into an ideal, the principles of a specialty cannot be taken on their face, simply as the motives proper to that specialty. They are the motives proper to the specialty as such, but not to the specialty as participant in a wider context of motives. (1969b: 30-31)

Burke consequently sees the division of labour as a rhetorical strategy. It is a form of identification that helps maintain order in class societies by disguising (or hiding) the actual identifications upon which its social hierarchies depend. Valesio (1980) picks up on this idea in a discussion of the relationship between ideology and rhetoric. Valesio 86

defines ideology as decayed rhetoric, as “rhetoric that is no longer the detailed expression

ofstrategies at work in specific discourses” (1980: 66). Ideological arguments are thus

ones that draw upon established identifications, rather than upon overtly persuasive

positions. In this sense Burke’s notion of identification is very similar to Gramsci’s

notion of ideology insofar as both encompass the unconscious, the ‘natural’, and the ‘non-rhetorical’ (Scult 1985).

Recent Trends in Rhetoric

The attacks of the New Rhetoricians’ on modernist theories of language have not gone

unchallenged. Burke has been accused of blurring the line between poetry and rhetoric,

and of diverting rhetoricians’ attention from long established disciplinary concepts

(Heath 1986: 199). Howell, for instance, argues that whereas poetry concerns the

imaginary, rhetoric is properly concerned “with statements about actual realities” (Heath

1986: 199). Heath suggests that this view has merit within the classical tradition, in that

it exemplifies the belief that rhetorical statements can be tested against reality and that the job of the critic is to identify and categorize stylistic techniques, and to recommend how they can be refined for greater persuasive effect. However, Howell’s criticisms miss the point of Burke’s perspective. Burke does not see his project as a doing away with classical rhetoric but as an extension, as an opportunity for moving beyond its traditional scope and principles. Burke acknowledges the extreme diversity of communication, and

agrees that this diversity can be categorized in terms of its form and content. He argues, nonetheless, that form and content are important, not in and of themselves, but for what they do. Thus, if a sonnet, a pitch from a soap-box, and a lab report share a similar social intent (or effect)—that is if they share a common perspective—then they are effectively similar forms of communication. Rhetoric is not, consequently, a special form of discourse: it is a natural condition of language, for insofar as any terminology 87

“is partial, or partisan, it is rhetorical” (Burke 1969b: 103). Rhetoric is the means by which people promote and respond to choices that arise out of the limited perspectives that language inevitably presents.

The re-definition and re-invigoration of rhetoric has had at least four important

impacts on the field. Firstly, it has encouraged rhetoricians to examine the status of rhetoric as a method of invention and as a way of ‘knowing’ (ilselling 1976; Vickers

1980). Scott (1967), for instance, suggests that rhetoric is a type of epistemology. He

argues that since we can only come to know ‘reality’ through language, and since language is inherently rhetorical, that rhetoric is intimately bound up in the creation of knowledge. Gregg (1984) supports this view but develops it from an ontological rather than epistemological perspective. Similar to Burke, Gregg claims that the use of rhetoric is a fundamental quality of human experience, that rhetoric is a ‘kind of symbolic creativity fundamental to the experience ‘reality’ and the establishment social groups’ (1984: 10). To demonstrate his position, Gregg examines how play and rituals rhetorically introduce people into social groups, and condition their actions by sanctioning some modes of behaviour and thought and not others. Other rhetoricians have sought a middle ground between these positions and those of modernist philosophers. Croasmun and Cherwitz (1982), and Cherwitz and Hikins (1986), for example, argue that while rhetoric helps “discover” reality, that reality, nevertheless, exists independently of its representation. Specifically they propose a relational ontology that accepts that the world is a subjective entity—that it is socially created—but which also insists that the function of rhetoric is to move social groups to as objective a view as possible of reality. From this perspective, a rhetorical epistemology seeks to discover how we come to know reality through communication, rather than how reality is created by communication. 88

A second impact of the new view of rhetoric is to re-focus research on the

relationship between authors or speakers and their audiences. The connection between

the two halves of communication is fundamental. The new rhetoric is concerned with the pragmatic function of language, with how language is used by one party to influence the actions and attitudes of another. This emphasis reflects, as previously noted, a return to the classical perspective. Contemporary critics, nonetheless, have reworked Aristotle’s ideas in some unique and profitable ways. In particular, I would like to draw attention to

Dillon’s (1986) interpretation of rhetoric as social imagination. Dillon points out that

Aristotle was exclusively concerned with the means a speaker could use to persuade an

immediate audience of listeners. in modern society, thanks to the printing press and the electronic media, communication often takes place between people who are spatially and temporally distant. The specific audience of a text, for instance, is usually unknown to its author, a relation that transforms communication into a relatively anonymous process.

Dillon consequently argues that authors cannot rely solely on the perceived qualities of their audiences (although the widespread use of market surveys at present is an obvious attempt to discover an audience’s characteristics). Instead authors must actively work to project an audience “out of bits of social and linguistic codes” (1986: 15). To illustrate this argument, Dillon proceeds to analyze the various ways in which authors of advice books construct their ‘imagined’ audiences. His analysis is particularly sensitive to the

‘footings’ an author uses to establish a relationship with the audience. In developing his interpretations, Dillon is careful not to suggest that authors are free to construct audiences and footings in any way they like. Authors, he points out, must draw on established cultural codes and stereotypes of interaction in order to construct effective (and profitable) ‘scenes of advising’.25 Dillon argues, nevertheless, that the process of projecting audiences and footings is also creative. He is, in other words, unwilling to describe culture as an abstract or static entity. Authors both draw on and invent 89

communicative conventions. Dillon describes advice writing as a form of ‘culture making’, and predicts that the study of communication as creative interaction must

inevitably “carry [rhetoricians] into models of ‘social reality” (1986: 11).

Thirdly, the new view of rhetoric has broadened the scope of rhetorical studies.

Rhetoric is now thought to include all of the ends and forms of communication (Ehninger

1972; Valesio 1980). Gregg, for instance, proposes that “Rhetorical criticism applies to

any human act, process, product, or artifact which, in the critic’s view, may formulate,

sustain, or modify attention, perceptions, attitudes or behaviour” (Gregg 1984: 137).

Thus, once concerned almost exclusively with the stylistics of literary works, rhetoricians have broadened their mandate to include instances of communication with a

strong persuasive element (political speech, legal triaLs, public debates over abortion and

the environment), as well as those, following Burke’s suggestions, which lie outside the realm of overtly argumentative discourse (medical discoveries, Shakespearian drama, the mass entertainments).26 An example of how the new perspective on rhetoric has

encouraged rhetoricians to venture further abroad is Killingsworth and Steffens’ (1989)

study of the rhetoric of Environmental Impact Statements (EIS). The authors argue that

the EIS is anything but the scientific model of objectivity it is made out to be. While dry

and riddled with jargon, the EIS is also a subtle attempt, they contend, to pacify public

opinion and inhibit action against government sanctioned economic developments. To prove their point, Kiilingsworth and Steffens examine the EIS in terms of its ‘code

words’. Code words are terms that are used in highly specific ways to designate

particular phenomena. Code words, in other words, are used for precision. But they

also segment and insulate insiders from outsiders, and take the edge off politically

volatile perspectives. Code words “drain the emotion and action from social or political

events” by translating human concerns and events into technical issues and objects. 90

Code words are commonly found in large quantities in planning documents, scientific research, medical studies, legal publications, and government reports. Significantly,

Kilhingsworth and Steffens also found an inordinately high frequency of nominals, technical jargon, acronyms, high density graphics, and other lexical items associated with code words in EIS. To illustrate their observations, the authors include samples from several EIS, and compare them with examples of letters submitted by the public to

EIS committees. In the following passages, just over a third of the words in the first two examples taken from EIS fit Klllingsworth and Steffens’ definition of a code word. In contrast, the third passage—taken from a letter written by a member of an affected Native group—contains only a few code words (italicized).

VQLs of preservation, retention, partial retention, modification, and maximum modification are assigned to each based on the inventory criteria. The criteria include visibility, number of viewers, and the uniqueness or variety ofa landscape.

After implementation of the Pasture Capacity LevelAlternative a total of fifteen jobs would be lost. By the end of the short-term use period (20 years) all jobs lost could be regained and seven new jobs would be created. Six subsistence farmers would be reduced to 0 AUMs after implementation of the Pasture Capacity Level Alternative. By the end of the short-term use period (20 years) two of these operators may reenter the livestock industry when vegetative conditions improve. The other four operators would have their grazing use permanently eliminated.

I am 72 years old and most of these years are spent in this area. I can truthfully say, there is never any cause to be alarmed about the range conditions out there. I have seen it at its best and I have seen it at its worst. But there never was a time I could be afraid of seeing it dry up completely. It’s true our rainfall is not as heavy as other places in the state. Neither is it as frequent as other places. But when it does start raining we get plenty of it. Our range becomes beautiful. Forage for the 91 cattle becomes plentiful. For some reason we are never given credit for what we have. They seem to forget a cow does not live on grass alone. They need variety like humans. (Killingsworth and Steffens 1989: 159, 164, 169-70)

Killingsworth and Steffens go on to explain that codes are not only common in EIS but that they are actually encouraged in EIS handbooks for reasons of economy and objectivity. The stated purpose of an EIS is to provide an unbiased assessment of the environmental implications of a proposed action such that government officials, business representatives, and the public can make effective decisions concerning that action.

Killingsworth and Steffens claim, however, that the actual effect of an EIS’ rhetoric of objectivity is to reify the relationship between people and the environment, and to exclude, rather than include, the public in the decision making process. The rhetoric of the average EIS is both inaccessible to the public, and tends to reconstitute their interests and relations in the mechanical language of ecology or economics. The landscape is thereby shorn of its residents. All that remains are supposedly natural (and quantifiable) processes. In the end, the rhetoric of the EIS is about power, and, in particular, about preserving power in the hand of the companies or groups whose (proposed) actions the

EIS addresses. The real purpose of the EIS, Killingsworth and Steffens contend, is not

to inform action, as originally intended, but to “forestall ... legal action against the

agency in question ... by producing enough paper to smother any efforts to redirect bureaucratic action” (Killingsworth and Steffens 1989: 174-175).

A fourth and related impact of the new defmition of rhetoric is that rhetoricians now use a broader set of the methods and theories. In the past, rhetorical studies have had a negative reputation for being solely concerned with the identification and classification of figures of speech. Like ‘capes and bays’ regional geography, rhetorical research in the nineteenth century generally did not connect its material with larger social 92 and historical contexts, or display an awareness of the political significance of the material it examined. Since then, rhetoricians have expanded their tool kits by borrowing ideas and methods from a variety of fields including philosophy (the analysis of speech- acts, arguments, logic, and reasoning), literary criticism (narrative and genre based approaches), sociology (role analysis), cultural studies (myth and fantasy analysis), and most recently poststructuralism (deconstructionism, feminism, postmarxism). Stylistic criticism remains important, but it too has changed, focussing on the relationship between a text’s form, lexical content, syntactical structure, and imagery, and its suasory qualities (Brock, Scott and Chesebro 1990; Foss 1990; Hart 1990). The Killingsworth and Steffens (1989) study described above is an example of ‘updated’ stylistic analysis.

Their study contrasts sharply, however, with the approach taken by Miller (1984) in her analysis of the rhetoric of Environmental Impact Statements. Instead of focussing on a few salient components, Miller examines the EIS as a genre of communication. In particular, she tries to establish whether the EIS constitutes a genre, that is if it represents an established way of addressing communicative situations. A genre is a class of messages that share a common form (recurring stylistic qualities) and content, and which seek to motivate common actions and attitudes. Genres are important because they define expectations on both the part of the writer and reader, and, as a result, both enable and constrain communication (Campbell and Jamieson 1976). Genres enable communication by providing ready styles that authors can use to communicate motives in specific situations. Genres mediate, in other words, between private intentions and social contexts (Miller 1984). Miller argues, furthermore, that genres acquire their rhetorical force through their acceptance as ‘natural’ ways of reading and writing ourselves and others. Generic strategies are conventional strategies. Their status as interpretations is usually obvious only from a distance, either temporally, spatially, or culturally. Genres constrain communication by placing limits on what can be said 93

(effectively). They direct attention in specific directions and, insofar as they are

conventional, inhibit the development of new perspectives. Generic criticism is thus

similar in focus and scale to studies by Pratt (1985; 1992) that try to identify how the

colonial attitudes of early European travellers and explorers in the southern hemisphere

were expressed in the rhetoric of their texts. Because they emphasize broader patterns,

genres function as cultural (rather than authorial) indices. In line with these points,

Campbell and Jamieson (1986) suggest that generic criticism should focus on the ways

authors and audiences come to share ways of seeing, and how shifts in the rhetoric of a

genre signal the reorientation, fragmentation, or breakdown in those agreed ways of

presenting and interpreting. In her study, Miller ultimately concludes that the EIS does

not constitute a genre. While she acknowledges that the EIS represents “a clearly defmed class of documents”, she also feels there are too many rhetorical dissimilarities between

statements for them to qualify as a “normative whole that we can consider a cultural

artifact ... a representation of reasoning and purposes characteristic of a culture” (1984:

164-5). This conclusion is challenged by Killingsworth and Steffens. They suggest that

more recent attempts to legislate a standard style has eliminated much of the eclectic

borrowing from science, planning, and environmentalism that characterized these documents in the past (1989: 176-7).

Like other fields in the humanities and social sciences, rhetoric has also felt the

impact of poststructuralism, although its reception has not been consistent.27 In contrast

to earlier practices, poststructualist critics focus as much on what is not in a text (its

‘absences’) as on what it contains. They are also interested in uncovering a text’s

inconsistencies and underlying (unstated) assumptions (abstraction, absolutes, hierarchies), and in developing a much stronger political stance towards criticism. The

latter tendency is particularly evident in the arguments of Marxist and feminist 94

poststructuralist critics. Poststructuralists also tend to draw bolder links between diverse

materials, and have perhaps gone further than other rhetoricians in applying rhetorical

criticism to texts whose immediate objective is not to address an audience, but to comment on the nature of language itself (Robinson 1987). The literary critic Frederic

Jameson, for instance, describes Joyce’s Ulysses—commonly considered the pinnacle

of high modernist literature in its abstract concern with style—as one of the most

informative and instructive interpretations of the landscape of the modem city. It is, he

writes, a “monumental autopsy” of “classical capitalism in its classical era of

development”. Jennifer Wicke takes this argument one step further in Advertising

Fictions. Wicke makes the controversial claim that Joyce’s language of high modernism is patterned after the techniques of advertising.29

Advertising language out in the actual streets turns the tricks that Ulysses then imports into its structures—on a strictly formalist level, the innovations flow from the mass cultural paradigm to the novelistic techniques, and not in the reverse order. The whole book performs a tango with advertisement, and is set to its music. (Wicke 1988: 123)

Wicke argues that advertisements, and more broadly the language of advertising, fix and

locate Joyce’s characters in the geography of Dublin. This is particularly true for Bloom

who is employed in the advertising industry. “City geography,” Wicke writes, “is laid

down by markets and promotion as much as by traditional landmarks for Bloom and part of his intimate knowledge of it is in measuring how the lines of communication between establishment and prospective customer will be arranged” (1988: 131). Ulysses can be read, Wicke claims, as an analysis of how human subjects, their culture, and their

environments are made by the language of advertising. The landscapes described by

Joyce are not, however, the well structured and topographic landscapes that have traditionally attracted humanist geographers. In Ulysses, the landscape of Dublin is a 95 collage of communication, social relations, money, and the efforts to obtain it. It is a

landscape whose meaning is flowing and ambiguous—a landscape that must be continuously re-established, renegotiated, and paid for. In making these assertions,

Wicke examines a broad selection of Joyce’s stylistic techniques. The force of her argument, however, derives from her complementary research into the evolving

relationship between literature and advertising. This approach, she claims, is the only

safe way to approach literature where style reigns supreme. Efforts to categorize strictly

the techniques of Joyce or other ‘sophisticated’ authors are bound to fail amid purposeful contradictions and inventions.

Rhetoric and Presentations of Landscape

Before concluding this chapter, I would like to return to geography and suggest how the contemporary view of rhetoric affects the interpretation of presentations of landscape. A rhetorical perspective, I will argue, influences the status of landscape as a component of

‘reality’, the relationship between language and landscape, the types of ‘landscapes’ that can be studied, the types of methods used, and the contexts open to study.

Perhaps the most important implication of a rhetorical perspective concerns the status of landscape. A rhetorical perspective rejects the idea that landscapes have transcendent qualities, or that the experience of landscape reflects trans-historical and trans-cultural human qualities. It also rejects the position that the meaning of landscape is rooted in history or cemented in the material conditions of society. Instead, a rhetorical perspective holds that the meaning of a landscape is dynamic and multifaceted, that it continuously emerges through cultural communication. Landscapes are acts: acts of presentation and acts of interpretation. Presentations of landscape are, nevertheless, no less real than the material environment; the rhetorical strategies for presenting 96 landscapes have public content; and in so far as strategies influence a person’s attitudes

or actions, then the strategies and the landscapes they present are real.

A second implication of a rhetorical approach concerns its perspective on presentations of landscape as social acts. Presentations are always directed at an

audience for the purpose of influencing their attitudes and actions. These purposes, and

the means by which authors try to achieve them, are sometimes explicit. For example,

adventure tourism texts occasionally define their ideal ‘audience’ in no uncertain terms: the adventure tourist has “a spirit of adventure, an open mind, the desire to enjoy a

different kind of holiday and to see more of the country than just the main sights”. But more often the rhetoric of identification is implicit, a product of the style of the text, its modes of address, and terminology. A rhetorical perspective suggests that a landscape is created both in and through its presentation. Thus, while humanist research primarily focuses on the referential content of literature, a rhetorical perspective suggests that how

a landscape is presented is often just as important as, or perhaps even more important than, what is presented. This orientation also differentiates rhetoric from semiotics and

deconstructionism to the degree that the latter are usually more concerned with a text’s logical coherence, referential components, and structures than with its persuasive functions. Deconstructionism, for instance, is primarily concerned with a text’s

inconsistencies in light of the problematic and “polysemous” interpretations of ‘reality’

language provides (Hart 1990: 387-9). It is less attentive to the persuasive methods

authors try to use to influence an audience’s beliefs and actions (Southwell 1987).

The idea that landscapes acquire meaning through the rhetorical style in which

they are presented is similar to the notion Goffman develops in his Presentation ofSefin

Everyday Life. Goffman argues that people actively acquire information about a person

through observing his or her conduct, appearance, and the context in which they act, and 97

that these rhetorical “sign-vehicles” are managed to convey particular impressions.

Taken together, this give and take of impressions works to defme social relationships, enabling people to “know in advance what is expected in terms of behaviour” (1959: 1).

It is also similar to the idea that landscape is a “way of seeing”, that what really counts is not what is seen, but the techniques by which they are seen. Perspectivism, objectivism, and the aesthetic principles of correct composition are, in other words, the equivalent of a text’s rhetorical style. However, unlike Cosgrove I am not arguing that landscape is a way of seeing inherently tied to capitalist ideology. The character of a landscape depends on the particular characteristics of the rhetorical situation in which it is presented.

A third implication of a rhetorical perspective is that it opens up the types of presentations of landscape for study. The approach advocated herein holds that all presentations, regardless of content, are rhetorical. Even the literary presentations preferred by humanist geographers are rhetorical, and therefore potentially suitable for study. They are not privileged forms of communication but one of many rhetorical strands in the discourse of culture. Literature shares equal rhetorical footing with advertising, the electronic media, government documents, scientific papers, and community histories because they all present perspectives on landscape. Thus, whether a presentation of landscape is worth studying, is not determined by the overtness of its rhetoric, but by the research at hand.

A fourth implication of a rhetorical perspective is that it encourages cultural geographers to explore a broader range of interpretive methods than they currently use.

Humanist geographers rarely draw from the methods of literary criticism (Porteous

1985). Salter and Lloyd allow that “geographers stand to benefit from a greater familiarity with the problems and approaches of literature study”; however, they go on to caution that “we should not forget that our ultimate goal is a deeper understanding of 98 geography, not literature, and that we ought to be especially well-versed in the pursuit of the geographic end” (1977: 6). This advice is well put if it is intended to make cultural geographers think twice before they become so wrapped up in questions of literary interpretation that they forget about geography. However, if it is based upon the notion that disciplines are defined in terms of their unique subject matter, and consequently upon differences in kind between landscape and language, then this advice is misplaced.

My argument is that landscape and its rhetorical presentation are one and the same and that it is frequently imperative to use a variety of rhetorical methods to acquire a ‘deeper understanding’ of landscape. In fact, in order to study seriously presentations of landscapes, geographers are obligated, I believe, to experiment with a wider variety of methods—and in greater critical detail—than they have in the past. Geographers have begun to move in this direction, as evident in the recent growth of semiotic, deconstructionist, hermeneutical, and even rhetorical studies of landscapes. However, it is somewhat paradoxical, in light of the criticism directed at humanism’s failure to embrace literary methods of interpretation (Daniels 1985), that some communicative and

Marxist geographers are still themselves reluctant to explore fully the methods they advocate. A case in point is a recent comment by Eyles (1987) in a paper entitled

“Housing Advertisements as Signs: Locality Creation and Meaning Systems”. Eyles writes, “As this paper is concerned with the effects of signification, the unraveling of the processes of self-authorship and domination, it is not considered necessary to locate the sign in the formal characteristics of semiotic theory or structuralist analysis” (1987: 95).

This conclusion is the opposite of the expected. If one wants to study housing advertising as signs and their role in the process of “self-authorship”, then it is imperative to explain one’s theoretical assumptions about how those signs acquire, store, and transfer meaning.30 Eyles justifies his decision with reference to Rapoport’ s (1982) dismissal of semiotics on the belief that much of the empirical work in this approach does 99 not draw upon its own theories of interpretation. This response, however, only throws into question Eyles’ initial decision to interpret housing advertising as signs and thus the soundness of his own interpretations. The only way to fully embrace semiotics, deconstructionism, rhetoric, or iconology, is to set these ‘boundary conscious’ attitudes aside and—taking a cue from behavioural geographers—become proficient in the theory and use of these new methods.

A fifth implication of rhetoric concerns the meaning of the term context. I noted in the previous chapter that any perspective—any terminological screen—will highlight some elements of ‘reality’ but underemphasize others. Context is one of the elements de emphasized by a rhetorical perspective. In cultural geography, the term ‘context’ usually signifies the historical and geographical situation in which an event or set of events take place. Context thus refers to a fairly broad range of activities and elements including economic structures, ideology, and culture. Context is also a common term in rhetorical studies.31 It is, however, typically applied in a narrower sense. By context, rhetoricians commonly refer to the immediate “rhetorical situation” in which communication takes place. The rhetorical situation may include accepted rhetorical conventions and referents that collectively form genres (themes, styles), the medium used, physical, social, and topical settings, the purpose of communication, the roles played by authors, and the composition of audiences and their relationships to society. Hart acknowledges that a rhetorical situation can and should also include the broader social and cultural contexts in which communication is embedded, but which may not be directly addressed (Hart 1990:

73). Hart welcomes, for instance, the recent contributions that poststructural approaches such as deconstructionism, hermeneutics, feminism, and some varieties of Marxism have made to rhetorical analysis. These perspectives place greater emphasis on the ideological context of communication, on how specific practices willingly or unwillingly participate 100 in the construction of cultural norms. Branham and Pearce (1985) suggest that there has been a “rapproachment” between the poststructural and social scientific view of context, and that traditionally held by rhetoricians insofar as practitioners of both have argued for a “reflexive” appreciation of the relationship between texts and contexts. A reflexive perspective acknowledges that “Texts are constituted by their enmeshment in contexts,

[and that] contexts are themselves created and sustained by texts”—that “Particular communicative acts simultaneously depend upon and reconstruct existing contexts”

(Branham and Pearce 1985: 21, 19). A reflexive perspective “violates” the traditional understanding of contexts as stable, objective entities that can and should “be kept separate from that which they contextualize”. Branham and Pearce argue, nonetheless, that the reflexive approach provides a more ‘realistic’ view of the constraints and expectations that contexts place on communication, and of the opportunities and choices rhetors face in molding contexts for a specific audience.

While the meaning of context has broadened in recent research, many rhetoricians still hold that the “message is the rhetorical critic’s touchstone” (Hart 1990: 73).

Rhetorical criticism is internal criticism with a social conscience—it is interested in the specific strategies of communication in a text, and in the interactions between a text, author, and audience (Corbett 1969: xxii). Rhetoric, Miller (1984) suggests, mediates between private (specific) intentions and social (recurrent) actions. Rhetorical criticism might thus be described as an ‘intermediate’ perspective on communication (Rydin and

Myerson 1989: 467).32 Rhetoric approaches communication as a combination of lexicons, styles, syntax, imagery, authorial roles, and genres. It is less concerned, although recognizing their importance, with the smaller elements of communication

(pronunciation, locution, and speech acts), and with the larger forums (forms of life, culture, human nature) in which communication participates (Miller 1984). This 101 perspective and its contextual implications may be attributed to rhetoric’s particular stance toward texts and communication. Rhetorical criticism analyzes texts “not for what they are but for what they do, namely, how they change the world outside the work”

(Goodwin 1993: 177). Rhetorical criticism is less concerned, in other words, with the composition (linguistics), meaning (hermeneutics),33 or logic (deconstructionism)34 of a text as with its pragmatic function. This perspective on communication and its contexts does not mean that geographers must abandon cultural interpretations in order to use the theories and methods of rhetoric. It implies, however, that a shift in emphasis is necessary to appreciate fully how rhetoric functions as a means of communication between authors (or speakers) and their audiences. It implies also that rhetorical analysis often has an underdeveloped view of context, in the less immanent, historical sense, than other standpoints.35

Conclusion

Rhetoric provides a rich set of ideas and methods for cultural geographers interested in communicative landscapes. Rhetoric provides a means for moving beyond the point where we argue that landscape is created through communication, and begin to interpret how language creates landscapes. Rhetoric is of course not the only approach for investigating communication. Deconstructionism, semiotics, and iconography also have strong advocates in cultural geography. Yet, rhetoric’s emphasis on language as a means of social interaction—its primary interest in the relationship between authors and audiences rather than between language and reality—and its wide range of techniques recommend it to cultural geographers.

The use of rhetoric does, nevertheless, come with a price. In choosing rhetoric, cultural geographers must fully accept that landscapes are a product of communication. 102

This acceptance involves giving up the comfortable physical landscapes that colour the work of traditional geographers. Spaces, places, and environments become linguistic constructions, only interpretable through the veil of language. Rhetoric also involves giving up the belief that landscapes have some intrinsic meaning, or that language provides a special insight into the true meaning of human experience. From a rhetorical perspective, language actively creates ‘reality’, but it does not provide the ‘window on

the world’ that some humanists seek (Tuan 1975) . Rhetoric is useful for examining the struggle over landscape, and its use in motivating the actions and beliefs of others. As such, rhetoric provides a useful method for the cultural geographer who believes that culture is an on-going creation—an act that is forever in the process of being appropriated, re-defined, and defended. A rhetorical landscape is a presented landscape, and a presented landscape is always an interpretation of who we are—or, more to the point, who we should be.

Notes

‘Cosgrove and Jackson (1987) argue that the metaphor of text is insufficient to the degree that it does not take landscape’s intellectual and social context as a visual concept into account.

2Daniels (1992) suggests that Turner’s painting was rejected as a frontispiece for a book on Leeds because its imagery contrasted strongly with the authors ‘critical’ appraisal of the city.

3Barthes (1976) alternatively describes systems of meaning as historical grammars or, more simply, as myths.

4Phenomenological notions of authenticity have led humanist geographers to criticize overtly ‘persuasive’ forms of communication such as advertising. Advertising is associated with the inauthentic representation of landscape. It is thought to characterize landscape primarily as a commodity and thus to override the intentional experience of place (Reiph 1976).

5The postmodern concern over ‘who is an author’ has not been addressed by humanist geographers. Instead the status of the author as the “keen observer” has been accepted and promoted uncritically (Silk 1984). In fact, the author has been occasionally held up as a model to which geographers should aspire. Tuan writes: “The model for the 103

regional geographer of humanistic learning is ... the Victorian novelist who strives to achieve a synthesis of the subjective and the objective” (Tuan 1978). Meinig (1983), Pocock (1981), and Mallory and Simpson-Housley (1987) make similar arguments.

6Corbett comments: “When rhetorical criticism is applied to imaginative literature, it regards the work not much as an object of contemplation but as an artistically structured instrument for communication” (1969: xxii)

7J borrowed the word ‘presentation’ from the title of Goffman’s classic work The Presentation ofSelf in Everyday Life (1959). I wish to use ‘presentation’ in the same way Goffman uses it to identify directed, symbolic performances. I subsequently discovered that Pratt (1985) also refers to the ‘presentation of landscape’ in her essay “Scratches on the Face of the Country”.

8The conflict between rhetorical and philosophical modes of thought can be traced back much further, at least to the Socratic dialogues of Plato (IJselling 1976).

9The passage by Descartes is from a letter to Regius, quoted in IJsseling (1976: 62). John Locke (1975), An Essay on Human Understanding, P. Nidditch (ed), Oxford Univ. Press, Book II, chapter 10, p. 1. Immanuel Kant, W. Pluhar (trans) (1987), Critique ofJudgment, Indianapolis: Hackett.

10Vickers (1985) makes this point in his study of the rhetoric of the Royal Society. However, Vickers also makes the point that the ‘scientific’ attitude did not constitute an all out attack on rhetoric, but only on certain styles of rhetoric. Vicker’ s point is well taken from a broad perspective where even the scientistic point of view is seen as a rhetorical one. Nevertheless, we cannot escape the fact that many scientists, philosophers, and artists substantiated their rhetoric by suggesting that it was something other than rhetoric, namely a reflection of the truth.

11The separation of subject and object, mind and body was not of course invented by Descartes. These concepts date to the earliest dialogues of western culture. What Descartes and his contemporaries did was to recast them in a new vocabulary such that knowledge became a quality of consciousness distinct from reality. Such a distinction, as Rorty shows, did not exist in Greek thought (see Rorty 1979, especially pages 38- 61).

‘2Although it is commonplace to distinguish between essence and existence (a derivative of substance), words from both families are used to refer to fundamental qualities. Philosophically speaking, the difference between these families is that esse implies identity or equality between things, while substance or stance refers to the relation between a thing and its context.

13Appropriately, Descartes discontinued his education in preference for wandering about Europe, meeting people and seeing places first hand. As IJselling comments, Descartes “no longer want[ed] to look for any knowledge other than that which is to be found in the book of life” (1976: 63). 104

‘4This section is patterned after Burke’s analysis of the term ‘substance’ and his discussion of metonymy and synecdoche in A Grammar ofMotives (1969a, see especially pages 21-29 and 505-511). See also Grassi (1980), Olsson (1975), Norris (1983).

‘5Harvey on Saunders and Williams: “This rhetoric is dangerous for it avoids confronting the realities of political economy and the circumstances of global power” (1987: 375, my emphasis). Smith on Harvey’s critics: “Much of the response to Harvey wifi undoubtedly comprise a rhetorical outrage at the style of his intervention, and while perhaps understandable as a personal response, it would be very sad were this to dominate the debate” (1987: 378, my emphasis).

‘6This quote is taken from Billinge’ s essay on the “Mandarin dialect” of humanistic geography (1983: 403). Billinge argues that contemporary geographical writing is characterized by florid but banal prose. He calls for a return to a journalistic mode where the emphasis is on “honesty of intention and meaning”, rather than on the well turned phrase. This article is a good example of the view of rhetoric as style. He does not consider the relationship between rhetoric and geographic knowledge, something which must be done if one wants to understand the motivation behind, for example, Olsson’s and Pred’s experiments with language.

‘7Hexter was one of the first to explicitly examine the rhetoric of historical research. He suggests that “history is not necessarily and not always directly concerned with explanation even in the broadest tolerable sense of that term. A quite legitimate concern of many historical accounts is ... to confront the readers with a human situation and to enhance their awareness of it” (1971: 274). As a result he proposes that “in the interest of conveying historical reality to the reader with maximum impact, the rules of historiography may sometimes require a historian to subordinate completeness and exactness to other considerations” (1971: 312). Works of history, and others have argued science in general, are not accepted or rejected with reference to the strict canons of formal logic, but according to their reasonableness given the received ‘knowledge’, methods, and interests of the text’s audience (Prelli 1989). This interpretation of research comes much closer to the goal Meinig sets for his own texts, and would have provided I believe a much more profitable starting point than a theory of representation. So, in contrast to Symanski’s belief that Hexter confuses ‘selling’ history with ‘telling’ history, my argument is that Symanski confuses correspondence with knowledge.

‘8See Lyne (1985), Nelson and Megill (1986), and Simons (1990) for overviews of the rhetoric of inquiry.

‘9The work of Clifford Geertz (1988) and Hayden White (1973) are the two examples that come immediately tO mind. Also important are studies by Marcus and Fischer (1986), McCloskey, (1985), and Clifford (1988). Nelson, McGill and McCloskey (1987) provide a sampling of the rhetoric of inquiry in a variety of social sciences. Studies of the rhetoric of the physical and medical sciences include Billig’s (1987) Arguing and Thinking: A Rhetorical Approach to Social Psychology, Bazerman’s 105

(1988) Shaping Written Knowledge: The Genre andActivity of the ExperimentalArticle in Science, and Prelli’s (1989) A Rhetoric ofScience.

20See, for example, Harley’s (1988) and Pickles’ (1992) studies of the use of maps in propaganda as well as Harley’s (1992) attempts to deconstruct the ‘rules’ of cartography. Metaphorical analyses are found in Barnes (1989; 1991; 1992) and Livingstone and Harrison (1981). Gregory’s (1993) recent book might also be placed in this category, concerned as it is with how geographers and others have responded to the ‘crisis of representation’ in the social sciences.

21The expression ‘the new rhetoric’ is from Fogarty’s (1968) book of the same name.

22The notion of identification does not originate with Burke. It is featured, for instance, in Book Two of Aristotle’s Rhetoric. Here Aristotle discusses the range of emotions speakers can draw upon, their relation to different audiences, and the different lines of argument and opinions the speaker can employ. These resources or common-places as Aristotle refers to them are the means by which speakers can favourably connect with their audiences: “Since rhetoric exists to affect the giving of decisions ... the orator must not only try to make the argument of his speech demonstrative and worthy of belief; he must also make his own character look right and put his hearers, who are to decide, into the right frame of mind” (Aristotle 1984: 60-62, 90; Burke 1969b: 55). Burke is also aware that the principle of identity is central to theories of representation, that it refers to the quality of the relationship between an idea (or image) and its referent. Burke argues, however, that identification is not a static property but rather a relation that must be continually established through language. Identification, Burke argues, involves “the possibilities of classification in its partisan aspects” (1969b: 22).

23Burke wastes no words here: “Insofar as a faulty political structure perverts human relations, we might reasonably expect to find a correspondingly perverted science And it is relevant here to recall those specialists whose technical training fitted them to become identified with mass killings and experimentally induced sufferings in the concentration camps of National Socialist Germany”. He also points out that “in the United States after the second World War, the temptation of such an identification [between science and warj became particularly strong because so much scientific research had fallen under the direction of the military. To speak merely in praise of science, without explicitly dissociating oneself from its reactionary implications, is to identify oneself with these reactionary implications by default. Many reputable educators could thus, in this roundabout way,function as ‘conspirators.’ In their zeal to get federal subsidies for the science department of their college or university, they could help to shape educational policies with the ideals of war as guiding principle” (Burke 1969b: 29, 26-27, 30). Olsson makes virtually these same comments about the relationship between positivist geography as an academic practice and the ‘rational’ methods of planning through which people are reduced to one-dimensional entities (1975; 1984). See also Buttimer’s (1986) suggestive comments on the prestige of geography during times of war.

See also Burke’s discussion of Marx’s notion of ideology (1969b: 101-110). 106

Dilon’s interpretation, as he is well aware, has strong affinities with Burke’s notion of identification.

26A sample of recent rhetorical analysis includes Hariman’s (ed) Popular Trials: Rhetoric, Mass Media, and the Law (1990), Young and Launer’s Flights ofFancy, Flight ofDoom: KAL 007 and Soviet-American Rhetoric (1988), Leeman’s The Rhetoric of Terrorism and Counterterrorism (1991), Prelli’s A Rhetoric ofScience: Inventing Scientific Discourse (1989), Condit’s Decoding Abortion Rhetoric: Communicating Social Change (1990), Kimberling’s Kenneth Burke’s Dramatism and the Popular Arts (1982), and Trousdale’s Shakespeare and the Rhetoricians (1982).

27See Hart (1990) and Southwell (1987) for strong criticisms of poststructural methods.

28loyce, himself, was reported to have said that in Ulysses he wanted “to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book” (Delaney, 1981: 10).

29Wicke’ s interpretation of Ulysses is controversial. Nevertheless, her general perspective bears more than a passing similarity to theses put forward by Raymond Williams and Alan Gowans. Both of these critics argue that the modernist distinction between ‘pure’ art and rhetoric is simplistic since works of art that are now appreciated solely for their aesthetic beauty were often conceived with a suasory purpose in mind. Clearly the modernist boundaries between literature and rhetoric have frequently been crossed. Established authors have more than once contributed their talents to propaganda efforts. Conrad, Pound, Doyle and Wells, for instance, all worked for Allied propaganda departments during World War One (Buitenhuis 1987). In the opposite direction, modern advertising industry drew heavily upon the techniques of literature in its initial stages of development in the early to mid 1 800s. In tourist advertising, this relationship was reflected in the CPR’s policy of hiring artists and authors to promote the attractions along its routes. Hitler’s use of fiction and the ideas of leading philosophers and intellectuals to justify his visions of Aryan supremacy is the most infamous example of this collaboration.

30A few sentences later Eyles seems to contradict his earlier statement. “All aspects of culture possess semiotic value and signs can thus be seen as aspects of communication systems governed by semantic rules and codes which are not themselves directly apprehended in experience.” And again: “Social life is impregnated with signs which make it classifiable, intelligible and meaningful. Signs and their codes provide maps of meaning such that they make some meanings available and rule out others” (1987: 95). Surely some kind of assumptions about how these ‘semantic rules and codes’ function are necessary if we are going to make any organized inquiry into how they make life ‘classifiable and intelligible’ through their ‘maps of meaning’.

31Bitzer (1968), for example, argues that rhetoric may be approached as the study of communication as a “fitting response” to a specific situation. He consequently 107

encourages rhetoricians to examine communication for evidence of how an author or speaker adapted to the constraints and opportunties presented by its context.

32Rydin and Myerson (1989: 467) propose that rhetoric has merit as an “everyday’ notion of communication” that knits together the subjective (internal and intentional) and objective (contextual) qualities of language.

33Gadamer proposes that “hermeneutics is a kind of inversion of rhetoric and poetic” in the sense that “Hermeneutics seeks understanding; rhetoric and poetic seek to project understanding into the word” (quoted in Fisher 1985: 355). “Hermeneutics is concerned with the recovery or an appropriation of truth in texts, and rhetoric and poetic are modes of expressing truth; they provide texts” (Fisher 1985: 355).

34Goodwin (1993: 178) suggests that “unlike deconstructionists, rhetorical critics assume and affirm the adequacy of language to communicate intentions and change human behaviour”. See also Paul de Man’s distinction between the grammatical semiology and rhetoric of a text. He argues that “Only if the sign engendered meaning in the same way that the object engenders the sign, that is by representation, would there be no need to distinguish between grammar and rhetoric” (1986: 472).

35j would like to thank David Ley for suggesting this addition. CHAPTER 3

TOURISM:

A REVIEW OF THE

MASS AND POSTMODERN LITERATURE

Tourism has emerged over the last two hundred years as a major component of both

western and non-western societies (MacCannell 1976; Turner and Ash 1975;

Krippendorf 1986). As an economic activity, tourism is on par with the automobile and

oil industries, generating world-wide an estimated $2 trillion in 1987.1 Some predict that

tourism may soon become the world’s largest industry, surpassing even the armaments

economyand the drug trade. Tourism also plays an important role in shaping the

landscape, the way it looks and the way it is perceived. Its impact on the physical and

cultural settings of Niagara Falls, Waikiki, and ports of call in the Mediterranean,

Caribbean, and South Pacific are well recognized. Tourism has similarly had a

significant impact on the perception of peoples and places. Tourism has broadened (at

least in developed countries) the average individual’s ability to experience and envision

the world; but it has, at the same time, created and perpetuated stereotypes of landscapes

and cultures. Tourism is a manifestation and agent of cultural change. Although commonly criticized as a superficial activity, few would deny that tourism has conditioned our relationships with each other and with our environments. As such,

tourism is an important and instructive area of inquiry for students of modern society. In this study, I am particularly interested in what tourism reveals about the presentation of landscape.

The purpose of this chapter is to describe the existing literature on modern2 tourism as it applies to the study that follows. The chapter is broken into two main 108 109

sections. The first reviews the field of tourism geography. Tourism geography is a

small and peripheral field but one that has grown considerably over the last two decades.

Particular attention is paid to recent directions and themes in historical and cultural

research. The emergence of these fields in tourism geography is seen as a positive

development, but it is equally recognized that stronger links need to be developed

between this research and current debates over modem and postmodem culture in the

social sciences. The second section examines the general literature on mass and

postmodem tourism. It argues that mass and postmodem tourism represent two

distinctive varieties and stages of modem tourism that have arisen in response to a variety

of changes in the technology of transportation and communication, the organization of

society, and the aesthetics of scenery, and that these stages are associated with distinct

ways of presenting landscapes. It then proceeds to examine the character of mass

tourism by comparing conservative and ‘alternative’ interpretations of its ‘cultural status’

and impact on the landscape. Conservative research tends to characterize mass tourism

as a superficial and destructive activity. Alternative studies, in constrast, promote a more cautious stance, suggesting that the relationship between mass tourism and contemporary culture is more complex and varied than previously assumed. Defmitions of culture and the relationship between tourism and ideology are highlighted. The section then discusses postmodem tourism and the concept of authenticity. Postmodem tourism is the most recent stage to emerge and is associated with the development of postindustrial society. I argue, following MacCannell (1976) and Cohen (1988), that authenticity is best interpreted as a negotiated commodity rather than as an inherent quality of a culture or landscape. The chapter concludes with a brief reassessment of mass and posiniodem tourism as analytical categories with respect to the interpretation of presentations of tourist landscapes. 110

Tourism Geography: Problems and Prospects

Tourism geography is a comparatively small and new field of research. Although

pioneering studies can be traced back some sixty or seventy years, tourism geography

did not begin to emerge as a distinct field until the late 1960s. Prior to this time, the

literature was scattered and insignificant. Carison’s (1980) bibliographic survey of

tourism geography lists 338 articles; however, only 68 of these were published before

1966. The following paragraphs briefly review the major themes of tourism geography

in the order they have appeared in the literature. The discussion starts with older regional

work, then considers behavioural studies, and concludes with recent cultural and

historical studies on the geography of tourism in North America. Specific attention in the

last part is given to the resort cycle: an idea that has played a prominent role in the historical geography of tourism.

Between the 1920s and the mid 1960s, most research in tourism geography used a regional approach (Smith 1982). Studies of land use patterns, and of the regional

distribution of tourist facilities and attractions mirrored mainstream geography. This research was built on the straightforward premise that the form of a landscape (land-use patterns) is a product of the functions (human activities) it contains. This research tried to document the extent and unique character of tourist landscapes—that is, how tourist landscapes are distinct from those of other economic activities. A clear example of this approach is Jones’ (1933) comparison of the landscapes of Banff and Canmore, Alberta.

Jones argues that the different economic bases of these towns produced distinctive cultural landscapes despite their proximity and their establishment at similar times. In line with its status as a major tourist destination, Jones found that Banff had a higher proportion of rental accommodation (35 percent in Banif, 1 percent in Canmore), a larger yet more specialized commercial sector, and a more regulated and established street 111

layout and zoning pattern. The landscape of Canmore, in contrast, was dominated by the

small and ‘monotonous’ (although well kept) cabins of its coal miners. Canmore’s

economic base was also reflected in its ethnicity (a higher percentage of eastern and

southern Europeans) and leisure activities (hockey and gardening were preferred over

skiing and mountaineering). Other examples of research in this genre include Gilbert’s

(1939; 1949; 1954) well known studies of the growth and morphology of English

seaside resorts. Gilbert argues that seaside resorts have land-use patterns, architecture,

and “occupational peculiarities which differentiate them from” other seaside communities

(fishing ports, industrial centres, break-of-bulk points) and from inland tourist

destinations. In particular, Gilbert draws attention to the linear orientation of seaside

resorts, to their high percentage of service and seasonal labour, and to the relative

predominance of commercial buildings and public parks in their landscape. From a contemporary perspective, these observations are quite pedestrian.4 Gilbert and Jones’ work, however, was typical of much of the research in urban and economic geography at the time. Prior to the so-called ‘quantitative revolution’ in the 1960s, geography and regional studies were synonymous. The primary objective of the geographer was to describe the distribution of people, economic activities, and material culture (house types, field patterns) in a region (Johnston 1979). In fact, Hartshorne, one of the strongest spokespersons for regional studies, argued that regional classification and description was the primary objective of geography (Hartshorne 1939; 1959).

The literature on the geography of tourism, as Carlson’s (1980) survey suggests, expanded quickly during the late 1960s and 1970s.5 Tourism geography grew in response to several factors including the rapid growth of, and economic interest in, domestic and international travel, the general expansion and systematic specialization of research in geography, and the widespread introduction of quantitative techniques and 112

models of spatial interaction and environmental perception. The latter developments

contributed to a multitude of travel behaviour and landscape preference studies. Lucas’s

(1964) classic study of recreational behaviour in northern Minnesota is an early example

of such work. Lucas found that people traveling by motor-boat or by canoe could be

differentiated according to their attitudes toward the environment and fellow

recreationists. In particular, Lucas reported that canoeists would modify their routes and

destinations when ‘confronted’ by boaters. Canoeists undertook these evasive

manoeuvres, Lucas suggested, to preserve their perception and sense of being in a

wilderness. Boaters, in contrast, had a much broader and thus less sensitive definition

of wilderness. As such boaters tended to be more tolerant of other travellers regardless

of their mode of travel. Quantitative research at this time was greatly assisted by large

government studies. Surveys such as the Canadian government’s Motivations to Travel

and Vacation Trends6 provided ready empirical data for investigating the demographic

and motivational characteristics of tourists. The resulting studies, excellent surveys of

which are found in Smith (1983) and Smith (1989), have an empirical and

methodological sophistication that is absent in earlier research. Unfortunately, some of

this quantitative work, as was the case in other fields of geography, carried

methodological sophistication to absurd extremes, burying simple data under mounds of

repertory grids and van-max rotations. Some minor cautions about the appropriate use

of quantitative methods have subsequently appeared (Nelson 1984). However, little of

the debate between positivism and humanism that raged in geography in the 1970s made

its way into the tourism literature. By and large, the geography of tourism is still

dominated by positivistic approaches. This dominance is evident both in a heavy emphasis on applied research and in the on-going attempts to develop models of human travel behaviour and resort development.7 113

While behavioural approaches are still dominant, the last fifteen years have been marked by an increase in cultural and historical research. Several books documenting the evolution of tourism in Canada and the United States have been published in recent years

(Wall and Marsh 1982; Wall 1982; Jakie 1985). Special issues and reviews of historical and cultural research have also appeared.8 On the whole, these reviews are optimistic about the potential of research on these topics. Butler and Wall (1985), for instance, have suggested that historical research on the geography of tourism may provide the best avenue yet for tourism geography to contribute to, rather than just borrow from, the theoretical development of the discipline.

The recent interest in historical and cultural research in tourism geography parallels developments in the broader discipline. Over the past decade, cultural and historical research in geography has been revitalized and given renewed importance through the injection of new themes into the discipline. Some geographers have even argued that a historical perspective should be an integral component of all geographical research (Pred 1984; Sayer 1989). Geographers who make this argument are not suggesting that geography is a subfield of history. Rather they are asserting that all human activity takes place in historical context, and that this historical context, as a consequence, plays a prominent role in configuring human behaviour. Research in cultural geography has similarly emphasized that a society’s ideological context—that is, its set of ideas about gender, race, and class—plays an important part in structuring human behaviour. Work in this area has not only produced innovative studies of modern cultures, but also led human geographers to question the categories that they themselves employ in the course of their research. For example, the idea oflàndscape—one of cultural geography’s most important terms—has been the subject of much debate recently

(see Chapter 1). 114

The connection between recent work in tourism geography and trends in the larger discipline are evident in the work of, to name a few, Jakie (1977; 1985), Hugill

(1975), Towner (1985), and Rock (1992). Rock’s study is particularly interesting. His study draws upon the work of Clifford, Lyotard, Marcus and Fisher, and other

‘postmodem’ theorists to analyze the battle for interpretive control over tourist attractions in southwestern Alberta. This area has several major heritage sites (Fort MacLeod,

Frank Slide Interpretive Centre, Remington Alberta Carriage Centre) and Main Street developments (Crownest communities, Fort MacLeod). The area also contains the

Head-Smashed-Tn Buffalo Jump Interpretive Centre. This government financed and owned attraction is remarkable not only for its architecture (it is built into, and is made to look like, the sandstone cliffs in the region), but because it is run in tandem with and staffed almost entirely by the local Native community. This facility comes closest, Rock suggests, to meeting Native demands for interpretive control over their own culture.

However, Rock also questions the government’s motives and the relative emphasis on heritage attractions in light of the fact that two major Native Indian reserves are located in the area. Rock points out that the government is in a difficult situation. On the one hand, the Alberta government is a major promoter of tourism, and thus conventionally adopts a market and investor oriented approach. On the other hand, it is also responsible for protecting and facilitating cultural programs in the province. To uncover the government’s ‘true’ motives, Rock uses postmodem notions of power and “otherness” because they generally “force us to re-examine how we are all implicated in the

domination of others”, and, in particular, challenge the “conventional understanding of how Native cultures, lifeways and histories should be interpreted”. In the end, Rock promotes a “bottom-up” approach to planning tourist attractions, one in which all participants engage in a “cooperative story-telling venture”. 115

Rock’s study illustrates the potential of greater dialogue between tourism geography and cultural and historical studies. However, the present state of interaction should not be over-emphasized. In fact, more than one reviewer has argued that current research in tourism geography—despite its growth in volume and variety—is still theoretically weak (Towner and Wall 1991; Pearce 1993). To support their positions, the reviewers point out that few methodological or theoretical debates have appeared in the literature, and that recent research on the communicative aspects of landscape, the cultural construction of spaces and places, or the development of regional economies in other areas of the discipline have had little impact on tourism geography. For the most part, cultural and historical research has not strayed far from tourism geography’s established (morphological and behavioural) themes and methods.

The Resort Cycle

One good example of how current research in tourism geography has tended to look backwards rather than sideways (or forwards) for inspiration and insight is the resort cycle. The resort cycle is an idea that suggests that tourist destinations pass through a set series of development stages.9 In particular, it identifies five stages of development

(Butler 1980). These stages are referred to as exploration, involvement, development, consolidation, and stagnation. These stages are marked, as their names suggest, by changes in the number of tourists and the rate at which their numbers increase. It has also been suggested that the stages are accompanied by changes in the scale and kind of development, the character of the tourist market, and the attitudes of the host community towards the tourist industry (Butler 1980; Keller 1987). Keller (1987), for instance, argues that the supply of investment capital and the degree of government regulation of a resort changes spatially and institutionally as the resort matures. Typically, control over a resort’s development will pass from local to regional, to national, and ultimately to 116 international organizations. Other studies have combined the cycle with tourism geography’s traditional emphasis on resort morphology, examining how land use patterns change as a resort develops. Meyer-Arendt’s (1985) study of the morphological growth of a coastal resort in Louisiana is a representative example. Meyer-Arendt builds his study around a time-series of maps that show the amount and location of development for each period of the resort’s cycle. These maps are in turn correlated with information concerning the growth in visitation, the rise of a tourist industry, and the public sector’s response to tourism’s social and economic impacts on the community.

Meyer-Arendt does not, however, consider the social organization of space, the symbolic qualities of the resort’s architecture, or the community’s place in a larger tourist economy. The primary objective of this research—as in Gilbert’s studies—is to propose a general model of resort development.

The resort cycle was introduced in tourism geography as a predictive model.

Butler (1980) argued that the cycle could be used as a planning tool to prepare for, and thus hopefully ameliorate the physical and social impacts of a growing tourist trade.

However, initial, attempts to evaluate the resort cycle have primarily adopted a historical perspective, comparing recorded developments against the predicted stages. Positive results from this research have contributed to continued use of the cycle as a historical framework (Hovinen 1981; Helleiner 1983; Lundgren 1983; Ogeithorpe 1984; Meyer

Arendt 1985; Keller 1987; Wilkinson 1987; Strapp 1988; Weaver 1988; Hinch and

Butler 1988; Foster and Murphy 1991). In fact, while the resort cycle has been strongly criticized as a predictive model, it has received widespread support in historical research.10 Cooper and Jackson (1989), for instance, argue that the value of the resort cycle as a predictive model is severely constrained by the problem of projecting present trends into the future. In contrast, they feel that the cycle provides an ideal means for 117

organizing the economic, social, and environmental changes that are associated with a

tourist development into a meaningful whole.” Cooper and Jackson subsequently try to

demonstrate the value of the resort cycle by using it to chart the development of the

tourist industry on the Isle of Man over the last 150 years. In the study, the authors

evaluate how managerial decisions and marketing strategies have changed over time, and

whether they correlated with different stages of the resort cycle. They observe, for

instance, that between 1880 and 1913, private companies and the island’s government

spent significant sums on advertising, and also worked to establish a set of regulations for the industry in order “to ensure the maintenance of basic standards in accommodation

and an acceptable code of behaviour from the ever increasing numbers of exuberant

visitors” (1989: 387). These strategies subsequently changed when this ‘development’

phase gave way to periods of ‘consolidation’ and ‘decline’. The emphasis in these latter

periods was on creating a market niche for the island’s tourist product. In the face of

stiff competition from more exotic locations (southern Europe and the Middle East), the

local tourist board committed itself to monitoring closely vacation trends in the hopes that they could adapt to, and thus capture, specific segments of the market.

Cooper and Jackson’s study is one of the more creative and detailed attempts to

apply the resort cycle. The resort cycle, however, has not received, nor is unlikely to receive, much attention from cultural and historical geographers. There is little evidence,

in other words, that the resort cycle will provide a theoretical link to other fields in the

discipline. There are several reasons for this situation. Among the most important is the

fact that many cultural and historical geographers are uncomfortable with the idea that

there are logical and consistent patterns of development The current literature in cultural

and historical geography stresses, for instance, the importance of examining events and

places in context—that is, with respect to the particular institutional, economic, and 118

cultural parameters in which they occur. In fact, a strong argument could be made to the

effect that mature resorts are not the inevitable result of a cycle of development, but rather

are the product of complex changes in, for example, the demography and economic

prosperity of society, labour law, transportation technology, and cultural fashions.

Cooper and Jackson’s study indicates that it may be possible to integrate some of these

contextual variables into cycle research; nevertheless, it is unlikely, given the variety and dynamism of modern tourism, that consistent patterns will emerge.

An awareness and appreciation of past accomplishments and alternative

perspectives is important in tourism geography as in any field of scholarly inquiry (Smith

1982). At present, however, the real challenges for tourism geography lie in the future.

New areas of research must be opened up and new methodologies put into practice. Specffically, research in tourism geography must examine in greater theoretical and

empirical detail the place and character of tourism in modem culture in order to contribute to the theoretical development of cultural and historical geography. Already a number of

urban, social, and economic geographers have turned to tourism for material(Duncan

1978; Ley and Olds 1988). Tourism, they recognize, has played, and continues to play

an important role in the formation of mass and postmodern cultures. The significance of

tourism’s place in contemporary society has also been argued by historians, sociologists,

and anthropologists (MacCannell 1976; Sears 1989; Urry 1990). The following sections examine the theoretical and empirical research that has been advanced on these

topics. This discussion will help set the context for my empirical research on the

presentation of British Columbia’s tourist landscape. 119

Stages of Modern Tourism

There is general agreement that modem tourism, as it has it has evolved since the Enlightenment, can be broken into different stages. Two broad stages are usually identified although many researchers now add a third. These stages are commonly referred to as aristocratic, mass, and postmodem. Aristocratic tourism started in the early 1600s when residents of northern European countries began to venture forth in order to see firsthand the classical antiquities of the continent generally, and the scientific achievements of the Italian Renaissance in particular. Aristocratic tourism is consequently closely associated with the Grand Tour, but it more generally refers to a style of travel that was dominated by Europe’s upper classes well into the nineteenth century. Mass tourism is a product of industrial, capitalist society. It is distinct from aristocratic tourism both in terms of scale and style. Whereas only 20,000 English men and women per annum, or 0.2 to 0.3 percent of the country’s population, took foreign tours in the mid 1700s, Thomas Cook and Sons alone guided that many to the Paris Exhibition of 1867 (Towner 1985: 304; Turner and Ash 1975: 55). By the end of the nineteenth century, tourism had become an important component of the European economy, and today its revenues are critical to many developed and underdeveloped countries alike (Ogilvie 1933). Mass tourism concerns the democratization of travel that came about as response to innovations in machine-powered transportation, the growth of the middle class, the emergence of advertising and a consumer ethic, and the development of major cities (as both sources of, and destinations for tourists). Together these changes transformed tourism from a small, elitist activity into a mass, commercialized, and heavily regulated ritual. Postmodem tourism is the most recent stage to evolve. It is associated, as I will shortly argue, with the emergence of post industrial society and specifically involves a rejection of the mass tourist industry, and a 120 search for authenticity in ‘uncivilized’ cultures and landscapes. Postmodern tourism is manifest in hill-tribe trekking in Thailand, adventure travel in the wilds of British

Columbia, and the search for spiritual well-being in the temples of Tibet (Cohen 1989; Murphy 1991; Klieger 1989).

In presenting this historical framework, it should be emphasized that these stages are not exclusive. Studies indicate that aristocratic tourism extended well into the late nineteenth and even early twentieth century, while mass and postmodem tourism are seen to coexist at present (Thurot and Thurot 1983; Cohen 1979). The tendency for stages of tourism to overlap reflects the diversity of travel styles, and specifically their association with different classes and taste cultures. Distinct temporal divisions, moreover, should not be expected to the degree that changes in society and technology are never absolute, and in the sense that new travel styles develop gradually in response to previous ones (Turner and Ash 1975; Belasco 1979; Jakie 1985). While these arguments indicate that historical frameworks should be interpreted with caution, they also suggest that periods of overlap are potentially fertile in terms of research. Periods of overlap are periods of transition in which changes in travel patterns, tourist motivations, and presentations of landscapes (to list just a few) are highlighted.

The division of modern tourism into stages provides a very general framework for historical research. Research suggests, nonetheless, that it is possible to subdivide these stages further. Adler (1989) has identified, for instance, three stages within aristocratic tourism. She argues that the early stages of aristocratic travel were dominated by an ‘aesthetic of discourse’. She makes this argument in light of the fact that many tourists at this time traveled to centres of higher education in order to absorb the classics, learn foreign languages, and interact with eminent men. These motivations and subsequent knowledge conditioned the way in which tourists ‘read’ landscapes. In time, 121

an alternative aesthetic of the ‘eye’ developed in response to philosophical theories that

held that true knowledge was only available through first-hand observation. Many

tourists in the 1700s regarded their travels as experiments, and consequently made detailed observations and records of such things as the distance between towns, the number of stairs in a church, or the climate of a region. Most notable about this period

from a rhetorical stand-point was the dominance of a “plain, unornamented, minimalist style”, and the absence of personal references in travel narratives. These rhetorical strategies, Adler suggests, were equivalent to statements of affiliation with the new scientific culture. The third period of aristocratic tourism arose in the late eighteenth century and was characterized by an artistic aesthetic. Tourists were influenced, in particular, by the rules of the picturesque and the sublime. They strove to become connoisseurs of landscape, and travel became as much an activity of seeing places as an

opportunity for social display.’2 As a result, the rhetoric of travel narratives and guides is highly embellished during this period. This last period of aristocratic tourism lasted until the twentieth century, and thus forms the immediate context for this study.’3

It is also possible to subdivide mass tourism into several periods. However, the scale and complexity of mass tourism makes such an exercise considerably more difficult.’4 One attempt to categorize periods of mass tourism in North America is found in Van Doren and Lollar (1985). The authors suggest that mass tourism has passed

through three periods which they refer to as mass recreation, mass mobility and transience, and post-mobility adjustment. The first period began in the 1920s but did not really take form, Van Doren and Lollar argue, until the late 1940s. This observation is a common one in reviews of mass tourism, and is supported by data that show a significant increase in tourist traffic following the conclusion of World War Two

(Murphy 1985). However, other studies (Jakie 1985; Belasco 1979; Bailie 1985; 122

McKay 1988) indicate that the importance of the twenties and thirties should not be discounted, that critical events in the evolution of mass from aristocratic tourism took place during these decades. I am interested, in particular, in the emergence of the state as a promoter and regulator of the tourist industry at this time. Direct involvement of the state is a fairly recent phenomenon. The state did not, for instance, play a significant role in the presentation of tourist landscapes before the turn of the twentieth century. At that time, the industry had been dominated by major transportation companies. However, as the market for tourism grew, and as the industry spatially fragmented in the 1920s and

1930s, the state was encouraged to play a more significant role, and by the early 1940s governments were among the principal promoters of North America’s tourist landscapes.

Since the 1920s and 1930s, the role of the state has increased and many now regard state involvement as one of the distinguishing characteristics of mass tourism. The state’s involvement is attributable in a large part to changing transportation technology and specifically to the automobile. The automobile changed the market for tourism and altered the spatial dimensions of the industry. When trains and steamships were the predominant modes of transportation, tourists were confmed to narrow corridors and nodes and travel to a small, affluent segment of society (Hart 1984). As a low cost and flexible mode of transportation, the automobile extended tourism to the middle classes and shattered the monopoly of the transportation companies. Tourism subsequently became a regional yet highly fragmented industry. Recognizing these changes, industry officials called for greater state involvement. Federal and provincial governments, it was felt, were the only organizations large enough to coordinate, regulate, and market the industry. The emergence of the state also reflects the general growth of government under capitalist society. The specific events and context that lead to the formation of state run tourist agencies in Canada generally and British Columbia in particular are discussed in Chapter 5. 123

The period Van Doren and Lollar describe as “mass mobility and and transience” represents in many ways a maturation of the earlier period and perhaps the two should be

grouped together. The start of the “post mobility and adjustment” period is marked by

the energy crises of the 1970s, but is characterized by a complex of factors. These factors include a slower rate of growth in tourism, the fragmentation of the mass tourist market into smaller ‘lifestyle’ markets, changing travel patterns and demographics

(shorter holidays, older travellers, more individuals and couples and fewer families), and more generally by a re-evaluation of social values (concern over the health of the environment, urban development, and even the impact of the tourist industry). These changes in turn have encouraged a new, postmodem style of tourism to develop. This

development has been strongly supported by the state. However, the state’s pursuit of this new market is paradoxical insofar as postmodern tourism purposefully distances itself from mass tourism, and thus from many of the qualities that characterize the state’s involvement in the industry. I want to determine if postmodern tourism constitutes a

distinct stage of tourism in terms of its presentations of landscape, and, if it does, how well the provincial government in British Columbia has been able to adapt its traditional rhetoric to this new market. The state’s role in the promotion of postmodem tourism in

British Columbia is also examined in greater detail in Chapter 5.

Mass Tourism

Mass tourism is well recognized as a historical stage and cultural category of modem

tourism. There is, however, considerable debate over the character and significance of

mass tourism. Traditionally mass tourism has been interpreted from a conservative

perspective in which mass tourism and its impacts are seen primarily in a negative light.

However, in recent years, an alternative literature has developed that challenges conservative research. This literature suggests that conservative studies have over 124 generalized their assessments of mass tourism, and as such calls for more empirically grounded and theoretically informed interpretations of tourism and its relation to contemporary society. This debate is presently unresolved, and, as a consequence, no

definitive reading of mass tourism can be offered. The purpose of the following paragraphs is to review the basic tenets of conservative work and the counter arguments of alternative research, and, siding with the latter, to suggest how these arguments influence the interpretation of presentations of tourist landscapes.

Conservative Interpretations

In the past, the literature on mass tourism has been dominated by a conservative perspective (Meyersohn 1981).15 Tourism is seen in this work as one of the most superficial activities that mass culture has to offer. For critics such as Boorstin (1964),

Turner and Ash (1975), and Fussell (1980), tourism is an exercise in diversion; it is a celebration of surfaces, “pseudo-events” and “pseudo-places”.’6 Mass tourism is also criticized for its negative impacts. Specifically it is seen as one of the primary means by which western culture has diffused to other areas of the world (Nash 1977).

Comparisons of tourists to ‘uncivffized’ invaders are common. Turner and Ash, for example, describe tourists as modern day barbarians who annually leave the overcrowded, polluted, and formless metropolitan centres of the north in search of the beautiful and pristine landscapes of the south. Once found, the tourist’s sense of discovery and fascination is unable to suppress the desire to “sack, pillage and rape”

(1975: 129). Ultimately, Turner and Ash argue, tourists are only capable of valuing

“primitive” cultures and natural environments in terms of trophies and momentos and, as a consequence, inevitably destroy what they seek. 125

This negative perspective is manifest in historical interpretations of mass tourism as a degradation of an earlier art of ‘travel’. Conservative critics argue that prior to the emergence of industrial, capitalist society, tourism was a purer and more focussed activity that ‘required long planning, large expense, and great investments in time”

(Boorstin 1964: 84). Unlike mass tourism, aristocratic travel demanded effort, self reliance, and discomfort (Fussell 1980). In short, travel was work—yet it rewarded the traveller with knowledge and unfiltered experience: “its “fruits were”, in the words of

Fussell, “the adornment of the mind and the formation ofjudgment’ (Fussell 1980: 39).

In contrast, the rise of industrial, capitalist society and with it “the democratizing of travel, the lowering of cost, increased organization, and improved means of long distance transportation ... helped to dilute the experience” of travel (Boorstin 1964:

109). Persons and objects of special condemnation are Thomas Cook (who invented the charter tour and solved the mysteries of train schedules, foreign exchange, and passport regulations); the guide books of Baedeker and Murray (whose common objective was to minimize the tourist’s anxiety by providing detailed advice about where to go, how to behave, and what to see;’7 the international airport (which more than the hotel or the cruiseship, symbolizes the placelessness of mass tourism), and the state (whose intervention—customs, marketing, investment—between tourist and attraction highlights the anonymity of contemporary travel). Fussell writes that while the explorer sought

“the undiscovered [and] the traveller that which has been discovered by the mind working, the tourist [is only interested in that] which has been discovered by entrepreneurship and prepared for him by the arts of mass publicity” (1980: 39). This pessimistic view of the history of tourism reflects the intellectual heritage of conservative studies in the mass culture debates of the 1950s and 1960s.’8 Like television and the popular press, tourism is held up as evidence of the decline of western culture since the industrial revolution. 126

Although usually not as polemical, a significant proportion of the literature on

mass tourism is still based on these conservative assumptions. Most notable in terms of

the project at hand are studies by Overton (1979; 1980; 1984; 1988) and Papson (1981).

Both of these authors are highly critical of the way in which different provincial governments in Canada have marketed their landscapes. Overton’s research examines

the promotion of tourism in Newfoundland where the government has long capitalized

and built upon the province’s folk image, the idea that the “Real Newfoundland” is the

one that exists “down the side roads” and in the outports where the fishermen can be found “knitting their nets, caulking their boats, or building a wiggly garden rod fence”.

Overton believes that this imagery presents not only a romantic caricature of the province, but that it is also a form of “regional” false consciousness19 in the sense that it rationalizes the ‘underdeveloped’ state of Newfoundland’s economy:2°

What the image of ‘the Real Newfoundland’ presented in tourism advertising but found more widely in Newfoundland does is to not deny the unevenness of capitalist development; the extremes of poverty and wealth, but to depoliticise and mythologise them. It purifies them and makes them innocent, gives them a natural status and a justification to continue to exist. (1980: 135)

Overton traces the roots of this imagery to the nineteenth century, and to the romantic

aesthetic that developed as an “explicit reaction and protest against the kind of world which was being produced by the development of industrial capitalism” (Overton 1980:

125). Early mass tourism presented “an opportunity to withdraw and contemplate existence and assess one’s life and accepted values by returning to basics and to natural

settings”. However, in the process of preserving “pre-capitalist refuges”, romantic imagery disguises the “true social relationships upon which existence is based”. 127

Papson reaches a less political conclusion in his study of the marketing of Prince

Edward Island and Nova Scotia. Unlike Overton, Papson is unwilling to draw sharp

lines between images and reality, and suggests that what is really important is the construction of reality: the “issue is not whether the experience is true or false but from

where and how the definitions which make up social reality arise” (1981: 221). This

interpretive stance is similar to ones advocated in alternative research mass tourism. However, Papson’s conservative perspective is clearly evident in his distinction between culturally internal and external defmitions of reality. Internal definitions arise in everyday life and are described as “genuine” and “spontaneous”. In contrast, external definitions, such as those found in state promotions (advertising, highway routing, event

sponsorship), are “alien”, “contrived”, and “self-conscious”. Papson goes on to argue that “authentic” and “spurious” forms of reality are incompatible. As the latter becomes prevalent, the reality of everyday life is inevitably “consumed” by ‘preconceived defmitions of people and places’ (1981: 233, 225).21

The importance that Overton and Papson give to the state in the promotion of tourist landscapes is an important observation. The federal and provincial governments rank among the largest tourist advertisers in both Canada and the United States. They

also play an important role in coordinating and assisting tourist marketing by smaller

organizations and individual companies. Cohen argues, however, that conservative interpretations of mass tourism, such as Overton’s and Papson’s, run the risk of creating

a “stereotype of a stereotype”. In the process of characterizing promotional imagery as

spurious, as a form of false consciousness, conservative research creates its own exaggerated images of the tourist industry. These stereotypes potentially preclude,

Cohen argues, more ‘contextualized, concrete, and detailed’ studies of how presentations

of landscape contribute to the formation of tourist audiences and cultures (Cohen 1993: 128

37). Cohen, along with a growing number of researchers, are exploring alternative perspectives and methodologies in order to understand better the place of tourism in mass society.

Alternative Perspectives on Mass Tourism

An alternative literature on mass tourism has gradually emerged over the last twenty years. This literature is by no means internally consistent. Yet collectively it challenges the basic assumptions and observations of conservative studies, and in the process broadens the scope of cultural and historical tourism research. Generally this literature suggests that mass tourism is more complex than, and travel not as ‘pure’ as conservative critics contend. In the following subsections, I have grouped alternative research into studies that address the ideological character of mass (and aristocratic) tourism, and those that focus on its cultural impacts. This distinction is made for organizational purposes only. I recognize, pace Jackson (1989), that culture and ideology are closely related. The term ideology is used to refer to the association of a set of ideas or interests with a perspective, class, or organization. Culture is understood initially, following Geertz (1973), to be a ‘dynamic set of meanings embodied in symbols through which people communicate, perpetuate, and develop their knowledge about and attitudes toward life’. The concept of culture is reappraised at the end of the second subsection.

The Ideology of Landscape

Conservative studies often distinguish between mass and aristocratic tourists in terms of their ideological baggage. Mass tourists are seen to cany (or acquire through the tourist industry) a heavy load that impairs their ability to understand cultures and landscapes.

Aristocratic tourists, in contrast, travel light and as such are better able to appreciate and 129

understand the places they visit. Recent research on aristocratic tourism and other forms

of travel challenges this simple distinction. Studies of ‘travel’ narratives indicate that

early explorers, missionaries, surveyors, and statesmen—like mass tourists—saw

foreign cultures and landscapes through perceptual lenses that were coloured by

stereotypes of race, gender, religion, class, and nationality. An excellent example of this argument is Pratt’s (1985) study of the “very familiar, widespread, and stable form of

‘othering” in nineteenth century travel writing on Africa. In the study, Pratt compares explorers’ presentations of native cultures to theis descriptions of the physical

environment. Pratt argues that explorers tended to say very little about their encounters

with ‘live natives’. And when Africans were described, they were abstracted and

“objectified”, treated more as specimens than as living human beings. The behaviour of

Africans amounted to an “endless repetition of ‘normal’ behaviour” (1985: 121). This perspective effectively reduced natives, Pratt argues, to ‘traces on the land’. Other

alternative research on this topic similarly challenges the conservative assumption that the

aristocratic tourist was primarily motivated by a desire to learn about foreign places.

Aristocratic tourists, particularly in the l600s, were often young students (and their

tutors). Wealthy families in England and other northern European countries sent their children to the universities in Italy to learn the classics and foreign languages. Adler

(1989) has argued, however, that this knowledge was not an end in itself; it was both a badge of membership in the aristocracy and a ‘tool kit’ of skills essential for a diplomatic

career. Adler comments: “At a time when the social role of the nobility was being transformed and burgeoning institutions of diplomacy opened new opportunities in a

courtier’s career ... European aristocracies sustained an art of travel, explicitly

legitimized by service to the state, which sought to develop the international contacts, judicious political judgement, adeptness at foreign languages, and skill at oratory deemed

desirable in a Prince’s counsellor” (1989: 9). Aristocratic tourism was, consequently, 130 both a privilege of the few,22 and, apparently, a means the upper classes used to maintain their position in society. If this interpretation is correct, studies of aristocratic and early mass tourism should address its social and political character. This interpretation, in combination with Pratt’s observations, make it difficult to interpret the emergence of mass tourism in the nineteenth century as a degradation of travel. Mass tourism brought with it new motivations and new ways of seeing; these changes, however, were relative rather than absolute.:23 All forms of tourism are shot through with ideology.

Another conservative assumption challenged by alternative research is that mass tourists are ‘dupes’ or ‘pawns of the system’, or that mass tourism is a form of social control. Several detailed, empirical studies of mass tourism in the nineteenth century have drawn attention to the role that property ownership, education, labour law, and government programs played in the transformation of working class leisure and in the development of resorts (Walton 1981). These studies appear to confirm Overton’s position that mass tourism is controlled, and even orchestrated by the state and the owners of the means of production (Walton and Walvin 1983). These studies are, however, less dogmatic in their assessment of this relationship. In fact, there is general agreement in these studies that the relationship between tourism and class (and more generally work and leisure) began to fragment with the industrialization and urbanization of capital (Bailey 1989). Other studies have presented an even more cautious interpretation, suggesting that the evolution of leisure and tourism in industrial, capitalist society was more “erratic, complex, and contentious” (Bailey 1989). Although acknowledging the importance of class, these researchers suggest that leisure also functioned as a protest against the division of powers, or, more radically, that leisure and tourism developed their own momentum. This position is supported by research on 131 more recent expressions of mass tourism (Ward and Hardy 1986), as well as leisure

(Kando 1980; Zuzanek and Mannell 1983; Surber 1983), that has shown that the relationship between work and non-work identities is inconsistent.24

An interesting example of recent research on the relationship between ideology and mass tourism is found in Ley and Olds (1988) study of World’s Fairs as landscapes of spectacle. In the study, Ley and Olds consider the thesis that World’s Fairs function as a instruments of hegemonic control. The authors argue that World’s Fairs have often been used by the ruling class to distract the masses from pressing social issues. As an example, Ley and Olds explore how the 1986 World’s Fair held in Vancouver, British

Columbia, was used by the government to ensure its re-election. According to this interpretation the Fair was used to make people forget about the state of the provincial economy and the government’s unpopular restraint program. Pessimism was replaced by a party atmosphere. The authors are careful to point out, however, that World’s Fairs have also played other roles. They have, for instance, functioned as sources of social unrest, or as places for ludic (playful) forms of social interaction. The landscape of the

1986 World’s Fair was no exception. Controversies over the cost of the fair and labour issues aggravated existing political tensions. Some exhibitors, furthermore, even used the Fair as a vehicle to criticize the ideology behind the event. Expo 86 was supposed to be a celebration of transportation. Yet, one display consisted of a buckled highway upon which some two hundred uniformly grey vehicles had been placed in the appearance of

“an excavated ruin of a long-dead civilization” (1988: 196). The intention of the display was to remind visitors about the negative aspects of modern technology. In addition to these political overtones, the authors found that a majority of visitors were unconcerned with the ideological content of the Fair. For them the Fair was a primarily a means for 132 socializing among friends and family. In these cases, the landscape of Expo 86 was seen in personal rather than political terms.

Two conclusions can be drawn from ideological research on aristocratic and mass tourism. First, this research suggests that all stages of tourism, and thus all presentations and interpretations of tourist landscapes, are ideological. There is no singular, objective landscape waiting to be discovered. Nor is it possible to interpret landscapes without imposing a perspective. Landscapes are cultural constructions and thus are best interpreted as dynamic and negotiated. Duncan (1978) has forcefully made this point in geography. He reasons that tourists would have to ‘dereify’ their established ways of seeing—that is to recognize that they are not the only ways of seeing—in order to observe the ‘real’ landscape. Such dereification is, however, impossible because tourists cannot escape the perceptual categories in which they have been socialized. Duncan argues that this inability to escape conventional frameworks holds, and is perhaps most ironic, for those ‘travellers’ who put considerable effort into seeing “the landscape and life as it is lived in the host’s country” (1978: 276). A second conclusion that can be drawn is that the relationship between mass tourism and social class is complex and indeterminate. Mass tourism is an expression of capitalist society and specifically of the growth of the middle classes in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Mass tourism cannot, nevertheless, be simply reduced to terms of class and social control.

The Invention of Culture

The general conclusions offered in alternative research on the ideological qualities of aristocratic and mass tourism are reflected in recent cultural studies of the impact of mass tourism on regional and ethnic identities. A number of studies have found that the 133 impact of mass tourism on foreign cultures is less negative and more complex than conservative critics have believed (Wood 1993). Perhaps the most remarkable example of this argument is found in Greenwood’s (1989) re-reassessment of tourism’s impact on the Alarde festival in Fuenterrabia, Spain. In one of the best known conservative studies, Greenwood (1977) had earlier attributed the destruction of the Basque festival to its commodification for tourist consumption. Greenwood reported that changes in the staging of the festival had made the annual celebration of the town’s victory over the

French in 1638 “meaningless to the people” and had led to its cancellation. However, visiting the site several years later, the festival was found not only to be alive but re imbued “with contemporary political significance as part of the contest over regional political rights in Spain” (1989: 181). Wilson suggests that Greenwood originally over estimated the impact of tourism on the festival; that its decline in the 1970s was principally the work of a “corrupt” municipal government “run by Spaniards who had little sympathy for the Basque region” (1993: 37).

Other reassessments of tourism’s cultural impact have suggested that events performed or objects made for tourists can contribute to the maintenance, creation, and even re-invention of local culture (Wood 1984; Jules-Rosette 1984; Sears 1989; Klieger

1989; Stevens 1991). This argument is similar to Ley and Olds’ (1988) in the sense that cultural events and objects are seen to convey meaning on several different levels

(Graburn 1976; Wilson 1989). For instance, in a study of Interlaken, Switzerland,

Bendix (1989) argues that the region’s foildore displays have largely retained their original nationalistic and political meaning despite their significance as tourist attractions. She argues that the William Tell play, the Unspunnen festival, alpine processions, and the Harderpotshete winter festival are still important means through which the Swiss

‘create and assert’ their local identity. As evidence, she points out that control over the 134

festivals resides outside the tourist industry, and reports that few organizers and

participants were motivated by tourism (and monetary gain in general) to become

involved. Despite these observations, Bendix does not argue that tourism has not

influenced the staging of these displays; rather her conclusion is that all cultural displays

require negotiation between interested parties, and that “Tourism and its concerns simpiy

add a further element in the staging process” (1989: 142).

A similar conclusion is found in a study of tourism and theatre in Java by Hughes-Freeland (1993). This author describes some of the ways in which ‘traditional’

and classical performances have been altered to suit tourists. She concludes, however,

that “performance traditions are always changing”, and that tourism’s primary impact has

been to legitimize different genres of traditional theatre in the eyes of locals.26 In fact,

she argues that “If anything, the justification and rationalization that tourism provides has

become assimilated into broader factional cleavages which engage in competition for cultural control within the region” (1993: 153). Thus through its association with

theatrical ‘entertainment’, tourism has become a means by which different groups compete in the political construction of local culture. Similar insights are found in studies by Graburn (1976), Cohen (1982a), Esman (1984), and Wood (1984). Wood draws particular attention to the role the state can play as a “culture-broke?’ and arbiter of cultural change. He notes that state involvement in the presentation of local culture to tourists inevitably results in a re-working of “culture’s relationship to the rest of society”

(1984: 368). This re-working may involve the legitimization of some cultural groups at the expense of others. For instance, Wood suggests that the economic importance of

Balinese culture has enabled this group to resist the “Indonesianization” of their regional

state-sponsored institutions.27 These conclusions clearly indicate that the relationship between culture and tourism is much more complex, and less deleterious than the one- 135

dimensional, conservative research suggests. Tourism can influence traditional practices

and meanings; but these influences are seen to be only one component of on-going cultural change in host countries. As noted in some studies, it has become increasingly

difficult to distinguish between the elements of local culture and those imposed by, or created for, mass tourism (Wood 1993).

Most of the alternative research on this topic has focussed on the cultural impact of mass tourism in non-western countries or in Europe. A couple of studies have been published, nonetheless, that examine the place of tourism in the creation and maintenance of culture in North America. One ambitious attempt to argue this relationship is found in

Sears’ recent compilation of essays entitled Sacred Places.28 Sears’ thesis is that tourism was one of the principal means by which Americans ‘discovered’ their country and invented themselves as a culture (1989: 4).29 To support this argument, Sears points to the central position that natural wonders and curiosities such as Mammoth Cave and

Niagara Falls, as well as those found in Yellowstone and Yosemite National Parks, held in the American imagination. The enormity and inimitable beauty of these sites epitomized, he argues, what Americans thought were the essential characteristics of their culture. Tourists journeyed to these shrines to confirm their belief that the United States was a chosen and privileged land. Sears also presents an interesting interpretation of prisons, asylums, and cemeteries as early tourist attractions. These places attracted tourists because they symbolized order and progress, and thus the inevitable perfection of American society. America’s new prisons and asylums were seen as a “special contribution of American society to the moral advancement of humanity.” They were

“utopian communities”, worlds complete unto themselves, “which in some respects seemed more perfect than the ordinary world in which [Americans] lived, more like the serene world of the pastoral dream” (1989: 98-99). 136

Another example in this vein is McKay’s interpretation of the invention of

Peggy’s Cove as the Maritimes’ “primary symbolic landscape”. McKay argues that

Peggy’s Cove, which sits on Nova Scotia’s once “ugly and uninteresting” east coast,30 was ‘discovered’ during the 1920s and 1930s when tourism was shifting from a style of

‘conspicuous consumption’ to a search for the ‘primitive’ and natural (McKay 1988: 29;

Turner and Ash 1976; Belasco 1979). Tourists, travel writers, and “local cultural producers” found in the small fishing village a place that had escaped the vices of twentieth century, where “life flows on smoothly and peacefully, as it has for 140 years”.31 The significance of this discovery and its imagery, McKay argues, is its subsequent association with and influence on regional culture. The acceptance of the imagery of the fisherfolk on the part of Maritimers was a reaction to the economic decline and marginalization of the region after World War One. It served as an attempt to escape to a better time—to a “Golden Age”—when the region’s industries had prospered.

Although this imagery could not reverse the province’s economic fortunes, it did contribute, McKay believes, to the formation of a “sense of collective identity” that found solace in the region’s folk heritage. This conclusion is similar to Overton’s interpretation of tourist imagery in Newfoundland. Like Overton, McKay sees tourism as a cultural response to the state of the province’s economy, and consequently to its status within

Canadian confederation. However, unlike Overton, McKay does not describe this pastoral imagery as a form of false consciousness; instead McKay recognizes that all regional identities are cultural constructions, and that the promotion of Nova Scotia’s

“amiable rejection of the twentieth century” and its “beauties of a rugged land and a turbulent sea” is a very real and legimate part of the process through which regional identities are made. 137

McKay’s study, along with those of Sears, Wood, Bendix, and others promoting alternative perspectives, have resulted not only in a reassessment of the cultural impact of mass tourism, but in a re-thinking of the meaning of culture itself. Conservative critics commonly draw on older defmitions in which culture is described in terms of tradition: an inherited, deeply rooted core of material objects and symbolic practices (Bendix

1993). From this perspective, culture is thought to be the preserve of historically or culturally remote groups that must be protected against the seasonal invasions of barbarians from mass society. In contrast to this view, alternative research suggests that culture must be interpreted as a dynamic and negotiated process (MacCannell 1984;

Cohen 1988; Bendix 1993). Wood argues that “we must increasingly see people as active and strategic users of culture, participating in contexts where no single set of cultural interpretations has an inherent claim to truth and objectivity” (Wood 1993: 66).

MacCannell (1984) similarly suggests that culture should be evaluated in terms of the

‘rhetorical explanations’ that tourists and others offer to distinguish themselves from one another. Culture is not grounded in material objects or legitimized by historical associations. Culture is an open-ended process that involves both internal and external influences. This conclusion builds on and parallels similar arguments in geography, anthropology, and folklore studies. It has become common in folklore studies, for instance, to talk about the ‘invention of tradition’ (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983). This expression discounts the distinction between folk and popular culture, and instead emphasizes that traditions are always defined in the present, and are thus subject to continued re-interpretation and change (Bendix 1989: 132; Handler and Linnekin 1984).

In anthropology, Clifford (1988) has described culture as a “politically contested and historically unfinished” process, while in geography Jackson (1989) and Duncan (1990) have suggested that culture is best interpreted as a symbolic process that arises through communication. 138

Undoubtedly there are important differences between mass and aristocratic tourism in terms of scale, markets, organization, and the degree of state participation.

Nonetheless, the arguments presented in the alternative literature blur the distinction

between the two on a cultural level. Clearly mass and aristocratic tourism cannot be

distinguished by the presence or absence of negative impacts or in terms of their

educational value. Both mass and aristocratic tourists present (biased) perspectives on

landscapes, and both contribute to the process of “culture-making”. A similar conclusion

is reached in the next section on postmodern tourism despite its purposeful attempt to

distinguish and distance itself from mass tourism. In light of these conclusions, and the research upon which they are based, I want to move beyond the simple denunciation of

tourist advertising (because distinctions between spurious imagery and ‘reality’ no longer

make sense) in this thesis, and examine instead how differences in tourist styles are created and built upon by the tourist industry. In other words, I want to place a greater emphasis on how the state, the tourist industry, and local groups’ use concepts such as

tradition, ethnicity, history, nature, and authenticity to present and construct cultures and their landscapes (Cohen 1988).

Postmodern Tourism

The second empirical chapter of the thesis examines if and how the British Columbia government’s current presentations of landscape have changed since the 1920s and

1930s, and whether these changes, if any, reflect and contribute to a rhetoric of postmodem presentations of tourist landscapes.32 Postmodem tourism is a catchall phrase that applies to the recent rise of heritage, educational, adventure, alternative, native, cross-cultural, eco-, and spiritual forms of ‘travel’. In British Columbia, postmodern tourism typically includes ‘adventure’ activities such as hiking, mountaineering, nature observation, sea lcayaking, and river rafting, as well as historical 139

and cultural tourism. But more importantly it is characterized by the rejection of the modem tourist industry and its system of attractions. It is marked especially by the search for authenticity in alternative settings, cultures, and times. In characterizing postmodern tourism in this way I am not contradicting my earlier discussion of mass tourism. Like Cohen (1989) and MacCannell (1976), I recognize that authenticity is a cultural product of social interaction. From this perspective, the mass tourist landscapes of Victoria’s Inner Harbour are no less real than those of Gwaii Haanas (Queen Charlotte

Islands). The distinction between mass and postmodern landscapes is not inherent nor absolute; rather the distinction is cultural and contextual. I am interested in how this distinction came into being, and how postmodern tourism rhetorically justifies and distinguishes itself from mass tourism.

The growth of postmodern tourism is widely recognized by the tourist industry and by the state.33 Already adventure tourism operators in British Columbia have formed associations to lobby for their collective interests while the province’s Ministry of

Tourism has launched marketing campaigns and assisted community projects promoting postmodem forms of tourism. The government sees postmodern tourism as a means of diversifying the province’s tourist “product” in terms of what, where and when tourists consume. For instance, adventure tourism is seen as a means for luring more tourists into the central and northern parts of the province. Heritage and cultural developments, on the other hand, are being used to encourage tourism during the fall and the spring.

This study is not an attempt to determine if these strategies have successfully altered travel patterns. My objective, instead, is to determine if a postmodern rhetoric of postmodern presentations of landscapes has evolved, and, if British Columbia’s Ministry of Tourism—an organization which, like other state tourist bureaus, has been 140 traditionally associated with the mass tourist industry—has been able to adapt to its strategies.

MacCannell’s The Tourist

The key text on postmodem tourism is Dean MacCannell’s The Tourist, A New Theory ofthe Leisure Class. First published in 1976, The Tourist is a highly provocative but flawed work. On the one hand, The Tourist is not a good example of careful empirical research. It has been strongly criticized for inadequate and outdated data, for its inattention to ‘recreational’ or ‘diversionary’ motives of travel, and for its overdrawn generalizations.M MacCanneil startles his readers with claims that “our first

apprehension of modem civilization ... emerges in the mind of the tourist”, that “tourism is the cutting edge of the world-wide expansion of modernity”, and that there is essentially no difference between the activities of tourists and those of social scientists:

‘The sociologist and the tourist stare at each other across the human community, each one copying the methods of the other as he attempts to synthesize modem and traditional elements in a new holistic understanding of the human community and its place in the modem world” (1976: 177).

On the other hand, The Tourist is a speculative work and should be read as such.

Significantly MacCannell compares its rhetorical style to Barthes’ Mythologies and to

McLuhan’s The Mechanical Bride (1976: 58). Yet, to MacCannell’s credit, The Tourist has not only inspired considerable debate and research on the character of contemporary tourism, but is also largely responsible for introducing questions of social theory and methodology into tourism studies. It has also correctly envisioned the emergence of postmodern tourism as an important component or stage of modem tourism. Although

MacCannell offers the book as a “new theory of the leisure class”, its real object of 141

concern is the nature of attractions that have until recently operated on the margins of

tourism.35 It is, in other words, concerned with tourists’ search for authenticity, and with their efforts to move beyond the distractions and façades of the mass tourist industry.

The Postindustrial Thesis

MacCannell begins his text with a discussion of some of the important changes in postindustrial society, and of tourism’s relationship to postmodern culture. The transition from industrial to postindusthal society is accompanied (symbolized),

MacCannell argues, by a shift in the relation of the social structure to the cultural sphere. Broadly there is a “mutual displacemene’. The technology and rationality of postindustrialism demands increasing specialization and efficiency of work; but it also repulses the individual, “sending him away to search for his identity or soul in off-the- job activities” (1976: 36). The socio-economic and cultural spheres are thus losing a common orientation. The work ethic that characterized industrial culture is being replaced with the “idea that not merely play and games but life itself is supposed to be fun” (1976: 35). MacCannell thus believes that as the ideas of self-enhancement and self-indulgence spread, culture displaces work from the centre of modern social arrangements (1976: 5). And he sees tourism, “especially international tourism and sightseeing”, as intimately linked to, and representative of, this trend.

The thrust of MacCannell’s argument is similar to Bell’s postindustrial thesis

(Bell 1976). Bell claims, contrary to most sociological theory, that events over the past one hundred years have widened the “disjunction between the social structure (the economy, technology and occupational system) and the cultural (the symbolic expression of meanings), each of which is ruled [now] by a different axial principle” (1976: 477). 142

Bell concentrates his cultural observations on the avant-garde—a subculture noted for its aversion to convention, and emphasis on the aesthetic and self-expressive value of culture. Habermas points out, nonetheless, that Bell could have extended his argument to include issues of self-expression—such as the increased concern for self-realization and inter-personal relations—and of the protection of the natural and historical environments (Habermas 1983). Here amongst these suggestions, the attitudes and values of MacCannell’s postmodern tourists fmd cultural space,

A consequence of MacCannell’s arguments about the disjunctions of modern society, is his belief that tourist attractions must be analyzed as cultural products. A cultural product is an event or an object such as a festival, a ‘bowl’ game, or a historical monument. Its value is not based on the relation of workers to the product of their labour, but on the relation of observers to the symbols and ideals offered by experiences (1976: 23). According to MacCannell, it is through the accumulation of cultural experiences that self-identity and enhancement are sought. MacCannell writes: “Cultural experiences are valued in-themselves and are the ultimate deposit of values, including economic values, in modem society” (1976: 28). Cultural productions can serve two functions in contemporary society. They can substantiate and celebrate the established symbols of society, or they can introduce novel symbols “by presenting new combinations of cultural elements and working out the logic of their relationship” (1976:

26). It is this latter function, which MacCannell calls differentiation, that is dominant,

MacCannell equates differentiation with contemporary social change. He points to the break down of postindustrial society from a simple owner-worker social structure to a complex of class and occupational hierarchies, and to the conflation of cultural symbols,

of “highrise apartments stand[ingj next to restored eighteenth century townhouses, ... of 143

Egyptian obelisks stand[ing] at busy intersections in London and Paris and in Central Park in New York City” (1976: 13).36

Postmodem tourism has its roots in these differentiations. MacCannell claims, in fact, that “the differentiations are the [tourist] attractions” (1976: 13). They are cultural products that the tourist wants to see because they are ‘different’ from those at home; but, more importantly, they are products that engender the tourist’s belief “that somewhere, ... in another country, in another life-style, in another social class, perhaps, there is a genuine society” (1976: 155). Postmodern tourists perceive their own

(technological) worlds as weightless, as lacking a central unifying ethic, and thus set off in search for self-realization in the lives of others. Authentic experiences they believe

“are available only to those modems who try to break the bonds of their everyday existence and begin to ‘live” (MacCannell 1976: 159). In this fashion, the postmodern tourist shares an aesthetic dimension with those individuals Daniel Bell describes as the avant-garde. This ‘adversarial’ sub-culture impulsively experiments with the varieties of aesthetic experience. Cohen (1979) similarly compares postmodern tourists to pilgrims in their travels to the artistic, national, wilderness, cultural, or religious ‘shrines’ to “pay them ‘ritual respect”. But whereas Bell sees the avant-garde as engaged in an incessant search for the new, MacCannell and Cohen see postmodern tourists striving to transcend the differentiations that are the source of their journey. Tourism is a “way of attempting to overcome the discontinuity of modernity, of incorporating its fragments into unified experience” (1976: 13). Postmodern tourism is the pursuit of ‘authenticity’.

Empirical Research

There are, unfortunately, few studies in the tourism literature that directly address the relationship between the nature of postindustrial society and its expression in postmodern 144 tourism.37 Pearce and Moscardo (1985) have tried to show that the perception of authenticity, and its importance as a motive, is directly related to people’s level of travel experience. However, their samples are small and the results less than convincing.

Pearce and Moscardo’s research (Moscardo and Pearce 1986; Pearce and Moscardo

1985; 1986) is limited, furthermore, by their assumption that authenticity is a measurable property of the site or the tourist’s experience. They associate authenticity with Maslow’s notion of ‘self-actualization’ and Heidegger’s concept of Dasein, and use these notions to develop a typology of tourist sites according to their degree of authenticity and their recognition as such. Although Pearce and Moscardo suggest that there are parallels between their work and that of MacCannell, they do not recognize, as

MacCannell does, that authenticity is socially constructed. As such, their research is tangential to the perspective adopted in this thesis.

Despite the limited utility of Pearce and Moscardo’s research, there are a few marketing studies that indirectly support MacCannell’s thesis. In general these studies

show that ‘lifestyle’ variables are now better indicators of tourist behaviour than are

socio-economic variables. Solomon and George’s (1977) study of bi-centennial tourists in Virginia, for instance, indicates that tourists interested in the historical associations of

attractions are more concerned with the educational value, and familial and personal

benefits of tourism than are their historically disinterested counterparts. The study also reveals that while the ‘historical’ dimension was indicative of tourist behaviour, the two

groups could not be identified on the basis of demographic differences. This result is

anticipated by MacCannell’s argument; for not only is culture becoming unglued from

the social structure in postindustrial society, the leisure class is being broken up and its

fragments distributed through the middle class on the one hand and popular culture on

the other (1976: 37, 35). 145

The assertion that different types of tourists cannot be distinguished by socio economic variables is controversial. A correlation between tourism and income, education, occupation, and age is a common assumption in tourism research. However, the rapid growth of the middle classes in western societies after 1945, the widespread promotion of higher education, the adoption of liberal values, and the development of rapid and affordable transportation are strong points for an argument that demographic variables are less indicative of tourist travels than they once were. Mueller and Gurin

(1963), in a careful Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission report, show through multiple-regression analysis that the simple positive correlations of occupation and education with various aspects of vacation travel are mostly attributable to variations in income. Abbey’s (1979) study of preferences in the package tour market is one attempt to directly compare the utility of demographic versus tourist behavioural variables. After a literature review, consultations with industry, and the administration of a questionnaire to tourists, Abbey developed a set of tourist profiles for each approach

(demographic and tourist behavioural), and then asked operators to prepare package tours for each profile.38 Thus for any tourist, Abbey had two packages, one relating to the tourists’ demographic characteristics, and the other to their tourist behavioural characteristics. Tourists were then asked to compare the two packages. Their responses indicate that behavioural variables are the better measure of their preferences.

Another interesting study, and one that examines an attraction symbolic of postmodern tourism, is Wall and Knapper’s (1981) survey of visitors to the King

Tutankhamun exhibition in Toronto. Their data show that visitors to the exhibit were predominantly from the higher income, better educated, and professionally employed social groups. This fmding suggests that there is a correlation between visitors and demographic variables. However, along a ‘personal development dimension’, 146

behavioural characteristics were more important for identifying general attitudes to art

and art museums. Visitors who responded strongly to profile descriptions such as

“Viewing art gives me insight into the world at large”, “Going to an art gallery is an

important personal experience for me”, “The function of an art gallery is to educate

people” were just as likely to be from lower income and less educated groups if they regularly engaged in other educational and self-enhancement leisure activities such as

“taking classes for pleasure” and “going to concerts”. This study thus provides some evidence that postmodern cultural values may be displaced from socio-structural characteristics.

The most important studies of postmodern tourism though are found in the work of Erik Cohen. Cohen’s research (1982a; 1982b; 1988; 1989) on alternative and jungle tourism in Thailand is an attempt to evaluate the degree to which postmodern tourists are committed to the pursuit of authenticity, and the steps the tourist industry takes to cater to and ‘ensure’ their expectations and experiences. Briefly his research shows that the desire to experience primitive cultures, alternative religions, and simpler (non-western) lifestyles is one of the primary reasons why young westerners travel to Thailand. However, Cohen also recognizes that authenticity is not an absolute or monolithic motivation. In an earlier, paper Cohen proposes that there is a spectrum of postmodern tourists, and that this spectrum can be categorized according to the tourist’s commitment to “the quest for centre”, which, following Eliade, he defines as “the zone of the sacred, the zone of absolute reality” (1979: 180). In particular, Cohen identifies five modes of commitment: recreational, diversionary, experiential, experimental, and existential. The first two modes are characterized by a low commitment to the quest for authenticity, and are typical of mass rather than postmodern tourism. The experiential mode is typified by the awareness of, and the motivation to experience, the “authentic life of others”. 147

Experiential tourists, however, “remain ... stranger[s] even when living among the

people whose ‘authentic’ lives [they] observe”: their experience of ‘otherness’ is

primarily aesthetic (1979: 188). Cohen characterizes experimental tourists as those in

search of themselves in the ‘authentic lives of others’, and who actually engage and experiment alternative life styles, yet ultimately “refuse fully to commit [themselves] to

it”. The existential mode comes closest to full commitment and is similar, Cohen

suggests, to a religious pilgrimage. These tourists travel repeatedly to specific sites for

spiritual and cultural reasons. Wilderness, religious shrines, national monuments, and

places of heritage are examples of destinations for existential tourists.

Cohen’s work on tourism in Thailand indicates that few postmodern tourists qualify as existential or experimental tourists—that few postmoderns actually want, or

are able, to escape their western values and culture. In reference to tourism on

Thailand’s remote beaches, Cohen notes that tourists on the whole did not engage in local ways, but instead ‘isolated’ themselves in tourist communes. Cohen also emphasizes the fact that the character of postmodem tourism is dependent on mass

tourism in the sense that the former defines itself with respect to the latter: authentic

attractions are those in which signs of inauthenticity have not (yet) appeared.

A second and related observation arising out of Cohen’s work is that the tourist

industry readily perceives the importance of ‘authenticity’ and takes steps to promote and enhance its experience. Government agencies, tour operators, jungle guides, and even

people in the villages employ a variety of measures to ensure that tourists’ expectations

are met. These measures include locating trails so as to avoid signs of inauthentic

cultural intrusions (roads, vehicles, buildings), staging sites and events (provision of

‘native’ food and facilities for tourists in the villages), and publishing ‘primitive’

promotional materials (to heighten the remoteness of the villages and promote confidence 148

in the guide as a local). In “The Primitive and the Remote”, Cohen argues that the latter

strategy is by far the most important, suggesting that “the manner in which a site is

presented and interpreted to the tourists by the guide” is particularly important for

attractions where physical changes to the site readily distract from its authenticity (1989: 33, 32). Cohen refers to such presentations as “keying” or “communicative staging”.

Like most tourism operators, jungle guides issue brochures and maps to promote their

business. However, in many cases the content of these materials is so inaccurate that the

brochures are of no practical use. Cohen suggests that these inaccuracies are not entirely

attributable to error, but are in part deliberate. Cartographic ‘mistakes’ in scale and location are used, he suggests, to emphasize the remoteness of hill-tribe villages and, in combination with deliberate misspellings, errors in grammar and logic, and simplicity in

brochure design, to promote the guide as local path-fmder (in contrast to the industry

professional). Cohen argues that the purpose of these rhetorical strategies is to ‘sell’ authenticity by satisfying tourists’ expectations.

On the basis of these observations, Cohen has developed a typology of tour

guide roles (1985a). Cohen argues that the role of the tourist guide “comprises several

analytically separable spheres”: the geographical or instrumental (the guide as path

fmder), the interactional (the guide as mediator between hosts and tourists), the

communicative (the guide as interpreter), and the social (the guide as an agent of tourist group integration) (1982a: 235). The balance of these spheres for any guide is

dependent on both the nature of the presented landscape and the type of tourists being

lead. For instance, the jungle guides hired by “experiential” tourists—for whom “even

slight signs of inauthenticity are often of much significance, and may easily lead to

disenchantment’—emphasize the first two spheres. These guides often enter into direct,

personal relationships with tourists, in effect identifying themselves with the tourists’ 149

‘quest for authenticity’. In contrast, ‘town’ guides hired by “mass” tourists emphasize the communicative and social spheres, and hence project a more refmed yet distant image.

Cohen’s observations are supported by those of Buck (1977), Adams (1984),

MacCannell (1984), and Fine and Speer (1985). Buck’s study of the presentation of Old

Order Amish communities in Pennsylvania is particularly interesting because it considers how authenticity is used both to sell and to preserve an ‘attraction’. Buck argues that while the primary motivation for tourism in Lancaster county is the desire to see real

Amish folk at work on real farms, that the Amish understandably want to limit these intrusions. The Amish have tried to control tourism by constructing interpretive centres to intercept tourists while they are still in ‘front’ regions. The rhetorical problem before the Amish is to convince tourists of the authenticity of the attractions, and thus to eliminate the desire of tourists to get ‘offsite’. The Amish try to meet this objective in promotional material by first encouraging “tourists to establish authentic ‘traveller-like’ personal contact with the local people”, and then by suggesting that the ‘staged’ attractions are convenient places to develop these contacts. The Amish example represents a unique situation with regards to ethnic and cultural tourism. Such postmodern tourist attractions, MacCannell suggests, often stress the “importance of emerging self-consciousness and self-determination” of an ethnic minority (1984: 387).

The purpose of the attraction is not just to preserve a symbolic place, but to change the wider circumstances of the group, or to correct its portrayal in the historical record.

Evidence for MacCannell’s argument is found in attractions such as Native Heritage

Centre near Duncan, British Columbia, or the Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump in southern Alberta (Rock 1992). Even the Frank Slide Interpretive Centre in the Crowsnest Pass displays this orientation—there is a conscious effort in its displays and 150 literature to write the history of labour and socialist politics into the conventionally apolitical narrative of tourist attractions.

The major conclusion that comes out of MacCannell, Cohen, and Buck’s research is that ‘authenticity’ is not an inherent property of an attraction, but rather a commodity that is socially and culturally constructed (1988: 374).39 Authenticity,

Cohen suggests, is a symbol that becomes attached to specific attractions initially through the activities of postmodern tourists, and eventually through the normal channels of the tourist industry. Cohen sees the quest for authenticity, therefore, as fully implicated in the cultural economy of western tourism:

As the number of tourists in the area grows, they create demand for services which, in turn, elicits the establishment of rudimentary local tourist enterprises. Such enterprises, operating outside the boundaries of routine touristic circuits, appear to offer authentic alternatives to the ‘contrived’ attractions of mass tourism. However, since such ‘alternative’ enterprises are usually small and relatively easy to establish, their number soon proliferates, quickly outstripping the demand. Hence, afierce competition develops between businesses which, owing to the nature of their clientele, focuses less on the quality oftheir service, than on the authenticity ofthe attractions they offer. This competition tends in turn to become the source of a more covert and more insidious forms of ‘staged authenticity’ than the one which is typical of the ‘tourist space’ of routine mass tourism. Paradoxically, this development takes place precisely because the principal ‘commodity’ which those enterprises offer is ‘authenticity’. (1989: 32, emphasis added)

Cohen’s interpretation emphasizes that postmodern tourism tends to become part of the tourist industry in the process of trying to invert it. This argument indicates, moreover, that there is a fme line between modern and postmodern tourism, and that this line is always changing. Already a ‘soft’ adventure market has begun to take shape. It caters to 151

those travellers who want the symbolic benefits of postmodern tourism, but without its physical (or intellectual or spiritual or ideological) challenges.

Two Postmoderns

It is important to emphasize that MacCannell’s thesis does not apply to the entire

spectrum of tourists or the tourist industry, but only that component that I have referred

to as postmodern (Cohen 1979: 180). It is perhaps also worth noting that it is

concerned with only a portion of postmodern culture. Dunn (1991) argues that “proudly

ambiguous” postmodern culture is actually composed of two tendencies. One tendency

is based on the rejection of modern culture and by the search for community, the past,

and authenticity, as discussed by MacCannell. The other celebrates the fragmentation of

modern culture, and embraces rather than rejects its symbolic content. This tendency

emphasizes surface and disunity, the indeterminacy of meaning, and the plurality of

values in contemporary society. It is characterized by the play of signification, rather

than by the quest for authenticity. The West Edmonton Mall is often cited as an example

of playful postmOdernism (Shields 1989; Hopkins 1990). Hopkins characterizes the

Mall as a “place-ship” that transports willing participants to a cornucopia of famous sites.

As such visitors to the Mall assist in the creation of “elsewhereness”: “a sense of place encouraged by ‘schizophrenia’ mall design and realized through an accepting, perhaps

mildly ‘schizophrenic,’ patron state of mind” (1990: 13). Urry similarly contributes to this discussion through his notion of post-tourists. Post-tourists are people who recognize and celebrate the staged character of modern attractions. The post-tourist is

one who plays along with the system and finds enjoyment in being deceived and in

contributing to the myths of contemporary society. For the post-tourist, the play and not the site is the attraction.40 152

These are provocative suggestions. Yet, it is not clear as to what degree

postmodernism, as the ‘play of surfaces’, has penetrated the popular imagination, and thus to what degree it is implicated in the transformation of contemporary tourism.

Given the collage of images that penetrate the collective imagination every day via the electronic media, and the ability of modem transportation to move large numbers of

people across national and cultural boundaries in a matter of hours, it is difficult to see

how the Mall’s ‘clash of multiple interiors’ are symbolically disorienting. Rather than a postmodemist play of indeterminacy, the Mall has very real cultural and historical referents in Disneyland and Disney World,4’ in the museums of P.T. Barnum, and generally in the experiences of modem tourism and communications (Wicke 1988;

Meyorwitz 1985). The Mall’s façades collectively signify experiences and places associated with similar attractions. From this perspective, the Mall is not a clash of signified places, but a very unified set of symbols that signify the values of mass consumer culture. Urry’s comments on post-tourists are similarly difficult to accept.

The concept of a post-tourist depends on the unacceptable characterization of all mass tourists as ‘dupes of the system’—as tourists incapable of recognizing the contrived nature of modem attractions—and on the elevation of the postmodem tourist as a sophisticate wise to all of the tricks the tourist industry has to offer. Not only does this view lead back to the cultural myopia of Daniel Boorstin (1964), but it ironically conflicts with Cohen’s analysis of modern tourism. Cohen argues that “play” is the central quality of modem tourism. Cohen argues that modern tourism is a “play at reality’—i.e. the tourist ‘plays’ as fthe attractions, (even the overtly contrived ones) represented or symbolized some independent, ontologically present but transcendent Reality—even as he ‘knows’ that such a Reality does not or cannot exist anymore according to his immanentistic construction of the world” (1985b: 294-95). From Cohen’s perspective, most modem tourists display a “readiness for playful self-deception, the willingness to 153

go along with the illusion that an often obviously contrived, inauthentic situation is real”

(1985b: 295). This willingness derives from a “longing” to discover “Reality

without becoming alienated from modernity” (1985b: 300). Postmodem tourism, in contrast, involves the serious, ritualistic, and experiential quest for meaning. Both mass

and postmodern tourists search for reality, but only postmodern tourists take the quest seriously enough for it to affect substantially their ‘place’ in society (1985b: 295,300).

Cohen’s interpretation blurs the distinction between mass and postmodern tourism, between the inauthentic and the authentic. It provides, thereby, a more reasonable and balanced interpretation of tourist cultures and their associated landscapes.

Conclusion

In presenting recent studies of mass and postmodem tourism, I concede that many of their observations and conclusions are best treated as preliminary. In particular, caution

should be exercised with respect to MacCannell’s interpretation of postmodem tourism.

Many of MacCannell’s assertions, such as his claim that “the tour is the only unit of

social organization in the modem world that is both suffused with cultural imagery and

absolutely detached from surrounding culture”, are overdrawn. Yet it is rash to conclude that MacCannell’s ideas are of no value. The Tourist is a speculative book about an emergent phenomenon. I have thus pointed to some of the empirical evidence that supports his thesis. But again few solid conclusions can be drawn. Conservative critics especially may regard the conclusions that all ‘travel’ is ideological, that culture is a negotiated concept, and that ‘authenticity’ is a commodity, as an invitation to relativism

(English 1986). if one cannot distinguish between local traditions and those imposed by

tourists, then what are the standards that distinguish good tourism from bad? Is the

possibility of all evaluation in fact lost? If cultures are evolving, and if the authenticity of

a cultural object is determined in the market place, then conservative critics may conclude 154 that alternative research tacitly approves, or at least has no means of stopping, the colonization of ‘non-western’ places and times through tourism. Significantly, recent discussions of ecotourism have centred on the need to create a ‘traveller’s’ code of ethics and associations to oversee the industry (Wood 1993; McPhedran 1993). Although the debate over relativism has just begun, it is a critical issue and should not be discounted.

Already anthropologists (Marcus and Fisher 1986), geographers (Barnes and Duncan

1992), historians (White 1987), and economists (McCloskey 1985) have begun to question their own role in the construction of cultures and places. Insofar as MacCannell

(1976: 177) has suggested that tourists and academics share common objectives and methods, such a discussion in tourism studies is bound to be interesting.

Alternative research on mass tourism should similarly be considered tentative and incomplete. While the literature on the cultural and historical character of mass tourism has grown both in volume and sophistication over the past decade, many issues remain unexamined. Research on the relationship between mass tourism and the state, for instance, is still in its infancy, while questions concerning the development of mass tourism as part of the social and spatial transformation of society in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries have hardly begun to be asked. Alternative research on mass tourism, nonetheless, has opened up some interesting avenues of research—avenues that tourism geographers cannot afford to ignore. Specifically, the discussion surrounding the concept of culture is one to which tourism geographers—given their interests in landscapes and diffusion—can and should contribute. This thesis tries to build on the argument that culture (and, by extension, landscape) is a negotiated processes by examining how the characters of tourists and landscapes are created through the rhetoric of advertising. It is not my intention, in other words, to argue that tourist advertising creates false impressions and stereotypes. Rather, I want to examine generally how the 155 meanings of all landscapes (and for all audiences) are socially constructed through their presentation. The next chapter discusses in detail one of the methods that I use to accomplish this objective.

Notes

1Pollock, A. (1990), “Tourism Education: Meeting the Needs of the ‘90s”, paper presented to the Tourism Educators Symposium, Vancouver, BC, 23 February 1990. This figure includes domestic tourism. International tourism receipts were estimated at $279 billion in 1992 by the World Tourism Organization. Globe and Mail, 29 May 1993.

2The words modem, aristocratic, mass, and postmodern are used in this chapter to refer to periods of tourism. ‘Modern’ is the broadest of the three. I use it to refer to tourism as it has developed since the Enlightenment. The other terms refer to successive stages of modem tourism. Their qualities are described in the sections that follow.

3See also Biëre (1962), Wolfe (1964), and Smith (1982) for bibliographies of early research on the geography of tourism.

4Early morphological studies by Gilbert, Jones, and others are the basis, nonetheless, for what is one of the largest, and still one of the most common themes in tourism geography (Stansfield and Rickert 1970; Pearce 1978; Jakle and Mattson 1981; Meyer Arendt 1985).

5The percentage of members indicating a topical proficiency in recreation geography, however, actually declined by 20 percent from the late 1970s to the mid 1980s (Mitchell 1979).

6Canada, Department of Industry, Trade and Commerce (1970), 1970 Motivations to Travel and Vacation Trends, Ottawa.

7The Journal of Travel Research is the major forum for applied research on tourism. See also the Journal ofLeisure Research, Leisure Science, and Journal ofApplied Recreation Research.

8See the Annals of Tourism Research (1985) and the Journal of Cultural Geography (1990; 1992). Reviews of research on the historical geography of tourism are found in Towner and Wall (1991) and Towner (1992).

The resort cycle is based on the product life cycle, an idea prominent in the marketing literature. See Cooper and Jackson (1989) for a critical review of the resort cycle and its relation to the product life cycle. The product life cycle idea has also received attention from economic geographers interested in the industrial and marketing sectors. See Storper (1985). 156

‘°See Wall (1983), Haywood (1986), and Cooper and Jackson (1989) for criticisms of the resort cycle as a predictive model. Lundgren is one of the few tourism geographers to have criticized the resort cycle as a historical framework. In a study of tourism in the Montreal Laurentians, he cautions that the resort cycle is concerned with “areal growth and decline based on a singular set of attractions”, and that the cycle cannot as a result be used in studies of resort development over long periods of time (1983: 96).

11Towner also supports the resort cycle in this way. Specifically, he suggests, that the idea has “interesting analogies with Braudel’s concept of cycles and structures in history” (1988: 55). Towner does not, however, elaborate on the parallels between Braudel’s concept of “long durees” that of the resort cycle.

12Veblen’s phrase conspicuous consumption applies to this style of tourism.

‘3Thurot and Thurot (1983) suggest that the aristocratic model of tourism actually lasted until the 1960s in Europe. Its importance, however, began to diminish significantly after the 1920s with the rapid rise of mass tourism.

‘4A broad chronology of mass leisure in Britain has been established, but there have been no systematic attempts to demonstrate its relevance for tourism on continental Europe or North America (Towner and Wall 1991).

‘5This perspective is not limited to conservative critiques but is also found in Marxist studies of mass tourism (Meyersohn 1981; Ley and Olds 1988).

16Fussell defines a pseudo-place as a place that entices by its familiarity, by its “call for instant recognition” (1980: 43).

17Conservative critics are not uniform in their evaluation of these guides. Fussell argues, for instance, that Baedeker guides are distinct from tourist literature because of their emphasis on “seeing and learning ... rather than ... consuming”: ‘Their very tone—secure, precise—suggests the poise, knowledge, and ‘inner-directedness’ of the true traveller, who knows what he wants and what he’s doing” (1980: 62). Others describe the Baedeker style as cold and detached; it lacks the embellishment and emotional involvement of nineteenth century aristocratic tourist literature (Pellegrini 1962; Mendelson 1985).

l8Although the mass culture debates of the 1950s and 1960s are the immediate context, conservative criticism can be traced to the origins of mass tourism. Wordsworth, for instance, was a vehement critic of mass tourism, and, in part, wrote his Guide to the Lake District to protest the invasion of mass tourists into the area. In its opening sentences, Wordsworth describes, that the principle objective of the guide: to furnish “a Companion for the Minds of Persons of taste, and feeling for Landscape, who might be inclined to explore the district of the Lakes with that degree of attention to which its beauty may fairly lay claim.” 157

‘9Overton’s use of Marxist concepts distinguishes his work from most conservative research. Nevertheless, the similarity of his conclusions justifies its inclusion in this literature. The similarities between radical and conservative studies of mass tourism is discussed by Meyersohn (1981). See also Swingewood (1977) and Ley and Olds (1988).

20Overton argues that this false consciousness affects both Newfoundlanders and tourists alike. In the case of locals, it is seen to be both a product of Newfoundland’s long history of out-migration (manifest in a nostalgia for home), and of the reaction to more recent relocation and modernization schemes. Tourism has contributed to this self- consciousness by economically justifying the preservation of a way of life and subsequently by presenting “a concrete utopia” in which Newfoundlanders can substantiate their image of themselves (1980: 134).

21This conclusion is identical to the one presented in O’Brien’s (1988) study of the British Tourist Authority. O’Brien suggests that there is a “dangerous mismatch” between the BTA’s tourist imagery and public reality that threatens the cultural identity of a large, but marginalized segment of British society. O’Brien calls for a “re-imagination”

of Britain to enable “people from the industrial wasteland ... [to] bring themselves back into the nation”.

22See Towner (1985) for an analysis of the social standing of aristocratic tourists. His estimates indicate that the landed classes in England (the aristocracy and gentry) annually accounted for between forty and eighty percent of Grand Tourists during the 1600s and 1700s even though they represented only two to three percent of country’s population. For most members of agrarian, pre-industrial Europe, life was extremely local (Pred 1985). Travel was slow, difficult, dangerous, and expensive. Few could afford the time and money tourist travel required.

23The mix of social classes taking the Grand Tour began to change in the closing decades of the eighteenth century. Towner’s (1985) study indicates that the middle classes— people employed in professions, trades, and the military—constituted a majority of Grand Tourists after 1780. These tourists commonly traveled in larger (family) groups, were older, and took shorter journeys than their aristocratic counterparts. While students from the landed classes often went abroad for several years, the average thp of Grand Tourists in the 1 830s was a comparatively short four months in length. This difference reflects, furthermore, changing motivations for travel. Instead of education, scenery and culture were high on the list for Grand Tourists in the nineteenth century. The middle classes were motivated more by exotic cultures and places made famous in art and literature than by career opportunities.

There are three main theories of the relationship between work and leisure: the ‘spillover’ (the character. of work determines the character of leisure), the ‘compensation’ (leisure compensates for alienated labour), and the ‘segmentation’ (the character of work and leisure are unrelated). Although research in the past tended to favour the spifiover thesis, more recent research has tended to support the idea that the culture of work and 158 leisure are ‘segmented’. This change may reflect on-going changes in work-leisure relationships, and, in particular, the shift to a post-industrial society. This possibility is discussed further in the next section.

Other than the resort cycle, this is one of the few theoretical areas of inquiry to emerge in the North American literature on mass tourism. In fact, while Towner and Wall (1989) describe the history of tourism as “an emerging area of scholarly activity in Europe”, they suggest that it “scarcely deserves even this recognition in North America where the number of researchers is limited and those that exist are working in relative isolation” (1989: 77). Several historical studies of resorts and national parks have been published; however, little theoretical debate has evolved out of this research. Most “North American researchers have tended to undertake detailed case studies, with little attempt to link their investigations to broader themes in history or tourism research”. “North American historical tourism research has not benefited greatly from strong links with leisure research and has not become deeply involved in the theoretical and ideological debates which have occupied British leisure historians” (Towner and Wall 1991: 79).

26See also Wood’s (1993) review of work by Picard and by Errington and Gewertz on cultural tourism in south-east Asia. Errington and Gewertz suggest that the Chambri in Papua, New Guinea interpret the presence of tourists as testimony of the strength and persistence of Chambri tradition. As part of a male initiation ceremony, candidates are met with the challenge “Are you (man) enough to make carvings and place them in the men’s house for tourists to buy?” (Wood 1993: 67).

more recent review of how tourism “has become implicated in the cultural politics of host countries” is found in Wood (1993).

28M earlier, and still forceful, statement of this thesis on a regional scale is Pomeroy’s In Search ofthe Golden West. Writing in the 1950s, Pomeroy argued for a greater place for tourism in histories of the American west. He believed tourism played an intimate role in the transformation of the region’s economy and was implicated in the rapid spread of ‘eastern’ ideas and institutions. Tourism, from Pomeroy’s perspective, was an agency of American cultural diffusion. With it came technology, forms of enterprise, and aesthetics. The tourist, Pomeroy writes, “never simply tours through the West: he changes the West when he looks at it, not only because he wears out the highway pavements, but because Westerners change the West into what they think he wants it to be or, with less commercial intent, even change theniselves into what they think he is” (1957: vii).

Jalde (1985), Jones (1967), and Farrell (1982), and have similarly discussed tourism’s role in creating and validating regional imagery. Jakie refers to tourism as a “vital form of social orientation”, as one of the principal means by which modem Americans came define their country and thus their cultural identity (1985: 2, 22, 199). Similar arguments have also been put forward about the role of tourism in the ‘invention’ of pastoral England and more generally in the ‘discovery’ the Alps (Pimlott 1947; Moir 1964; Nicholson 1963). 159

30Prior to the 1920s, Nova Scotia was known for the picturesque beauty of its western shores and valleys, colletively promoted as The Land ofEvangeline (Morrison 1982; Wynn 1985).

31an Scianders (Maclean’s Magazine, 1 August 1947) quoted in McKay (1988: 38).

32The notion of “postmodernism” is one of potential confusion and ambiguity. Postmodernism, an “awkward neologism” two decades ago, is a cliche that wanders freely through the humanities and social sciences in a variety of contexts (Hassan 1985). Generally it is used to designate either a modem cultural tendency, or to identify a loose body of academic theory. In the first case, postmodernism is a counterpart, although not necessarily a complement to the idea of postindustrialism. Daniel Bell uses this appellation to designate emergent features in the social structure of modem society: the centrality of theoretical knowledge, the primacy of technology and the principle of rationality, and the growth of the service sector and the white-collar occupations. Postmodemism refers to the emergent consumption and self-enhancement ethic in the cultural sphere. It is a reaction to modernism, as the name suggests, in design and in the humanities; it advocates symbolism and historical reference over functionalism and abstraction and prefers hybrid and ambiguous cultural codes to a pure aesthetic (Hassan 1980; Jencks 1981). Postmodernism is also a tendency in academia. Among its leaders, Ihab Hassan lists Jacques Derrida, Hayden White, Thomas Kuhn, Roland Barthes, Robert Venturi, and others from psychology, political science, and literary criticism. This inventory does not indicate a coherent movement or a school of thought, but Hassan believes it evokes “a number of related cultural tendencies, a constellation of values, a repertoire of procedures and attitudes” which are commonly referred to as postmodernist (Hassan 1985: 119). Key among these tendencies is a belief that meaning is established through the use and contexts of language. Whether postmodernism, as a cultural trend and as an academic tendency, can or needs to be understood as the same phenomenon is a point open to debate. Certainly similar values—pluralism for instance—can be discerned. But it can also be argued that they belong to different activity spheres, that one is an ‘elitist strain’, and the other a popular trend. Both are necessary, I think MacCannell would argue, to understand the nature of contemporary tourism.

33B.C. Outdoor Recreation Council (1988), Adventure Tourism..

See Brannigan (1976), Schudson (1979), and Thurot and Thurot (1984).

35See Cohen (1979; 1985b). Graburn argues that the intent of MacCannell’s work was not to “encompass all forms of tourism in all ages and societies”, but rather to provide “a model for the leading sector of modern Western tourism, that of the middle classes ‘scouring the world in search of new experience” (1983: 18).

36This theme is similar to Jenck’s discussion of “doubly-coded” postmodem architecture, combining elements of modern design with those of historical association (1980; 1981). 160

37See the literature, however, on the relationship of work and leisure in contemporary society (Krippendorf 1986). Most commentators here feel that the link is weakening and that leisure activities are becoming the dominant means of constructing social identity. Bosserman, for example, suggests that “Emerging [in (post)modem society] is a current of new values which ... emphasize the centrality of the person, authentic social relationships, the sacredness of nature, the importance of size [small] ... [and] the search for the different or the unique”. These values are acted out in the recovery of community, the appreciation of tradition, and the simplification of life (1980: 40). See also Bacon (1975) and Newman (1983). See Zuzanek and Mannell (1983) for an overview of this literature.

38A “culture seeker”, for example, was identified by positive attitudes towards the opportunity of attending a ballet or an art gallery while on vacation while a “leisure seeker” was more oriented to relaxation and diversionary activities.

39Cohen’s notion of authenticity is also supported by by Duncan (1978) and Redfoot (1984) but conflicts with the perspective found in studies by Boorstin (1964), Relph (1976), and O’Brien (1988).

4°See also Selwyn’s (1993) comparison of structuralist and post-structuralist readings of tourist brochures. In it, Selwyn suggests that imagery in recent tourist literature celebrates boundary fragmentation (spatially, historically, ideologically) and other “schizophrenic” qualities of postmodem culture.

41The Triple Five Corporation, owner of the West Edmonton Mall, was recently sued by Disney over use of the name FantasyLand. Disney successfully argued that FantasyLand was intimately associated with its theme parks and that its image had suffered considerable damage because of the infringement. CHAPTER 4

QUANTITATIVE METHODOLOGY

When I began this study, I planned to use only qualitative methods. Although content analytic studies are common in tourism studies, and have also been used by geographers interested in tourist advertising, I felt qualitative methods are better for interpreting rhetoric. Qualitative methods emphasize the process, meaning, and experience of communication. They are also more sensitive to communication’s cultural and historical contexts. Quantitative studies, in contrast, typically focus on the extrinsic qualities of a text, detailing its content, but failing to explain its rhetorical significance. Others argue that quantification fragments a text and thereby destroys its unity. The meaning of a text is not the sum of its parts. Texts must be interpreted as they are ‘consumed’: whole

(Jensen 1991).

As the study progressed, nevertheless, I quickly recognized the benefits of including some quantitative methods. The mosses of heterogeneous ‘messages’ produced by contemporary culture are difficult to analyze solely with qualitative methods

(Larsen 1991). Qualitative methods are often rich in theory, but they can also be cumbersome to use, especially when a large number of texts are involved.’ Quantitative methods can help in such situations by providing replicative (and occasionally

‘automated’) techniques that make it possible to develop systematic and comparative data sets relatively easily. In light of these complementary advantages, several researchers have recently promoted the use of both quantitative and qualitative methods (Cohen

1993).2 Leiss, Kline, and Jhally (1986), for instance, argue that social scientists should aim for a “middle-range’ methodology” that is both “rigorous and systematic”, yet

“sensitive to multiple levels of meaning” (1986: 175). To construct such a methodology 161 162 the authors wedded semiotics with content analysis in a study of the changes in Canadian magazine advertisements over the last century. Semiotics was used to develop an interpretive framework and to provide illustrative examples. The role of content analysis was to apply the framework systematically to the large data set. Another example of qualitative content analysis is Hart’s (1984b) study of presidential speech. Hart’s study combines rhetorical theory with computerized language analysis. Although the computer is even less sensitive to textual meaning than a trained researcher, it permits larger samples and more variables to be analyzed with greater precision and reliability. Hart’s study examined 380 presidential speeches made since 1945 against twenty-eight rhetorical qualities. A further 481 speeches by business leaders, clergy, social activists, and other politicians were also analysed for comparative purposes. This large sample allowed Hart to evaluate broad trends in the genre, and to evaluate previous assessments of presidential rhetoric. In several cases, the computerized results contrasted sharply with impressionistic interpretations. Hart cautioned, nevertheless, that computerized language analysis should not be used indiscriminately—results are only as strong as the rhetorical theories upon which they are based.

This chapter describes the quantitative methods I added to this study to supplement the ideas and rhetorical methods described in previous chapters. In particular, the chapter describes a computer program (called HyperDiction) I developed

(following Hart’s example) to analyse the rhetoric of tourism advertising. Also described are the sampling procedures used to select texts and passages from texts, the problems inherent in computerized language analysis, and the steps I took to minimize their impact. In addition, the chapter reviews the general results of the computerized language analysis, and offers a revised interpretation of the rhetorical qualities of 163 aristocratic, mass, and postmodem presentations of tourist landscapes. These qualities are subsequently used in the empirical chapters.

The HyperDiction Program

The computer-based methodology used in this study is similar to a computer program

Roderick Hart developed to study the rhetoric of the American presidency (1984a;

1984b). Like Hart’s program, HyperDiction compares texts against lists of words.

These word lists aie a critical component of the program. Words included in each list were chosen in light of rhetorical theories and previous studies, and were collectively used to measure (or mimic) the expected rhetorical qualities of presentations of landscape

(Hart 1984a). The use of word lists thus adds a degree of theoretical sophistication that is not present in programs that report only the frequencies of individual words or images.

The use of word lists, nevertheless, does not ensure quality interpretations. Like the categories of the semiotician, or the ideas of the deconstructionist, word lists must be carefully defmed and constructed if the results are to be meaningful. In total, fourteen word lists incorporating nearly 600 words were developed for this study. The lists are designed to evaluate three rhetorical qualities: thematic orientation, mode of address, and style (for example, the degree of embeffishment found in a text). One of the word lists in the first category, for example, contains words that a tourist promoter might use to describe the landscape from a picturesque aesthetic. Another word list contains words associated with the themes of authenticity and heritage that are common in postmodern presentations of tourist landscapes. A further list is composed of words that are frequently used to ‘personalize’ advertising texts. HyperDiction also rates texts against several indices including word types and sentence length. These lists and indices are described in greater detail below. 164

HyperDiction was constructed with Macintosh’s HyperCard development software. HyperCard has several qualities that recommend it for basic content analysis, with perhaps the most important being HyperCard’s graphic interface.3 Most content analysis programs, including Hart’s, store word lists in data files or in the testing program. This organization limits the user’s ability to inspect and edit word lists.4 In fact, some programs do not permit user-defmed word lists. The only word lists available are those built into the program.5 HyperDiction’s word lists, in contrast, are visible and fully modifiable—word lists can be changed, added, or deleted without quitting the program. This feature permitted rapid testing and editing of word lists.

The HyperDiction program contains four backgrounds. A background is simply an operating environment in which different objects (fields for holding text, and buttons for initiating programs) are placed. The four backgrounds are called Title, Options,

Word List, and Sample Text. The Title card is the first background, and provides basic information about the size of the program. The Options background is the main operating screen. Testing parameters are modified, and word lists and texts chosen for analysis on this background. The Options background also houses programs for exporting results from HyperDiction to other software packages. Individual word lists are stored on separate ‘cards’ (a screen object akin to a data unit) that share the Word List background.6 The Word List background contains subprograms that automatically format word list words for testing. The Sample Text background is also shared by multiple cards. It stores texts and test results. This background also houses programs for importing and exporting texts and data, and for initiating tests. Separate fields are used to store the original sample text, an edited version (all texts are edited for punctuation to facilitate testing), lists of key-words-in-context, frequently used words, 165 and the results of the word list analysis. Examples of the four backgrounds are shown in Appendix D.

Word Lists and Indices

The interpretive framework for this study was assembled to evaluate the way in which landscapes have, and continue to be presented by the state-run tourist organizations. In particular, I have drawn from Pratt’s (1985; 1992) interpretations of Victorian presentations of landscapes; from Lanham’s (1983) analysis of different rhetorical styles; from Dillon’s (1986) analysis of author-audience relationships in advice handbooks; and from Cohen’s (1989) work on postmodern tourism in Thailand. Also consulted were rhetorical studies by Gibson (1966), Leech (1966), and Hart (1984b), and research on tourism advertising by Buck (1977), Pearce (1982), and Craik (1986).

Drawing this diverse theoretical and empirical literature together, I have chosen to focus on three rhetorical dimensions. The first dimension concerns the thematic content of a text: its orientation in terms of visual perceptions, activities, or notions of authenticity.

The second dimension examines the explicit means that authors use to refer to their audiences. The third dimension highlights the text’s stylistic composition, focussing in particular on how ‘tone’ (in this case, the degree to which a text is embeffished or information-oriented) is used to help convey the text’s prominent themes and author- audience relationships. Overall, these dimensions should help identify the rhetorical slant of presentations of tourist landscapes. The contents of these dimensions are discussed in the paragraphs below, while their inter-relationships and associations with historical periods are noted in the concluding sections.

Word lists ranged in size from 10 to over 70 words. Alternative spellings (‘traveler’ and ‘traveller’), plurals (‘tourist’ and ‘tourists’), contractions (‘you’ll’), and 166 adverbial forms of adjectives were included directly in the appropriate word lists. Scores

for each word list were recorded as raw counts. Unlike Hart’s program, HyperDiction

does not combine related word list counts into larger dictionary scores. I decided not to combine word list counts for two reasons. First, the process of adding and subtracting word list and index scores magnifies the problematic assumption (inherent to all content

analytic studies) that the rhetorical significance of a word is directly correlated with the number of times it is used (see ‘assumption of additivity’ under ‘Problems ...‘). Second, although previous studies suggested typical relationships between word list and indices, the validity of those relationships in tourism advertising was uncertain. As it turned out, several anticipated correlations between word lists and indices failed to materialize, or were opposite to what was expected. This result highlights a further advantage of combining qualitative and quantitative methods. Computerized language

analysis provides a check on intuition since it is less likely to be “thrown off track by an idiosyncratic instance or two”, or by interpretations based on different literatures (Hart 1984b).

Thematic Orientation

Six thematic word lists were defined, two for each of the three tourism stages: aristocratic, mass, and postmodem.

1. Visual

This list primarily addresses themes in aristocratic tourism. Specifically it builds on Pratt’s (1992: 204) arguments that the visual appropriation of landscape was one of the central conventions of nineteenth-century travel literature. Victorian explorers and travellers commonly ‘aestheticized’ the landscape by seeing and describing it with reference to art, and, in particular, to the picturesque, ordering their rhetoric in terms of 167 the landscape’s “backgrounds, foregrounds, textures, and symmetries”. MacLaren

(1983) has made a similar argument about the rhetoric of explorers and early travellers in western Canada, and agrees with Pratt that the practice of using artistic principles to interpret landscape was not a trivial exercise. Pratt suggests, in fact, that the “pleasure of the sight single-handedly constitute[d] the value and significance” of much travel prior to the twentieth century (1992: 204). Pratt describes this pleasure as aesthetic, but from a rhetorical stand-point it is also a social pleasure. The ability to use and understand the visual aesthetics of the nineteenth century was a mark of social status, and there is ample evidence that travellers, as well as the tourist industry, used it to construct and motivate their audiences (Pimlott 1947; Shepard 1967; Anderson and Swinglehurst 1978; Newby

1981; Hart 1983). This list tries to identify the importance of a visual perspective in presentations of tourist landscapes through the inclusion of scenic terms such as

‘panorama’ and ‘prospect’, as well as descriptive words such as ‘pastoral’, ‘picturesque’, and ‘sublime’.

2. Investment

This list is also oriented to aristocratic tourism, building on Pratt’s (1985; 1992) observations that European explorers featured the economic potential, as well as the aesthetic qualities of the new world’s landscapes. In particular, Pratt draws attention to the narrative quality of explorers’ texts, arguing that their presentations had a strong futuristic orientation that dramatized the physical environment’s economic potential.

In scanning prospects in the spatial sense—as landscape panoramas— th[e] eye knows itsefto be looking at prospects in the temporal sense— as possibilities for the future, resources to be developed, landscapes to be peopled or re-peopled by Europeans. (1985: 125) 168

Pratt goes on to suggest that these “prospects are one of the main criteria of relevance” in explorers’ presentations of landscapes. “They are what make a plain ‘fine’ or make it noteworthy that a peak is ‘granitic’ or a country ‘well-wooded” (1985: 125). Pratt acknowledges that few explorers explicitly oriented their texts to economic exploitation of new lands. Their primary objective was to provide information about the continent.

However, she believes that insofar as this information processing categorized a ‘reality’ according to a specific way of knowing, the scientific purpose of their ventures was inevitably tied to the expansion of capitalism and the political boundaries of Europe

(1985: 121). Pratt’s general observations are once again supported by studies that address travel in western Canada. MacLaren (1983), for example, suggests that this theme was common in explorers’ reports and in immigrant literature. Similar strategies were used to ‘sell’ British Columbia to English settlers. It was important at the time to convey the appearance of prosperity—or at least its potential—by drawing analogies between the colony and civilized centres of commerce. Hart (1983) also notes that the

Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) featured this theme in its presentations to wealthy English tourists. The CPR was well aware, he suggests, of the tendency for English tourists to go “abroad with the air of landlords inspecting their property” (Hart 1983:

41). The Investment word list was constructed to measure the relative importance of this economic orientation, and the related, but less narrative and more hyperbolic tone, of booster literature that was also prominent at the turn-of-the-century. Specifically, the list was designed to measure changes in the rhetoric of presentations by the British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information. This organization was the forerunner of the

Government Travel Bureau. Its institutional history, and the reasons for its re organization, are discussed in the following chapter. Words associated with the province’s industries as well as ‘optimistic’ terms (‘opportunity’, ‘potential’, ‘progress’) are included in this list. 169

3. Activity

In contrast to the Visual and Investment word lists, the Activity theme features words

associated with the presentation of mass tourist landscapes. The list builds on my own

observations that tourism became more concerned with the promotion of recreational

activities as aristocratic travel declined, and mass tourism emerged in the first half of this century (Nelson 1985). Mass tourism is oriented to ‘doing’ rather than ‘seeing’ (that is, seeing with an eye for artistic qualities), transforming the landscape from an aesthetic backdrop into a recreational stage. The words in this list were also chosen, however, to evaluate the rhetorical flow or pace of a presentation. Lanham (1983) argues that everyday language typically exhibits a running style. A running style is a verb style. It typically features short, quick sentences built around one or two action verbs. The

opposite of a running style is a periodic style. It is a more complex and slower style, weighed down by passive constructions, qualifications, and explicit logic. The running

style, I believe, is more typical of mass presentations, while the periodic is common to aristocratic and perhaps also postmodem presentations. In particular, I expect that activity words are used in mass presentations, not only to indicate what a tourist can do, but, when used as imperative verbs, to create a sense of action and movement in the text itself: “Also take a walk through picturesque historic Gastown. You’llfind that special something.... Browse your way over to Chinatown, it’s like a visit to another country.

Taste the mysteries from dim sum trolleys”.7 Activity words thus help present a landscape as a place of excitement by mimicking the action they describe—they textually

suggest the way a landscape should be experienced. 170

4. Security

The Security list is also oriented to mass tourism, and is composed of tourist industry terms (‘accommodation’, ‘restaurant’, ‘souvenir’) as well as informational and directional words (‘east’, ‘miles’, ‘highway’). The list was developed in line with comments that mass tourist guides are often little more than lists of places to eat, sleep, and shop (Craik 1986). Manuals on the preparation of tourist brochures also emphasize these qualities. For instance, ten out of eleven items that Holloway (1985) suggests mass tourist brochures should include refer to the ‘technical’ aspects of tourism. These items include the mode of transportation, itinerary, accommodation, representatives, costs, special arrangements and documentation (passports), and legal obligations. The emphasis on these ‘basic necessities’ is considered a response to the ‘anxiety’ of mass tourists. The prototype of this theme are Baedeker’s guides. Baedeker’s objective was to provide tourists with all the information that they would need to make their way into unfamiliar regions and cultures. Baedeker’s guides note the cost of hotels, provide advice on what and how to order in restaurants, list train schedules and routing options, and explain the mysteries of foreign currencies and visa regulations.

5. Authenticity

This list was developed to measure the postmodern orientation of contemporary tourist advertising. It includes words such as ‘authentic’, ‘character’, ‘distinct’, and ‘original’ that are used to describe a destination’s unique sense-of-place, and to distinguish thereby

‘real’ attractions and experiences from the spectacles of mass tourism. The list builds upon ideas and observations of MacCannell (1976), Wall and Knapper (1981),

Moscardo and Pearce (1986), and Cohen (1989). The emphasis in this list is on words

associated with culture and heritage. 171

6. Discovery

The discovery word list is similar to the Authenticity list in its orientation to postmodem tourism. However, whereas the Authenticity list emphasizes culture, the emphasis here is on nature. For instance, terms used to convey a sense of the remote and the pristine—

‘rare’, ‘refuge’, ‘remote’, ‘secluded’, ‘species’, ‘trackless’, ‘trek’, and ‘uncultivated’ are examples—are featured in this list. Scientific words, however, are not included.

Although Killingsworth and Palmer (1992) argue that the rhetoric of “ecospeak” frequently uses sciences to both justify its knowledge claims and to establish its audience, it was not possible to compile a sample of scientific words (because of their specialized defmitions) that was either representative or comprehensive..

Modes of Address

Modes of address refer to the way in which authors describe themselves and their audiences. As noted in Chapter Two, Dillon (1986) argues that the choice of pronoun is often critical for establishing the ‘right’ relationship between an author and audience since the ‘textual communicants’ cannot use visual and behavioural clues. However, it should be noted that pronouns may be chosen in accordance with, or to compensate for,

‘actual’ relationships. Featured pronouns must, consequently, be compared thoroughly with other rhetorical evidence.

1. Personal Pronouns

This word list contains first (singular) and second person pronouns (including contractions and possessives) commonly used to personalize a discourse. Authors use these pronouns to create a sense of familiarity and understanding with their audiences 172

(Dillon 1986: 2 1-23). Personal pronouns are commonly used in mass advertising, presumably in an attempt to overcome the anonymity of this genre.

2. Solidarity Pronouns

According to Dillon, the first person plural pronoun ‘we’ is often used by writers to create solidarity between the writer and reader (1986: 23-27). ‘We’ assumes not only familiarity but similarity. In tourist literature, ‘we’ is often used by promoters addressing alternative or adventure tourists. ‘We’ transforms tourism (alienation) into travel (shared experience) by placing hosts and guests on an equal footing.

3. Impersonal Pronouns

This list contains pronouns that address the tourist obliquely: the ‘angler’, the ‘hiker’, the ‘visitor’. These pronouns, Dillon (1986) argues, connote distance and formality, and thus should be characteristic of aristocratic presentations. Yet, one might also expect the social connections between authors and audiences to be closer in aristocratic presentations. The aristocratic tourist audience was much smaller, and thus better defined than either its mass or postmodern counterparts. This familiarity should be reflected in frequent use of either personal or solidarity pronouns. Pratt suggests, nevertheless, that the standard practice of Victorian travel writers was to avoid references to themselves or to their audiences.

Style

Style is concerned with the overall patterns that emerge from an author’s choice of words. The style of a text is critical to the author’s voice, and for the author’s construction of the audience. Style can also influence the content of a text. Pratt suggests, for instance, that a further quality of Victorian travel rhetoric was its “density 173 ofmeaning”. Victorian rhetoric, like Victorian architecture, is rich and ornate.

Descriptive adjectives and adverbial modifiers are abundant. Pratt feels the purpose of this convention was to ‘add material referents to the landscape in order to tie foreign scenes explicitly to the explorer’s home culture’ (1992: 204). Thus mountains were

‘steel-coloured’, mists ‘pearly’, and fields ‘emerald green and marvellously fertile’.

Eight indices and word lists were developed to evaluate this component.

1. Certainty

The Certainty and Qualification word lists build on Dillon’s (1986) and Hart’s (1984b) notion that the relative frequency of assertive and cautious words is an indication of the relative standing of an author and audience (Dillon 1986: 27-30). Authors use certainty words, such as ‘clearly’, ‘all’, ‘indisputably’, and ‘never’, to emphasize their superior knowledge or, to drive home sweeping value judgments: “This trip is unquestionably unsurpassed for beauty of scenery and novelty of experience, together with the general charm and interest which is always attached to a cruise to the land of ‘the midnight sun”.8 A high frequency of certainty words is thought to be typical of mass market advertising in tourism.

2. Qualification

In contrast to Certainty, Qualification words function as markers of equality between author and audience. ‘Actually’, ‘generally’, ‘seem’, ‘many’, ‘could’, and other

‘downtoners’, as Dillon (1986) refers to them, down play the role of the tourist promoter as an authority, and at the same time provide room for the audience to ‘voice’ its experience, attitudes, and ideas. Qualification words are also prominent in Lanham’s periodic style, or in what Gibson (1966) describes as “stuffy talk”. Qualification words slow a text down. They privilege information over action. As such, Qualification terms 174 should be absent in mass presentations but commonplace in aristocratic texts. They may

also be used in postmodern ‘travel’ literature in association with its scientific and historical emphasis.

3. Hyperbole

The Hyperbole word list contains words such as ‘best’, ‘one-of-a-kind’ and ‘fantastic’. Words in this list are associated with the embellished, booster vocabulary of the aristocratic investment theme. They are also expected in mass market advertising.

Critics often contend that mass market advertising is nothing other than strings of stereotypes and exaggerations (Craik 1986; O’Brien 1988). Adventure tourism presentations, in contrast, are expected to avoid hyperbolic terms or to qualify their meaning: ‘perhaps unequalled anywhere’, ‘one ofthe most striking’.

4. Familiarity

Familiarity words include prepositions, relative definitives, and conjunctions that are common in all presentations, but whose frequency, Hart (1984b), Gibson (1966) and

Lanham (1983) argue, are indicative of certain rhetorical styles. These rhetoricians disagree, however, over the interpretation of such words. Hart argues that words such as ‘about’, ‘through’, ‘under’ suggest a relatively simple and informal rhetoric, and are used by authors who want to establish a high degree of familiarity with their audience.

Gibson and Lanham, in contrast, suggest that these words are symptomatic of “stuffy” rhetoric, language characterized by the frequent use of dependent clauses and qualification. If Gibson nd Lanham are correct, aristocratic presentations should score higher in this category, while mass tourist presentations should rank highest if Hart is correct. 175

5. Numbers

Numbers are used frequently in tourism literature to indicate the location and qualities of an attraction. Hart (1984b) argues that high numerical frequency represents a cautious tone. While numbers are fixed, non-negotiable amounts, their significance depends on interpretation. Hart thus suggests that their rhetorical value is akin to Cautious words

(‘about’, ‘many’, and ‘seem’). Given these interpretations, postmodem tourist literature should record high Number scores. However, one might also expect mass tourist presentations to score high on this index in association with the Security word list. This list was split in two parts: verbal numbers (‘one’, ‘two’, ‘three’) were placed in a word list, while the numerals (‘1’, ‘2’, ‘3’) were located separately within the HyperDiction program.

6. Word Types

In addition to the word list counts, the HyperDiction program also counts the number of word types found in a text. The type count is a common measure of a test’s vocabulary

(Hockey 1980). Specifically I followed Hart’s example, and interpreted the number of types as a measure of the text’s ‘linguistic precision’ and literary sophistication (Hart

1984b: 294). It was hypothesized that authors would use a complex vocabulary much in the way that they would use Certainty and Qualification words for developing tone.

Literature directed at well-educated, wealthy, or (and?) young tourists, for instance, is expected to score higher than literature directed at the mass market. The accuracy or sensitivity of the type count depends on the defmition of ‘a different word.’ In

HyperDiction, ‘a different word’ is defined as a unique string of characters. This

definition tends to underestimate vocabulary in terms of non-tagged homographs, but to

overestimate it for words which have the same root meaning but different prefixes and 176

suffixes. ‘Tourist’ and ‘tourists’, for example, would be counted as different words, while ‘lead’ the noun, and ‘lead’ the verb would not. The problems caused by homographs are discussed in greater detail below. Capitalization does not affect the type count.

7. Punctuation

A punctuation score was derived by counting all punctuation except possessive apostrophes. This score was calculated with respect to Gibson’s (1966) observation that mass market advertising uses punctuation more frequently and more haphazardly than other forms of discourse. Punctuation is used in mass advertising not only for emphasis, but to create a more conversational and personal tone.

8. Sentence and Word Length

Sentence and word length counts are also returned by the HyperDiction program. These simple statistics are commonly used as measures of the complexity of a text (Hart 1984b;

Gibson 1966). It is anticipated that authors of texts oriented to the mass market will feature short sentences and words in order to improve their readability. The sentence statistic was calculated by simply counting the number of sentences in a sample (all samples contain the same number of words), while the word length statistic was determined by counting the number of words that exceeded a pre-determined character length. A preliminary test of four word lengths (4,7, 10, 13) found the greatest variation for 7, and it was subsequently used as the length standard.

Other Data

In addition to the word list and stylistic indices, the HyperDiction program also provides

a list of all the words appearing three or more times in a text, and returns the textual 177

context for words that appear in the word lists. These results provide a quick way of

checking texts for key words and for verifying their meaning. Several word list scores were adjusted in light of such comparisons.

Problems with Computer-based Content Analysis

Computer-assisted language analysis poses several theoretical and methodological

problems. Computers cannot read—they are insensitive to context, syntax (the

arrangement of words and grammar), images, and design (font, layout, italics).

Although these problems cannot be eliminated, some can be moderated. This section

discusses two of the major problems faced in content analysis, and the ways I tried deal with them.

Homographs

Homographs are words that are spelled the same, but which have different meanings.

Homographs can cause substantial over-counting in computer-assisted content analysis.

For instance, the word ‘lead’, referring to the mineral, would be recorded as instance of a word list containing the verb ‘lead’. Hart’s Diction (1984a) program deals with homographs by weighting the counts of homographic words to reflect their common usage. In other words, if the word ‘lead’ is commonly used one-third of the time as a verb, its count would be calculated by multiplying an overall ‘lead’ count by O.33.

While Hart’s solution is comprehensive and efficient, I chose the traditional method of tagging homographs. This method uses special characters to distinguish the verb ‘*lead’ from the noun ‘lead’. I chose this method because it is more accurate, and because only a small percentage of my words were homographs. Impersonal pronouns such as ‘him’,

‘her’, ‘they’ were also tagged since I was interested in these pronouns only when they 178 referred to the audience or author. I also tried to control homographic errors by checking word lists counts against the key-word-in-context results.

Assumption of Additivity

HyperDiction, like most other computer language programs, does not evaluate the importance of a word within a text. Rather it assumes that each occurrence of a user- defined word is of equal importance. Hart refers to this assumption as the ‘assumption

of-additivity’: it “implies that a word used 10 times in a given ... passage is somehow twice as ‘important’ as a word used but 5 times” (Hart, 1984a: 103). Rhetoric of course does not necessarily work this way. A single word in the right context can carry more rhetorical weight than multiple occurrences of ‘opposing’ words. Understandably, there are no simpleways to beat this assumption in computer-assisted language analysis.

Programs which attempt to evaluate words in context are complex and inefficient. The problem posed by this assumption was instrumental in my decisions not to combine individual word list scores, to include a key-words-in-context routine, and to use non- parametric statistics for analysing test results. Unlike their parametric counterparts, non- parametric statistics use only the relative value of test results. For example, a non- parametric test would only take into consideration that 10 is larger than 5. This

‘interpretation’ moderates the assumption that each occurrence of a word is of equal importance. Three non-parametric methods were used in this study: the Mann-Whitney

U test, the Kruskal-Wallis test, and the Spearman rank correlation test. The first two methods are used to determine if two samples were drawn from the same population.

Unlike the Student’s T test, which is its parametric equivalent, the Mann-Whitney U-Test evaluates differences in the distribution of sample scores, rather than the differences in their arithmetic means. This test, as a consequence, is less affected by extreme scores.

The Kruskal-Wallis test is an extension of the Mann-Whitney test. It is used to test for 179

significant variation between three or more samples (the Mann-Whitney test is limited to

two samples), and is the non-parametric equivalent of a one way analysis of variance test

(F test). The Spearman rank correlation test, which is similar to the Pearson correlation

test, evaluates the strength of the relationship between two samples. All non-parametric

tests lose infonnation when scores are converted to ranks. All of the non-parametric

tests used in this study, nevertheless, are considered to be nearly as powerful as their parametric counterparts.

Sampling Procedure

Two sampling procedures were used in this study. The first procedure identified suitable texts, and the second passages from within those texts.

Texts

A stratified sampling procedure was used to select texts for analysis. The sample was

stratified to fit the different historical periods under study: aristocratic (1880 to 1920),

early mass tourism (1921 to 1945), mass tourism (1946 to 1992), and postmodem (1980

to 1992). In total 150 samples were chosen, 30 for the first three periods and 60 for the

last. A larger sample was taken for the latter period because of the diversity of authors in

this ‘genre’ and because of the relative brevity of postmodem presentations. I also tried

to ensure that the government of British Columbia’s ‘flagship’ publications were well represented. For the postmodern period, only texts, or sections of texts, explicitly

presenting adventure and cultural tourism were included. Some large, repeatedly issued publications were sampled more than once. 180

The sample was also stratified to emphasize presentations by the provincial government. Sixty-two of the 150 texts sampled were issued by the provincial government. Other texts sampled include presentations by:

Canadian PacWc Railway: A total of 17 presentations by the CPR were included to reflect its status as one of the principal promoters of tourism in western Canada prior to 1945. Samples emphasize descriptions of British Columbia and the National Parks of Alberta.

Other State Tourist Organizations: Twenty-six presentations published by national, provincial, regional, and municipal governments or closely affiliated organizations were also included for comparison. Again presentations focussing on British Columbia or neighbouring regions were emphasized.

Postmodern Tourism Operations: This sample was comprised of 30 presentations by companies promoting adventure tourism. Samples were selected randomly from a collection obtained through Tourist Information Centres and tour agencies specializing in alternative vacations. Only samples with adequate text (500 words) were included.

Heritage Tourism: A separate sample of 15 presentations of heritage walking and driving tours was included. These presentations are postmodern in terms of subject matter, but differ in authorship (commonly being state-run or assisted organizations) and purpose (often non-profit) from presentations in the previous category. Samples from British Columbia and Alberta were analyzed.

These comparative samples made it possible to track changes in the government of

British Columbia’s presentations of landscapes with greater assurance, and to discover if, and how its rhetoric is distinctive from authors. Only printed material was sampled in all cases. Although maps, audio, computerized, and visual images were also collected, 181 no attempt was made to transcribe these materials into text. The composition of the sample by period and author are shown in Figure 4.1.

Words

Paragraphs collectively totaling five hundred words were randomly selected from each of the sample texts. Paragraphs were used as the sampling unit in order to preserve the continuity of the text, and to facilitate the examination of key words and paragraphs in context. This procedure was also more objective than Hart’s method of sampling only the middle of a text, and was more practical than random sampling by word. Captions to illustrations, tables, and maps, as well as advertisements, and other miscellaneous texts were not included. Only the running text was sampled.

The statistical significance of the sample sizes (n=500 words) is not as great as one would like. Statistically, sample sizes of 500 words are adequate ifpO. 17, where p is the probability that a word is contained in a word list. When n equals 500 and pO.l7, the standard error of p is less than ten percent about p. However, most of the probability scores for the word lists were less than 0.05. At this level of probability, the standard error becomes quite large in relation top. For example atp=0.02 and n=500, the standard error ofp is 0.00626, or over 30 percent of p (the range aboutp being

0.00773 to 0.03227 at the 95% confidence level).’0 Unfortunately, extremely large samples are needed to achieve significantly lower standard errors. For example, when p=O.O2 a sample of 4900 words is required to achieve a standard error of 0.002 (ten percent ofp), or a range of 0.016 1 to 0.02392 at the 95% confidence level. Atp=0.01 and S.E.=0.001, the required sample size jumps to 9900 words. Since most tourist brochures do not contain this many words, the 500 word standard used by Hart (1984b) was retained. Larger sample sizes were not justified, furthermore, in the terms of the 182

Figure 4.1

Sample Distribution by Period and Author

60

50

N .— 40 ri BC Gov’t CPR E 30 EJ Other States D Adventure 20 Q Heritage

10

C Aristocratic Early mass Mass Posimodern Period 183 overall testing procedure. Large samples of tens to hundreds of thousands of words are used in studies of canonical texts. The purpose of this study, in contrast, was to characterize the rhetoric of stages of tourism. It was considered more important, therefore, to maximize the number of texts sampled per period.

Rhetorical Patterns in Tourism Advertising

Periodic Differences

Given the purpose of the HyperDiction program—to assess quantitatively whether and how the rhetoric of the government of British Columbia’s presentations of tourist landscapes changed—it was imperative that the word lists and other indices exhibit statistically significant variation across the four periods. An analysis of this variation using the Kruskal-Wallis test found statistically significant differences in fifteen of the eighteen word lists and indices for the overall sample. Only the Punctuation and Word

Length indices and the Impersonal word list failed to show significant differences (Table

4.1). Significant variations were also common among texts issued by the British Columbia government (Table 4.2). In this case 12 of 18 lists and indices showed significant differences. The only statistically insignificant index in both tests was

Punctuation. However, further analysis of this index found significant variation between key authors, and it was consequently retained as a rhetorical variable.

Word List and Index Correlations

Correlation matrices were constructed to help identify significant relationships and patterns between word lists and indices. The matrix for all sample texts is presented in

Table 4.3. Table 4.4 shows correlations when only texts published by the British

Columbia government are considered, while Table 4.5 is a summary of significant 184 Table 4.1 Rhetorical Comparison of All Sample Texts by Historical Period Kruskal-Wallis Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Early Mass Mass Tourism Postmodem 1887-1920 1921-1945 1946-1992 1980-1992 Word Lists (N=30) (N=30) (N=30) (N=60) H

Sentences 29.1 57.3 93.8 98.6 *62.0 Punctuation 69.6 74.3 78.8 77.5 0.9 Types 59.1 61.7 95.0 80.9 *14.3 Word Length 66.5 82.4 79.3 74.7 2.3 Numbers 65.8 55.3 82.2 87.1 *131 Familiarity 127.0 82.5 67.4 50.3 *64.1 Certainty 96.5 81.0 73.8 63.0 *12.6 Qualification 106.9 77.0 80.8 56.4 *279 Hyperbole 104.3 88.9 63.9 60.2 *25.9

Personal 56.7 52.2 84.7 91.9 *252 Solidarity 64.1 49.4 63.7 100.0 *453 Impersonal 79.0 87.0 77.2 67.1 4.6

View 80.1 95.1 68.1 67.2 *99 Investment 100.6 78.1 75.3 61.7 *16.4 Activity 49.8 68.1 93.6 83.0 *18.5 Security 60.0 85.5 87.2 72.4 *8.0 Authenticity 56.0 61.0 72.1 94.2 *20.9 Discovery 57.0 63.6 73.9 91.5 *16.3

H values coffected for ties

* = signifIcant

Critical Value = 7.8 at p = .05 185 Table 4.2 Rhetorical Comparison by Period of Texts Issued by the BC Government Kruskal-Wallis Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Early Mass Mass Tourism Postmodern 1887-1920 1921-1945 1946-1992 1980-1992 Word Lists (N=19) (N=13) (N=15) (N=15) H

Sentences 14.9 25.5 48.1 41.1 *34.6 Punctuation 25.4 28.6 36.8 36.4 4.9 Types 21.0 27.2 35.1 45.0 *16.2 Word Length 27.1 39.3 38.7 23.2 *9.1 Numbers 29.8 26.2 39.2 30.5 4.1 Familiarity 49.1 33.3 24.4 14.8 *334 Certainty 35.4 34.9 28.7 26.4 2.9 Qualification 43.3 24.9 29.0 24.8 *12.2 Hyperbole 38.9 30.4 25.2 29.4 5.3

Personal 25.8 16.5 37.0 46.3 *23.8 Solidarity 29.8 25.0 30.2 40.5 *8.9 Impersonal 26.9 39.8 24.3 37.3 *8.1

View 27.1 43.0 28.7 30.0 7.3 Investment 44.3 30.8 29.3 18.2 *18.2 Activity 19.9 21.8 36.9 49.2 *27.4 Security 18.8 37.2 37.5 36.6 *13.7 Authenticity 27.8 30.8 31.2 37.1 2.3 Discovery 24.4 28.6 29.6 44.9 *12.0

H values corrected for ties

* = significant Critical Value =7.8 at p=.05 TABLE 4.3

Summary Correlation Matrix Spearman Rank Test z scores, critical value 1.96,p = 0.05 two tailed test Sentences (N= 150)

- Punctuation Punctuation 2.9 Types Types 0.4 1.8 Word Length Word Length 1.8 0.7 0.8 Numbers Numbers 4.1 0.6 -1.2 1.0 Familiarity Famil. -6.7 -3.6 -3.4 -1.0 -1.3 Certainty Certainty -2.0 0.8 0.0 -6.1 -2.4 0.4 Qualification Qualification -4.8 -1.2 -0.2 -1.6 -3.8 4.4 2.2 Hyperbole Hyperbole -3.5 0.3 -6.5 0.5 -3.0 2.4 4.0 1.9 Personal Personal 3.1 2,7 3.8 -3.5 -1.8 -6.0 1.3 -1.2 -0.8 Solidarity Solidarity 2.1 1.8 2.2 -2.4 -1.2 -4.2 0.4 0.4 -0.6 6.5 Tm ersonal Impersonal -2.6 -0.7 1.7 0.2 -5.1 0.4 3.0 3.1 1.9 0.1 0.0 View View -2.1 -0.1 1.0 -0.7 -3.0 0.3 1.1 -0.3 2.8 2.0 0.2 1.5 Invest Invest -1.6 1.2 -0.4 2.6 1.2 3.6 -0.2 1.7 1.2 -4.4 -3.4 -1.8 -1.1 Activity Activity 3.3 2.6 3.6 -2.4 -2.8 -6.5 1.2 -0.2 0.1 7.0 4.0 2.8 1.0 -4.5 Security Security 0.7 0.6 -0.4 0.7 2.4 -1.3 -2.2 -0.5 -1.9 -0.6 -1.4 -0.1 -0.1 -1.1 0.7 Authenticity Authenticity 2.9 -0.8 0.6 1.6 1.3 -0.7 -3.2 -1.9 -2.1 0.7 2.2 -0.6 -0.3 1.3 -0.3 -2.0 Discovery 1.3 0.8 2.2 0.1 -2.8 -4.0 2.4 0.1 0.2 3.3 5.4 3.0 0.9 -2.6 5.0 -0.2 2.0

00 TABLE 4.4

Government Sample Correlation Matrix Spearman Rank Test z scores, critical value 1.96,p = 0.05 two-tailed test (N=62) Sentences Punctuation Punctuation 3.0 Types Types 2.1 0.6 Word Length Words >7 1.1 1.2 1.5 Numbers Numbers 2.7 1.9 0,2 -0.5 Familiarity Familiarity -5.3 -3.6 -3.4 -1.5 -1.0 Certainty Certainty -0.3 -0.2 -0.5 0.3 0.1 1.0 Qualification Qualification -2.4 -0.7 -1.7 -1.3 -1.4 3.3 0.9 Hyperbole Hyperbole -2.1 -2.6 -1.3 -1.2 -2.7 2.3 1.9 0.7 Personal Personal 3.2 2.3 2.3 -1.7 0.6 -3.6 -0.3 -0.5 1Sority Solidarity 1.0 1.8 1.3 -1.8 -1.0 -1.4 0.4 0.4 0.9 3.9 [rsonal Impersonal -0.5 -0.2 1.9 0.3 -1.6 -0.6 1.4 1.2 0.9 -0.5 0.6 View View -0.6 -0.5 0.5 0.3 -2.5 -0.2 -0.4 -1.5 1.0 0.6 1.0 -0.5 Invest Invest -2.5 -0.8 -1.6 1.3 0.8 3.1 1.3 1.2 0.7 -2.0 -3.4 -1.8 -0.8 Activity Activity 5.0 3.2 2.2 0.2 0.4 -5.3 -0.7 -1.2 -1.1 3.9 2.7 1.1 -0.8 -3.8 Security Security 3.4 1.9 0.9 0.9 2.9 -3.2 -1.9 -2.2 -2.8 1.0 0.1 -0.3 0.6 -2.1 1.8 Authenticity Authenticity 0.2 -0.8 1.2 -0.1 -0.4 -0.5 -0.7 -0.2 -1.1 1.1 1.4 0.5 -0.4 -1.3 0.8 -1.0 Discovery 1.5 1.6 1.3 0.6 0.6 -2.7 0.1 -0.1 -0.9 1.4 1.0 0.6 -0.7 -1.6 4.0 0.7 1.2

00 TABLE 4.5

Significant Correlations Matrix Speannan Rank Test G = BC Government Sample T = Total Sample sign indicates direction of correlation

Sentences Punctuation Punctuation GT Types Types G Word Length Words >7 Numbers Numbers GT Familiarity Familiarity -G-T -G-T -G-T Certainty Certainty -T -T -T Qualification Qualification -G-T -T GT T Hyperbole Hyperbole -G-T -G -T -G-T GT T Personal Personal GT GT GT -T -G-T ISolidarity Solidarity T T -T -T GT [rsonal Impersonal -T -T T T View View -T -G-T T T Invest Invest -G T GT -G-T -G-T Activity Activity GT GT GT -T -T -G-T GT GT T -G-T Security Security G GT -G -T -G -G -G Authenticity Authenticity T -T -T T -T Discovery T -T -G-T T T T T -T GT T

00 00 189 correlations for both samples. The latter table indicates that significant correlations for the overall and the government samples were always in the same direction. However, the overall sample reported more significant relationships, suggesting that the government’s rhetoric is less distinct as a style than those of other organizations. This observation may reflect the diversity of the government’s (mass) audience. Other tourist promoters—the CPR at the turn-of-the-century as well as adventure tourism companies at present—can develop ‘stronger’ rhetorical styles because their audience is narrower and better defined. The following section describes the major word lists correlations evident in this preliminary analysis. These observations, in turn, form the basis for part of the analysis in the empirical chapters that follow.

1. Style

The correlation results indicate that the Stylistic lists and indices can be broken into two groups. One group contains the Familiarity, Certainty, Qualification, and Hyperbole word lists, while the other includes Sentences, Punctuation, Word Types, Word Length, and Numerical frequency. The first group is more internally cohesive, and given its association with an Impersonal mode of address and aristocratic aesthetics, appears to be indicative of a highly embellished style. However, the mix of this group seems strange given Hart’s (1984b) interpretation that Qualification terms (‘almost’, ‘could’,

‘perhaps’), along with numbers and high type scores, are indicative of a cautious style, while Certainty (‘all’, ‘definite’, ‘none’), Familiarity, and Hyperbolic words are characteristic of a more direct and active mode of communication. The positive correlation of these stylistic categories, and their correlation with Aristocratic themes and modes of address, suggests that these terms are not used to justify or heighten a description, but rather function collectively as abstractions to aesthetically codify a landscape. This explanation is substantiated by strong negative correlations between 190 these lists and the Word Length and Number indices. A description of the Columbia

Valley in an early publication of the British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information illustrates how qualification, certainty, and hyperbole can be combined for effect:’1

Many writers have essayed a description of the scenery of this magnificent valley, but no possible jugglery of word or phrase can interpret its bewilderment of grandeur and beauty. Memories of English fens, of Scottish moors, of Irish lakes and glens, of Italy’s sunny slopes, of German forests, of the towering peaks of the Appenines and the Alps haunt the mind of the traveller as his vision sweeps the valley; but there is a subtle difference that balks comparison, for here the more delectable charms of all those varied scenes are blended in one majestic picture. Here is inspiration for generations of poets, material for armies of artists, enterprises to whet the ambition of the most enthusiastic mountain- climber, endless opportunity to test the skill, endurance, and pluck of the big-game hunter and satisfy the cravings of the most exclusive angler, while those who seek only rest and quiet can fmd ideal retreats in which to enjoy the dignity and delight of absolute isolation and repose.

The sentences here are long and richly qualified. Comparatives abound. Yet, hyperbole dominates the passage’s overall tone: the Columbia Valley is inspiration for “generations

of poets ... armies of artists” (alliteration taking precedence over imagery), and challenge

for even “the most enthusiastic mountain-climber ... [and] most exclusive angler”.

Familiarity’s strong positive correlation with Qualification and Hyperbole, on the

one hand, and negative correlation with Sentences, Punctuation, and Word Types, on the

other, supports Gibson’s (1966) and Lanham’s (1983) (over Hart’s 1984b)

interpretation of this index. Definitives, conjunctions, and prepositions are much more common in embellished texts. I have broken a sentence from the above example into its

grammatical components to illustrate the frequency of Familiarity words (italicized), and 191 the degree of qualification in embellished presentations. Familiarity words are often used in place of punctuation to string qualifying phrases together.

Memories (main clause) of English fens (qualification, elaboration) of Scottish moors ofIrish lakes and glens ofItaly’s sunny slopes of German forests of the towering peak of the Appenines and the Alps

haunt the mind (main clause) ofthe traveller (qualification) as his vision sweeps the valley; but there is a subtle difference (secondary clause, qualifying qualifications) that balks comparison, (qualification) for here the more delectable charms (secondary clause) of all those varied scenes (qualification) are blended (secondary clause) in one majestic picture. (qualification)

Significantly, the average Familiarity score for presentations published before 1920 is more than one standard deviation greater than the average Familiarity score for the total sample (Appendix B 1 and B2).

In distinction to the highly embellished tone of the first group, the grouping of

Sentences, Punctuation, Word Types, Word Length, and Numerical frequency indices constitutes an informational style. This style is more informal and direct (short sentences, abundant punctuation), and emphasizes facts and detail (evident in the high 192 numbers, type, and word length scores) over abstractions—it seeks action rather than reflection. A recent description of the Columbia region in the British Columbia Travel

Guide (published by the Ministry of Tourism) contrasts strongly with the example above:

In mountains like these, it’s only natural that you should find excellent conditions for river rafting, heli-hiking, windsurfing and other action- packed activities. But our mountains hold other adventures, too—like terrific fishing for rainbow, brook, lake and cutthroat trout. After all that activity, you’d probably enjoy a relaxing soak at Radium Hot Springs, which has two outdoor pools, averaging 35°C. Fairmont Hot Springs has even more to offer—four pools with an average temperature of 40°C. If you’d like to get off the beaten track and into really hot water, try Lussier Hot Springs near Canal Flats—the temperature there is 44°C.’2

Compared to the previous example, sentences in this passage are relatively compact

(containing approximately 20 words per sentence compared to over 50 words per sentence in previous example) while punctuation is common. Numbers, proper nouns,

and action words predominate. Tourists are told to ‘find’, ‘enjoy’, ‘soak’, and ‘get off the beaten track’. While cliches are common (‘only natural’, ‘action-packed’, ‘really hot water’), hyperbole is relatively absent. Earlier studies did not anticipate this result. The

absence of hyperbole, nonetheless, may indicate that authors are sensitive to criticisms of

mass tourist advertising. ‘Composition’ handbooks recently published by the British

Columbia government advise authors of investment and tourist literature to stick to the

facts.13 The correlation results may also indicate that the visibility of hyperbole in a text

depends on how it is combined with other words. In embellished texts, hyperbole is

common, yet softened by the comparative frequency of Qualification and Certainty terms. Hyperbole, in other words, blends into an embellished style. In contrast,

hyperbole tends to stand out in the spartan passages and informational content of mass

tourist presentations. 193

The informational style is correlated, as this passage indicates, with a personal mode of address (Table 4.3). However, the internal correlations are not as strong as those found in the embellishment group, and are occasionally contradictory (compare the correlations between these indices and the Personal and Activity word lists). This variation suggests that the informational style can be broken into two subgroups: an informal style delimited by high Sentence, Punctuation, and Word Types scores, and positively correlated with the Personal and Activity categories, and a formal style characterized by high Word Length and Number scores, but negatively with all modes of address. A good example of the informal style is the passage cited above while Heritage guides characterize the formal style. Heritage guides rarely engage the audience directly, choosing instead to relay facts and figures in the style of a history text. The following example is taken from a walking guide for the community of Belleview in southwest

Alberta.

The manager of the operation was George Pattinson. Born in England in 1879, he had immigrated to Canada in 1905. During his tenure as manager a third kiln was added and a small community grew up around the planc Known as Lime City, it included a number of bunkhouses for the hired men, a small office and a larger residence for Pattinson and his family.’4

2. Address

I have already noted that personal modes of address are correlated with informal

informational indices and lists, and that impersonal modes are associated with an

Embellishment style. The reverse correlations (the Personal list correlated negatively

with Embellishment, and the Impersonal list correlated negatively with Informational list

and indices) also hold. However, the Personal and Impersonal lists are themselves

poorly correlated suggesting that the overall rhetorical style of a presentation cannot be 194 inferred from the mode of address alone. Furthermore, all three modes of address exhibit strong positive correlations with the Visual, Active, and Discovery word lists.

This result was unexpected. It was anticipated that Impersonal would correlate with

Visual, Personal with Active, and Solidarity with Discovery and Authenticity. However, the relationships do hold when the relative importance of the three modes is taken into consideration. For example, the average scores for all modes of address for the

Adventure Tourism sample are at, or above, the averages for the overall sample

(Appendix B3 and B 1). The Adventure Tourism sample, in fact, recorded the highest average for the Personal list. The key mode, nevertheless, appears to be Solidarity. The average Solidarity score for Adventure texts is more than twice the average for any other author-period group, and is more strongly correlated with the Authenticity and Discovery word lists than are the other two modes. The combination of these Aesthetic categories with Solidarity gives the potential tourist a sense of immediacy and importance. Many adventure companies sell their tours as an opportunity to enter a privileged comnumily of like-minded, and politically correct anti-tourists. An example from a Dragoman brochure promoting overland tours in South America and Africa illustrates this quality well:

Our world is a world of Overland Travel. Overlanding is probably the best and in some cases the only way to get a true insight into an area, its people, history and culture. Our work! is a world where tribal peoples are not just an exotic image in a documentary, but a day to day reality. We are privileged to live alongside these people in their own environment. Our world gives us an insight into their lifestyles and cultures with the realisation that many of our western ideals are at the best narrow and at the, worst ignorant. An overland expedition is an education for everyone on the trip, broadening horizons and challenging existing opinions. (emphasis added)15 195

The use ‘we’, ‘our’, and ‘everyone’ is very dramatic in this passage. Not only are the solidarity pronouns used to unite guide and tourist, but the repeated combination of the phrase ‘our world’ (known as anaphora), and the build up of antithesis between the reality and enlightenment of Overland Travel, and the surface and ignorance of mass tourism, work to extend the relationship to a universal community of travellers. By the end of this passage, any distinctions between guide, tourist, and the ideals of postmodern travel have evaporated. Guide and tourist embark on a common journey where education rather than indulgence or profits are the motivation.

3. Thematic Orientation

The correlation analysis found fewer significant relationships between the thematic categories than expected. It was anticipated, for instance, that the Visual and Active, and

Active and Authenticity categories would show strong negative correlations, while the

Visual and Investment, Activity and Security, and Authenticity and Discovery pairs would register positive associations. Two of the correlations were in the anticipated directions, but only the Authenticity and Discovery pairing was significant. There are two explanations for this result. First, the individual aesthetic orientations in the case of the Visual and Investment, and Activity and Security pairs are associated with different stylistic groups and modes of address. Activity, for instance, is strongly correlated with the informal informational style and Security is associated with its formal variant. The second explanation for the weak correlations is that the aesthetic orientations have a limited temporal range. For example, words found in the Visual list are still used in presentations of tourist landscapes today, but rarely in the formal, aesthetic way they were used in presentations at the turn-of-the-century. Since the computer cannot discriminate between the ways in which key words are used, the use of a key word in a variety of contexts inevitably weakens the correlation between an aesthetic orientation 196 and its ‘natural’ time period. A correlation analysis of View and Investment scores for only the first period returned a significantly negative result, although similar period restrictions did not increase the significance of other thematic pairs. The problem posed by the temporal specificity of the thematic lists does not mean that they are unsuitable for characterizing rhetorical styles. Tables 4.1 and 4.2 and Appendix B2 indicate that the temporal trends of aesthetic pairs are remarkably consistent with expectations. These results suggest, nevertheless, that the scores for an aesthetic category must be interpreted cautiously, and always with respect to the temporal period.

Overall Styles

In Figure 4.2 and Table 4.6, I have tried to combine the results of the correlation analysis and the theoretical discussions in previous chapters to identity the central characteristics of the rhetorical styles and periods in question. The lines in Figure 4.2 indicate positive correlations, while the ratings in Table 4.6 provide estimates of the comparative temporal frequency of the rhetorical qualities. These charts are not inclusive—they do not contain all the rhetorical qualities of a particular style. Nor do these charts accommodate the full range of rhetorical combinations that may be found within a period. They do, however, provide an idealized framework for interpreting the results of the computerized content analysis in the remainder of the study.

Conclusion

Content analysis programs such as HyperDiction enable cultural geographers interested in language and landscape to analyze large samples of text. Quantitative methods should not be considered, however, the antithesis of their qualitative counterparts. If used judiciously and creatively, the two can complement one another. Quantitative methods ______

Figure 4.2 General Rhetorical Patterns

Embellished Informational

Informal Formal

Familiarity Certainty Short Sentences Long Words Style Qualification Frequent Punctuaion Frequent Numbers Hyperbole High Type Count

1 Mode of personal Solidarity Personal j Few Direct References Address I I

Theme Activity [urity [Investment IView I IAuthenticity- Discovery I I I

General Period Aristocratic Postmodern Mass Mass Aristocratic 198

Table 4.6

Major Rhetorical Differences Between Historical Periods

Aristocratic1 Early Mass Mass Tourism Postmodem Lists/Indices 1887-1920 1921-1945 1946-1992 1980-1992

Style Informational -Informal low medium high medium -Formal medium medium low/medium low Embeffished high/medium medium low medium

Address Personal low medium high medium Solidarity low low medium high Impersonal high medium low low

Theme View high medium low Investment high low low Activity medium/low high high medium Security medium/low medium high medium Authenticity low low high Discovery low medium high

1Where two ratings are given, the first refers to the embellished style and the second to the formal informational style. 199 cannot replace humanistic methods; however, their inclusion can make rhetorical studies more systematic.

Notes

‘Larsen (1991) points out that many qualitative methods were originally developed for interpreting a few canonical texts at a time.

2The idea of combining qualitative and quantitative methods is not new in geography. See, for instance, Ley’s (1974) analysis of black neighbourhoods in Philadelphia.

3The basic advantages and disadvantages of using HyperCard as a means for language analysis applications are discussed in Nelson (1992).

4Hart (1984a) notes that one of the drawbacks of Diction is that the real or practical use of the program is limited to the genre of texts it was originally designed to evaluate.

5See Hart (1984a) for a review of several computer-based content analysis programs including Diction and TheGeneral Inquirer (Stone et al 1966). See also Hockey (1980) and Lancashire (1991) for a review of other computer-assisted language analysis programs.

6There is no practical limit to the number of word list cards that can be included in HyperDiction. HyperDiction could easily accommodate 100 word list cards, although analyzing a text in relation to such a large number of variables would prove tedious. Up to 30,000 characters or approximately 5000 words may be defmed in a word list (Nelson 1992).

7B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1989), Travel Guide.

8CPR (1911), Pacific Coast Tours Through the Canadian Pacific Rockies.

9Hart based homograph weighting on the Brown Corpus. The Brown Corpus is a large, diversified collection of texts that was assembled to provide a representative sample of American English. A similar collection has been compiled for British English.

‘°The formula for calculating the Standard Error of a sample when working with probabilities is S.E.=q where p = the probability that a word is in a word list q = the probability that a word is not in the word list (q = i-p) n = the sample size 200

“B.C., Bureau of Provincial Information (1911), Columbia-Kootenay Valley, and its resources and capabilities, Bulletin Number 26. Mean scores for the Aristocratic sample were higher than the overall mean scores for all four of these lists (Appendix B2)

‘2B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1992), Travel Guide.

‘3B.C., Ministry of Affairs, A Guide to Text Preparation to Community Investment Brochure, 1986. The Guide suggests that “Generally, the tone of [the] brochure should be business-like and factual. The brochure should avoid being too subjective and ‘booster-like”.

‘4Alberta Culture (1989), Historical Driving Tour: Bellevue, Crowsnest Pass.

15Dragoman (1991), Asia, Africa, South America: Overland Expeditions, Put Yourself in the Picture! CHAPTER 5

TOURISM AND THE STATE:

A CONTEXTUAL DISCUSSION

When I began this study I had hoped to combine analysis and context in one seamless discussion. However, the product proved anything but, and so I opted for a simpler organization.’ This chapter focuses on context. It charts the institutional history of the state’s participation in the tourist industry, and outlines the broad contours of tourism in

British Columbia and Canada over the past century. The formation of the Government

Travel Bureau in British Columbia in the 1920s and 1930s receives special attention, as does the emergence of postmodern tourism in the 1980s and 1990s. The chapter is broken into three major sections. The first describes events from 1900 to 1940, the second, the situation from 1945 to the 1970s, and the third, events in the 1980s and

1990s.

The Beginnings of Tourist Promotion

Studies of the early history of tourism in British Columbia and western Canada have paid little attention to the role of the state. In fact, it is commonly argued that the state was slow to recognize the economic importance of tourism, not becoming involved until the post-war expansion of the industry was well underway.2 This argument is both incorrect and simplistic to the degree that it overlooks the context against which state participation evolved. The provincial government of British Columbia officially became involved in the promotion of tourism in the 1930s, although it had explicitly pursued this market since the 1920s, and had established a promotional bureau at the turn-of-the-

century. The situation was similar in other provinces, with the 1930s witnessing the

201 202 establishment of tourist bureaus in all provinces and in Ottawa. This section describes the beginnings of the state’s involvement in tourist promotion, and the development of the tourist industry in British Columbia prior to 1945. The analysis relies heavily on departmental reports, the proceedings of government inquiries, and newspaper accounts.

Since a large proportion of this data have not been previously reported, extensive footnotes and tables are provided.

The Origins of State Participation in Tourist Promotion

To address the origins of state participation in tourist promotion, I have broken the discussion into three parts. The first two parts examine the formation and activities of the Bureau of Provincial Information, the forerunner of the Government Travel Bureau, between 1900 and 1914, and 1914 and 1924. Although the Bureau focussed on immigration rather than tourism during these periods, it set the context against.which the

Bureau’s later involvement in the tourist industry unfolded. Furthermore, the intended

audience and rhetorical content of the Bureau’s promotional material is very similar to that found in tourist guides. In fact, many considered tourist promotion as a means of

attracting potential settlers and investors.3 The third part describes tourist promotion from the mid 1920s to 1940, emphasizing the events that caused the state to become

actively involved in the industry. The magnitude and development of early tourism are addressed separately following this discussion.

Formation of the Bureau of Provincial Information

The Bureau of Provincial Information was formed in 1900 through an amalgamation of

the Bureaus of Statistics and Immigration, and in accordance with provisions made in the

“Legislative Library and Bureau of Statistics Act” of 1 894. Its responsibilities,

reflecting its institutional heritage, included the compilation of economic and 203 demographic statistics, the collection of archival materials, the indexing of provincial newspapers, and the promotion of immigration. The promotion of tourism was not explicitly added to these activities until 1924, although the Bureau had issued bulletins on hunting and fishing, and frequently addressed British Columbia’s tourist potential in their early literature. The Bureau was initially housed within the Provincial Secretary’s

Department, reflecting the close association of its first head, R.E. Gosnell, with James

Dunsmuir, the premier of British Columbia from 1900 to 1902. Tn 1907 the Bureau was placed within the Ministry of Finance,5 where it remained until the mid 1930s when the

Bureau was renamed and placed within the newly created Department of Trade and Industry.

The Bureau was not the first government organization to issue promotional material in British Columbia. As early as 1860, the government of Vancouver Island, or people whose interests were closely associated with it, had published literature to attract settlers to a province long on resources but short on labour and capital (Robinson 1958;

MacLaren 1983). Since 1884, moreover, funds were annually allocated for the management and promotion of immigration. These funds were primarily spent by the Immigration Bureau, in association with Department of Agriculture, although other departments were also involved. However, amounts were small and fluctuated widely from year to year (Table 5.1). Until the formation of the Bureau, the government does not appear to have had any coordinated marketing strategy.

The Bureau was established during a period of rapidly increasing immigration.

In British Columbia the number of immigrants entering the province from other countries rose from 2,600 in 1901, to a peak of 57,960 in 1913.6 The increase was even more dramatic in the other western provinces and territories. In total the population of Alberta,

Saskatchewan, and Manitoba increased by nearly 1 million people between 1901 and 204

Table 5.1

Government of British Columbia Immigration Expenditures

Year Expenditures ($)‘ 1883 2869 1884 5405 1885 2729 1886 2244 1888 4758 1889 700 1891 1798 1892 3935 1893 2041 • 1894 3557

1895 5593 V 1896 V 1897 2243 1898 2159 1899 1120 1900 1200

‘B.C., Public Accounts. Data does not include expenditures by the agent General in London, England. All figures are current dollars and thus do not discount inflation. Figures for 1885 and 1886 are only half year totals. 205

191 i. It is difficult, nevertheless, to assess the impact that organizations such as the Bureau of Provincial Information had on immigration. Immigration to western Canada was fueled by a multitude of factors including population pressures in Europe, a growing scarcity of ‘new’ land in the United States, bumper wheat crops, and a buoyant world economy (Bicha 1968; Troper 1972). Artibise (1981) argues, nevertheless, that promotional organizations did influence and reinforce the ptttern of settlement in western

Canada, particularly on the plains where physical geography played a less significant role in the location of settlements. By 1914 dozens of promotional organizations across western Canada competed for immigrants and investment with the more organized and aggressive coming out on top.8 The Canadian Pacific Railway and the Dominion

Government were also active in the field of immigration at this time.9 The former was also the largest promoter of tourism in western Canada. The CPR saw tourism as a way to ‘capitalize’ on western scenery and issued its first tourist publication, in which the general manager of the CPR, W.C. Van Home, took a personal interest, shortly after the transcontinental line was completed.’° Although only a small part of the company’s overall operations, traffic generated by the CPR and by steamship companies on the coast resulted in the establishment of municipal bureaus in Victoria, Vancouver, New

Westminster, and the Kootenays after the turn-of-the-century.” Of these, the Victoria

Tourist Association was arguably the most successful. Brochures prepared by the Association were cited as some of the best examples of promotional literature issued in

North America by The Publisher and Advertiser, an American advertising trade journal.

The Bureau of Provincial Information wasted little time launching an advertising campaign. Between 1902 and 1906, twenty-three bulletins were published. Four more were added over the next six years. These bulletins, which ranged in size from 8 to 176 pages, formed the backbone of the Bureau’s advertising efforts and were periodically 206 updated and reprinted until 1919 when they were superseded by a new series. Bulletins covered a variety of topics. Several of the smaller ones were transcripts of lectures that had been presented by the Agent General to prospective immigrants in England. Others reviewed the status of provincial industries, taxation laws, sport fishing and hunting, while the most substantial were yearbooks and regional summaries. By 1910, the

Bureau was responding to 50,000 requests for information and publishing on the order of one-half million pieces of literature annually. Activity peaked shortly thereafter, and declined with the onset of the First World War (Table 5.2).

The idea for the bulletin series, and the rapidity with which it was instituted, can be credited to R.E. Gosnell, the first head of the Bureau of Provincial Information.

Originally from Ontario, Gosnell came west to work as a journalist for the Vancouver

News-Advertiser in 1888. After working in several other occupations, he was appointed both legislative librarian and secretary of the Bureau of Statistics by the government of

Theodore Davie, and was instrumental in the establishment of the provincial archives.’2

While employed in this capacity Gosnell privately’3 published a 500 page volume entitled the Year Book ofBritish Columbia and Manual ofProvincial Information that detailed the history, physiography, resources, and industry of the province.’4 When

Gosnell was chosen to head up the Bureau of Provincial Information he used the Year

Book as a model and resource for the bulletin series.15 Parts of the Year Book, in fact, were reprinted as separate bulletins, while the Handbook ofBritish Columbia was essentially an abridged and updated version of Gosnell’s earlier work.16 Although

Gosnell left the Bureau in 1904 to become editor of the Victoria Colonist, his influence through the bulletin series persisted into the 1920s.’7

Although the Bureau’s activity increased substantially from its inception to 1914, its scale of operation was modest in relation to the massive campaigns the Canadian 207 Table 5.2

British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information Expenditures, 1901-1918

Literature Year Expenditures ($)‘ Inquiries Distributed2 Published3 1901 3542 1408 14700 1902 4330 1903 8204 3696 34125 27115 1904 10661 6555 62386 70100 1905 7054 4255 44586 59800 1906 9137 9280 103000 1907 19973 16920 97000 1908 12543 26974 196000 1909 13370 38079 278500 384750 1910 41511 47309 266250 603600 1911 38626 1912 25433 64558 299017 481200 1913 44626 1914 38116 1915 18022 5365 1916 12466 4654 68492 5500 1917 3719 1918 2469

‘B.C., Public Accounts. Note, the government used fiscal years ending June 30 until 1908 after which March 31 was used while sessional reports are usually based on calendar years. I chose to calibrate fiscal years with calendar years by summer months. Thus the fiscal year 1 July 1903 to 30 June 1904 is shown as 1903. Data includes all expenditures listed under Bureaus of Information, Immigration, as well as salaries for the Bureau of Statistics. 1913 does not include a $36,000 expenditure on a fruit exhibit which may be attributable to the Bureau. All figures are current dollars.

2B.C., Sessional Papers, Annual Report ofthe Bureau ofProvincial Information. Includes literature forwarded to England for distribution by the Agent General. Data prior to 1904 includes literature published by other agencies but distributed by the Bureau. —Footnotes continued on next page. 208

3The years 1907 (20,000), 1909 (50,000), 1910 (200,000), and 1912 (200,000) include literature prepared by the Bureau of Infonnation but published in England for distribution by the Agent General. It is not clear whether data for the years 1912 and 1916 represents the number of publications for the fiscal year or from the previous published report. Records for the King’s Printer indicate that the Bureau published a similar volume of material in 1913 as in each of the previous three years. Material sent to the printer declined by half in 1914 and was negligible in 1916. B.C. Sessional Papers, Report ofthe Printing Office. 209

Pacific Railway and the federal government launched to attract settlers to the interior plains.18 The CPR’s European agencies alone, for instance, once distributed over one miffion pieces of literature over a six month period in the early 1880s, while the Canadian government spent more than two million dollars promoting Canada’s agricultural potential to Americans between 1898 and 1908 (Hedges 1939: 95; Bicha 1968: 80).

Both organizations had an extensive network of agents and offices in Europe and North

America, and used a variety of promotional techniques. In addition to pamphlets and advertisements, the CPR and federal government commissioned lectures, solicited testimonials, maintained displays of agricultural produce, art, and photography at fairs and agency offices, distributed books and atlases on Canada to schools and libraries, and employed ‘travellers’ to carry news of the plains’ agricultural potential into the countryside (Hedges 1939). The Bureau of Provincial Information used some of these methods. It distributed a small percentage of its bulletin series to libraries, newspapers, schools,’9 and other associations and agencies active in the promotion of immigration.

More important were agricultural exhibitions (Table 5.3). The Bureau did not, however, advertise extensively in newspapers or magazines nor vigorously experiment with chain letters, patent sheets, and guided editorial tours as larger agencies did (Hedges 1939;

Troper 1972). The Bureau steered a conservative course—its general policy was to distribute literature in response to direct inquiries or, in combination with photographs and lantern slides, to “reputable” persons wishing to present lectures on the province.

The modest scale of the Bureau, as well as its nationalistic preferences, was also manifest in the spatial distribution of its literature. Unlike the CPR and the Dominion

Government, the Bureau of Provincial Information did not launch major campaigns in continental Europe or the United States.2° Its target market was England. Although

English immigrants accounted for only 10 percent of inquiries, the Bureau distributed 210

Table 5.3

British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information Literature Distribution1 1910

Medium Copies

Fruit Exhibitions 67,500 Mailed to Inquirants 55,500 Vienna and Brussels Exhibition 49,000 Agent-General (London) 28,500 In person 20,000 Government Agents 14,500 Vancouver Tourist Association 12,000 Vancouver Island Development League 9,500 Newspapers, Libraries 4,000 Boards of trade 3,750 Railway Companies 2,000 Total 266,250

‘B.C., Sessional Papers, Annual Report of the Bureau ofProvincial Information.. 211 approximately one-third of its literature in England, either in response to direct inquiries or through the office of the Agent General. Most inquiries, in nearly equal proportions, came from Canada and the United States. The emphasis the Bureau placed on England was an extension of the province’s colonial heritage and reflected contemporary concerns over Asian immigration (Roy 1989; Barman 1991). Gosnell was a strong supporter of the British monarchy and believed, like many white British Columbians, that it was essential to increase English immigration if ‘racial superiority’ was to be maintained.2’

The Bureau, however, was not interested in attracting just any class of English immigrant. The Bureau promoted British Columbia as an ideal place for those interested in mixed farming or fruit ranching but discouraged persons without farming experience or lacking a trade (Riis 1973; Harris 1987). Few jobs available for immigrants lacking capital and skills, and the government feared an ‘invasion’ of paupers and gypsies as it perceived the plains had experienced. The province successfully attracted a small number of its preferred immigrants; nevertheless, most inquiries from English settlers concerned employment in fields other than agriculture, while the majority of British

Columbia’s immigrant farmers came from settlements on the Canadian plains or in the American northwest.22

Inactivity and Decline: 1914-1924

In the early 1920s, the Bureau was beset by a dispute between its secretary H.W. Hart and the government over the Bureau’s funding and operation. This dispute came to a head in 1924 when the Bureau was closed in the face of allegations by Hart that the

Liberal government had generally neglected the Bureau’s operation,2 and specifically used its funds and channels to distribute party literature.24 Conservative members of the legislature took up Hart’s charges and demanded an inquiry. A committee was struck 212 and several meetings held; however, the investigation was blocked by cabinet26 and its findings never released.27

Although the investigation died quietly, the inquiry does mark an important transition point for the Bureau. Activity in the Bureau had declined dramatically after

1914. Expenditures were slashed in response first to war, and then to reduced immigration and fiscal restraint. Several government officials, furthermore, voiced dissatisfaction with the Bureau’s promotional efforts and its “dry” bulletin series, and were thus hesitant to increase its budget.28 Although a new series was launched in

1919, only three of nine proposed bulletins were published, one of which was an updated version of the Handbook. In its place, the government wanted literature produced in a more “popular” form.29 Hart opposed these developments, publicly criticizing the government for its “hazy” and deceptive advertising. In an open letter entitled “Advertising Will Pay Only When It Is Truth”, Hart argued that “Distortion, misrepresentation, falsity, carelessness, ignorance, and subjugation of facts to the desire for literary brilliancy are faults, or crimes, of which the real publicist can never be charged”. “Worthwhile publicity”, he continued,

is fact published in plain language; interestingly written so as to stir the imagination and stimulate ambition. Half of the facts is not sufficient. It should be all or none. The disadvantages should be as carefully set forth as the advantages. Difficulties and obstacles should be given their proper place in an exposition of a country’s or community’s merits. For if one seeks to cause another to change his place of residence and incur expense in so doing, it is surely dishonest to withhold pertinent facts in order that the advertiser may benefit fmancially by the other’s ill-advised action.30

Faced with such opposition and such honesty, the government’s decision to close the

Bureau was both a pragmatic way of disposing of Hart and reworking the Bureau.31 A 213 few months later, with the inquiry out of the way, the government announced that the

Bureau of Provincial Infonnation had merged with the Department of Industries, and that its budget had been increased and its mandate broadened. The Bureau now functioned as a “clearing house” for all tourist and immigration publicity issued in British Columbia.32

State Intervention: The Government Travel Bureau

The government’s proposal to turn the Bureau into a regional coordinator and promoter of tourism was not an original idea.33 In fact, such proposals had been put forward as early as 1909 by a group of Vancouver delegates who urged the provincial government that “work in the direction of attracting tourists to British Columbia should be brought within the scope of one of the existing departments of the public service, or of a new and special department to be devoted exclusively to that modem field of activity”. The delegates argued that current promotional efforts were too “local and sporadic”. What was needed was a more comprehensive system of regional promotion that would appeal to more distant and affluent markets. In particular, it was suggested that “An all-

Provincial handbook for tourists ignoring local jealousies and covering the multiplied attractions of the country, with some attempt at more than statistical or catalogue arrangement, should be found in every city of the world to which people of wealth and leisure, commonly resort”. The desire for a handbook that featured more than a

“statistical or catalogue arrangement” was a direct reference to, and rejection of, the

Bureau of Provincial Information’s bulletin series. In contrast to the rhetorical composition of the bulletins, the delegates argued that a tourist handbook “should be written ... with due regard to literary quality, the poetry and legends of the soil and of its original inhabitants, and always with the object kept in view of showing plainly how an extended holiday can be delightfully employed in passing from place to place conveniently and quickly, the visit to British Columbia being mapped out in alternative 214 itineraries to fit the available time of prospective visitors in days, or weeks, or months or even years”.35

In 1915, tourist officials in Victoria and Washington state made a similar appeal for greater regional cooperation. They recognized that the “greater mobility which the automobile promised to the traveller of the future meant, for one thing, a wider distribution of his vacation dollar” (Lines 1972: 46). Trains and boatsspatially confmed tourist traffic to nodes of cities and resorts joined by narrow corridors. This pattern resulted in promotional organizations that had either a site-specific or linear orientation.

The first was characteristic of municipal bureaus such as the Victoria and Vancouver

Tourist Associations, while the latter was typical of transportation companies. The

automobile, in contrast to earlier forms of transportation, encouraged a more regional and less urban pattern of tourist traffic.36 To meet this change, cooperative organizations such as the government funded Pacific Northwest Tourist Association were formed and guides such as The Georgian Circuit—a brochure promoting an automobile tour through

Washington State and British Columbia—issued.37

The calls for regional cooperation and, in particular, a provincial tourist body became more frequent and intense after the first world war. Drawing attention to the large sums spent south of the border, a Victoria alderman called in 1923 for the establishment of a Provincial Tourist Bureau with an annual budget of $500,000.

Although this amount was more than 50 times what theBureau was currently allocated, he pointed out that it was only a small proportion of the estimated $25 million that

foreign tourists annually ‘left in the province.38 The alderman argued, furthermore, that

80 years of advertising timber, fish, and mineral resources had failed to increase the province’s population and industry significantly, and that it was time to follow the example of Los Angeles and capitalize on British Columbia’s scenic and climatic 215

resources (Lines 1972). Many saw the growth of Los Angeles as entirely a product of

tourist advertising. M. Carrigan, director of tourist promotion for the Seattle Chamber of

Commerce, told a Victoria audience that “tourists made the city of Los Angeles because that uninviting and arid stretch of country had nothing else to offer but a climate

possessed of certain healthful and pleasant attributes”.39 The establishment of a well-

endowed provincial tourist bureau was thus considered an essential tool for achieving

growth on the scale southern California had experienced.

Appeals for greater government involvement in tourist promotion were also

common in other provinces and at the national level. One of the strongest advocates was

J.B. Harkin, commissioner of the Dominion Parks Branch. The Parks Branch, along

with the curiously named Natural Resources Intelligence Service (also part of the

Department of the Interior), was an active promoter of tourism in western Canada,

producing not only brochures, films, lectures, lantern slides, and articles but also

commissioning musical scores with names such as the Yoho Waltz, the Jasper Park

March, and the Lac Beauvert Gavotte. Harkin believed that “No matter how many

attractions a country possessed a large tourist traffic will not develop unless some effort

is made to attract it ... [since] tourist travel follow[s] the line of greatest stimulation”.

However, Harkin, who repeatedly drew attention to the economic value of the National

Parks, and to the impact of the automobile in his annual reports, felt that “the best results

can be obtained by the creation of a Federal tourist Bureau working in co-operation with

provincial governments, municipalities, motor associations ... as well as with the

railways and large transportation interests”.40 To back his argument Harkin pointed to

the reportedly phenomenal returns national and regional initiatives in the United States

and Europe had brought. Another organization that actively campaigned for greater

governmental involvement was the Canadian Association of Tourist and Publicity 216

Bureaus. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, this organization repeatedly encouraged the federal government to play a greater role in advertising and regulating the tourist industry.

Calls for a federal tourist bureau, spurred on by the repeal of prohibition and a deflating dollar in the United States, resulted in a senate inquiry into the desirability and role of a federal tourist organization in l934.’ Presenters to the inquiry fell into one of two camps. On the one side, spokepersons for the large transportation companies opposed greater government involvement in tourist promotion. J.M. Gibbon, the CPR’s

General Publicity Agent and employee since 1907, argued that,

While a general campaign for Canada as a tourist country ... would, no doubt, create a sympathetic interest among possible tourists, our practical experience is that the average tourist has a definite objective governed by his purse, his tastes and the accommodation offered at the objective in question, and inquiries by mail have to be followed up by personal solicitation of our own passenger or hotel representatives on the spot.

Given this evaluation, Gibbon suggested that the only value of a government travel bureau would be as a central clearing house for tourist inquiries. However, since this role was already performed by the Canadian Association of Tourist and Publicity

Bureaus, Gibbon concluded that a new federal agency was unwarranted”2 Gibbon’s view was supported by representatives of the Eastern Steamship Company (New York) and the Canadian National Railway who pointed out that a government travel bureau would primarily benefit businesses catering to short-haul automobile tourism. This reasoning was perfectly logical. Major transportation companies had their own well funded promotional agencies while the automobile sector, composed of small and widely scattered enterprises, could scarcely afford to engage in major advertising campaigns.

The reasoning is more poignant in context. The economic depression of the early 1930s 217 had hurt major transportation companies and hotels to a much greater degree than automobile oriented businesses.43 In response, railways and hotels had tried to hinder the development of their competition by, among other strategies, calling for, and receiving in several provinces (and states), legislation that regulated roadside accommodation (Hayner 1934; Borsenik 1966; Belasco 1979; JaIcle 1985; Nelson 1990).

Major transportation companies thus regarded the formation of a government tourist bureau as a further blow to their industry.

On the other side, those in favour of a government travel bureau included representatives of municipal bureaus, provincial tourist associations, federal Departments

(Parks, Immigration, Trade and Commerce), academics, and Members of Parliament.

Generally these spokepersons felt the more advertising the better. But like representatives of the major transportation companies, they drew attention to the impact of the automobile on tourist traffic in Canada. In particular, presenters emphasized the growing importance of intra-provincial tourism. An employee of the National Parks

Branch reasoned that while a tourist in the past,

as a rule selected some resort where he sojourned during his holidays, arriving

there by train or steamer without a break in journey ... the [current] growth of the recreational spirit seeking an outlet in touring and with the extensive use made of the automobile, the tourist may pass through several provinces and the matter of

inducing him ... becomes not merely a provincial but an interprovincial concern.’

Others noted that the spatial mobility of the automobile meant that the region, rather than specific sites, had become the appropriate scale for promotion. Several pointed out that the literature of the railway companies focussed exclusively on their ‘own’ attractions and facilities, while the uncoordinated efforts of various municipal bureaus led to needless duplication and unnecessary competition. Cooperation was considered 218 essential, and federal and provincial governments, it was felt, were the only organizations large enough to bring it about.

The arguments of those in favour of greater coordination ultimately proved stronger than the protectionist stance of the transportation companies. Shortly after the hearings the senate committee recommended the establishment of the Canadian Travel

Bureau and within the year it was in operation.45 Ironically the Bureau was originally placed within the Department of Railways and Canals, and later the Department of

Transport. Several provinces also formed or re-organized bureaus at this time, and by

1941 government tourist bureaus were found in every province. In British Columbia, a

Bureau of Industrial and Tourist Development was formed in 1937 as part of the new

Department of Trade and Industry. A year later tourist promotion was made the priority and the agency renamed the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau.

The reorganization of the Bureau of Provincial Infonuation in the mid 1920s increased promotional activity. Expenditures jumped from less than $10,000 in 1923 to. more than $50,000 by 1930 although there was considerable variation on a year to year basis (Table 5.4). A sizable proportion of this increase was spent on a series of booklets. In the style of literature issued by the CPR, these booklets were well crafted, in-house publications, many featuring original drawings and paintings and an abundance of text. They were also similar to the CPR’s literature in their linear, route-oriented presentation of the province’s tourist landscapes. The booklets, however, were directed at motoring tourists and as such reflected contemporary interpretations of the province’s evolving tourist audience. With the formation of the British Columbia Government

Travel Bureau expenditures increased further and topped more than $100,000 by 1940.

This amount was still small compared to the estimated $1 million per annum the CPR and

CNR spent, but it was more than any province save Quebec.47 The Government Travel ______

219

Table 5.4 British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information Expenditures, 1919-1946

Year Expenditures ($)1 Year Expenditures ($) 1919 8929 1933 15858 1920 11495 1934 12907 1921 13871 1935 32254 1922 7616 1936 61140 1923 8914 1937 68359 1924 22960 1938 87054 1925 14591 1939 133346 1926 15327 1940 131775 1927 24204 1941 127467 1928 70558 1942 54703 1929 49114 1943 42690 1930 62701 1944 46129 1931 31785 1946 110978

1932 18135

1B.C., Public Accounts. All figures are current dollars. Data for 1928 to 1931 includes moneys spent by the Department of Industries on General Publicity. Data for 1927 indicates that the Bureau of Provincial Information spent approximately five times on publicity as the Department of Industhes did. 220

Bureau also chose a more modern approach to tourist promotion. It hired an advertising agency and used newspapers, magazines, billboards, photographs, radio, and movies to a greater extent’ The Bureau also cooperated extensively with other regional and industry organizations. The magnitude of this cooperation is clearly evident in the distribution channels used by the Bureau. Table 5.5 shows that the Bureau distributed almost half of its literature through other tourist agencies.

Several general reasons have been put forward in the social science literature to explain the development of the advertising industry in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. One of the most common, and agreed upon, is that advertising arose in response to the increasing scale of mass production (Ewen 1976; Fox and Lears 1983;

Pope 1983; Schudson 1984; Leiss, Kline, and Jhally 1986; Wicke 1988). This interpretation is based on the observation that, prior to the industrial revolution, the scale of production was primarily limited by technology. However, as machines replaced human labour, and as the means of production (human and inanimate) were made more efficient, production increased dramatically. In fact, it is argued that the amount produced actually began to exceed demand. This situation was a reversal of the pre industrial scenario. Now it was consumption, not technology, that inhibited industry.

Ewen argues that “The mechanism of mass production could not function unless markets became dynamic, growing horizontally (nationally), vertically (social classes) and ideologically” (1976: 24-25). Advertising arose as one attempt to solve this ‘problem’

(Schudson 1984).9 Advertising was used to ‘get the word out’ on a product and, according to some interpretations, to create an “ethic of consumption” in which people came to view the ownership of commodities as one of the principal objectives in life and specifically as a means of establishing social identity (Fox and Lears 1983; Leiss 1986).

Over time, as this ethic became entrenched in a rapidly expanding mass society, and as 221

Table 5.5

Source of Tourist Inquiries And Literature Distributed 1939-1941’

Source 1939 1940 1941

Direct Replies 15223 16641 16408 “Ask Mr. Foster” Service 5003 5096 5155 Canadian Travel Bureau 6939 74115 6797 Evergreen Playground Assoc. 1430 1577 1339 Wash. St. Progress Comm. 1746 72 Pacific Northwest Tour. Assoc. 846 1349 Game Commission 1056 1931 2039 Victoria and Island Publicity Bureau 1866 1157

Total 29650 34527 32895

Total Literature Distributed 253942 702810 624971

‘B.C., Session Papers, Department of Trade and Industry, Report ofthe British Columbia Government Travel Bureau. 222

the most efficient producers of national brands came to dominate the market, advertising

interests consolidated into larger and larger agencies (Leiss 1986; Wicke 1988). The

advertising industry is now among the most concentrated. Leiss (1986: 131) reports

that “30 of the world’s top 37 agencies have offices [in New York Cityl ... within a•

territorial enclave one square mile in size”.

This interpretation of the genesis of mass advertising and mass markets provides

a very general sense of why and how the federal and provincial governments came to rank among the largest tourist advertisers in Canada and the United States. However, in itself, this interpretation is insufficient since it is insensitive to the character of the tourist

industry. The state, or any advertising agency or organization, did not become involved

in the promotion of tourism because there was an excess production of resorts. From an industry standpoint, the growth of mass tourism in the nineteenth and first half of the

twentieth centuries primarily reflects improvements in transportation. In other words, it was changes in the distribution rather than production system that was critical to the industry. And it is changes in the distribution system, and particular in its spatial

dimensions, that was responsible, I believe, for the gradual emergence of the state as one

of the primary presenters of mass tourist landscapes.

The Magnitude of Victorian and early Mass Tourism

This section briefly reviews the state of tourism prior to mid-century. The discussion is necessarily broad. Unlike immigration, agriculture, or ‘traditional resource’ industries,

there is not a large, accurate, and readily available body of historical government

statistics on tourism. The only statistics kept prior to the turn-of-the-century concern the

number of overseas tourists entering Canada annually. Records of the much larger flow

of American tourists date only to 1926, while reliable estimates of domestic tourist traffic 223

only became available after l945.° Data from transportation companies is similarly

thin. The Canadian Pacific Railway, for instance, did not classify passenger traffic

according to trip purpose, making it extremely difficult to distinguish trends in tourism.51 However, despite the relative absence of these obvious sources, it is possible to sketch the broad contours of early tourism in the west, and Canada generally, through

departmental reports, newspapers, and tourist bureau records, and from this data to draw some conclusions about the growth, size, and composition of British Columbia’s tourist audience.

1900-1914

Undoubtedly, the number of tourists visiting British Columbia increased after the completion of the CPR in 1885. However, the increase appears to have been quite small at first. According to records kept by the Department of Interior, a federal agency responsible for the management of Canada’s National Parks, among other things, the number of guests annually staying at hotels in Banif did not exceed 5000 until after 1900

(Table 5.6).52 It was not until after the turn-of-the-century that tourist numbers began to increase substantially, peaking around 1914. This pattern is substantiated by estimates of foreign tourist expenditures by Viner (1975) (shown in column 1 of Table 5.7) and

Hartland (1960) (Table Unfortunately, it is not possible to tell what proportion of these expenditures were made by touirsts in British Columbia. Data on the number of tourists entering ports in the province are available but do not include counts of American tourists (Table 5.9). This missed traffic could be substantial, and its inclusion in future studies of early tourism in British Columbia is essential. Informally reported counts of ferry traffic indicated in 1908 that over 97,000 of the 104,000 foreign arrivals at the port of Victoria came from Seattle.M 224

Table 5.6

Origins of Hotel Registrants in Banff 1890-1925’

United Year Canada United States Kingdom2 Other Total

1890 2237 1425 548 133 4343 1895 3119 1198 340 267 4924 1900 2786 1320 286 241 4633 1905 12554 4076 577 331 17538 1908 22016 13512 2726 583 38837 1912 37709 22527 1995 1401 63632 1914 11281 10781 829 725 23616 1916 19976 21083 454 1737 43250 1920 18546 28542 1066 2228 50382 1925 16424 35624 NA 3889 55937

‘Canada, Sessional Papers, Department of the Interior, Annual Report of the Dominion Parks Branch, 1891-1926. Year end June 30 to 1906, afterward March 31; data reported for the fiscal year that includes July and August.

2United Kingdom includes tourists from England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. 225 Table 5.7

Canada’s Foreign Tourist Revenue ($ millions, except where indicated)

Original Revised Cost of Living Adjusted Year Estimates1 Estimates2 (1949=100) Estimates4

1900 7 34.5 20 1901 8 1902 11 1903 11 1904 13 1905 13 38.7 34 1906 17 1907 17 1908 19 1909 20 1910 25 25 45.1 54 1911 26 26 45.9 57 1912 29 29 48.7 59 1913 30 30 49.5 60

1914 35 34 49.8 68 1915 37 36 50.7 71 1916 46 43 54.9 79 1917 55 51 65.0 78 1918 67 61 73.5 83 1919 76 68 80.8 84

1920 84 73 93.6 78 1921 86 73 82.4 89 1922 92 76 75.4 101 1923 131 103 75.6 136 1924 173 129 74.3 174 1925 193 138 75.0 184 1926 201 152 75.8 201 ______

226

Table 5.7 (continued)

Original Revised Cost of Living Adjusted Year Estimates Estimates (1949=100) Estimates 1927 238 163 74.5 219 1928 275 177 74.8 237 1929 309 198 75.7 262 1930 279 180 75.2 239 1931 251 153 67.8 226 1932 212 114 61.6 185 1933 117 89 58.7 152 1934 146 106 59.5 178 1935 215 117 59.9 195 1936 251 142 61.1 232 1937 291 166 63.0 263 1938 282 149 63.7 234 1939 275 149 63.2 236 1940 104 65.7 158 1941 111 69.6 159 1942 81 72.9 111

‘Data 1900 to 1913 frornViner(1975); 1914 to 1919, Knox (1939); 1920 to 1939, Dominion Bureau of Statistics.

21910 to 1925 based on Table 5.12. The years 1926 to 1942 are based on the Dominion Bureau of Statistics’ revised estimates.

1900 to 1912 from Series 1128 to 131, “Price index of a family budget”, Leacy, F. (1983), Historical Statistics of Canada, Statistics Canada; 1913 to 1942, Series 3147- 152, “Consumer Price Index” from the same source.

4Column 2 divided by column 3. 227

Table 5.8

Canada’s Foreign Tourist Revenue 1869 to 19551

1869-73 1895-99 1909-13 1946-50 1951-55

Revenue per 0.71 1.10 3.62 16.96 20.07 capita ($) Tourist revenu 2.6 3.3 5.7 6.7 5.2 as a % of total foreign revenu

1Based on HarUand (1960: 720). Total credits include physical commodities and intangible payments such as personal remittances and immigrants capital. 228

Table 5.9

Tourists Entering British Columbia Through Ocean Ports1

Destination Year Canada Enroute Total

1904 1316 37 1353 1905 1378 870 2248 1906 769 973 1742 1907 2886 1344 4230 1908 2270 1852 4122 1909 2827 1042 3869 1910 3262 1565 4827 1911 3828 903 4731 1912 3671 184 3855 1913 3985 113 4098 1914 2610 49 2659 1915 2070 52 2122

‘Canada, Sessional Papers, Department of the Interior, Report on Immigration. 1904 to 1906 year end June 30, afterward March 31; data reported for fiscal year that includes July and August. 229

The rapid increase in tourism after 1900 accords with trends observed in other countries (Simon 1960). However, the relative magnitude of short-haul traffic from

Washington state is surprising given the conventional interpretation that western tourism was dominated by upper class Europeans and residents of eastern North America.55

Support for this observation is found, nevertheless, in the records compiled by the

Department of the Interior. Table 5.6 indicates that Canadians comprised the majority of visitors in Banff (and that a majority of these were from western Canada), while tourists from the United Kingdom commonly represented less than ten percent of hotel registrants throughout the pre-war period.56 This composition is further substantiated by listings of tourists in the societal columns of local newspapers. It was not uncommon in the first decades of the twentieth century for newspapers to report the names and residences of visitors recently registered at local hotels. A sample taken from Victoria papers between 1908 and 1914 found that over two-thirds of hotel registrants were from

British Columbia or neighbouring provinces and states.57 From a different perspective, records kept by the provincial game warden were hardly indicative of a major foreign tourist influx. As seen in Table 5.10, the number of big game licences annually issued to foreigners never surpassed one hundred prior to 1919. Considered in light of the orientation of tourism advertising at this time, this data implies that promotional organizations either misread the market or, more likely, that their perception of the upper class English man as the ideal tourist was so strong that it overrode the reality of the province’s tourist market. 230

Table 5.10

British Columbia Fish and Game Licences Issued to Foreigners’

Year Big Game Fish

1906 69 1907 86 1908 77 1909 53 80 1910 70 113 1911 66 120 1912 45 153 1913 54 146 1914 30 120 1915 44 149 1916 51 117 1917 31 134 1918 51 85 1919 161 130

‘B.C., Sessional Papers, Annual Report of the Game Commission. 231

1914-1940

Although curtailed by the first world war, tourist traffic did not experience a post-war decline. In fact, foreign tourist traffic in Canada increased even faster than between 1900 and 1914. The magnitude of this increase is evident in data published by the Dominion

Bureau of Statistics (DBS), which combined with estimates by Viner (1975) and Knox

(1939), provide a continuous record of foreign tourism in Canada since 1900. These data are shown in Table 5.7. Column 1 shows the initial estimates, while Column 2 shows the DBS’s revised figures for the years 1926 onward. The DBS revised its earlier estimates when comprehensive surveys done in the early 1940s indicated that they had previously over-estimated personal expenditures for tourists entering Canada by automobile. I have extrapolated these revisions back to 1910, taking into consideration the magnitude of the DBS’s revisions, and adjusting for the percentage change in passenger vehicle registrations in the United States. I have discounted the revised estimates in column 4 against the cost of living index (column 3) in order to account for the effects of inflation and deflation. The final estimates indicate that foreign tourist expenditures increased 212 percent between 1919 and 1929 when traffic peaked.

Foreign tourist traffic declined in the 1930s, yet tourism remained one of Canada’s most important ‘exports’ (Table 5.11). By the late 1930s tourist traffic had returned to pre depression levels before declining with the start of the second world war. Most of the increase in foreign tourist traffic between 1919 and 1929 can be attributed to the growth of automobile tourism, particularly after 1925 (Jable 5. 12). By 1929 American tourists entering Canada by automobile contributed an estimated two and a half times the revenue of American tourists traveling by rail and steamer (Ogilvie 1933). The situation appears to have been similar for interprovincial traffic, although detailed statistics are only available for the province of Quebec. Quebec officials estimated that motorists (not 232

Table 5.11

Canada Selected Exports’ ($ millions)

Wood Aluminum Passenger Year Tourism Wheat Fish Pulp Bars Automobiles

1900 7 12 11 2 -

1905 13 12 11 3 1 - 1910 25 53 16 5 1 1 1915 36 74 20 9 2 3 1920 73 185 43 41 6 13 1925 138 252 34 42 5 22 1930 180 216 37 45 14 23 1935 117 132 23 26 8 15 1939 149 109 29 31 26 14

‘Data for tourism based on column 2 of Table 3. Other data based on annual reports by Canada’s Department of Trade. 233 Table 5.12

Foreign Travel Expenditures in Canada by Source and Mode of Travel 1900-1942’ ($ miffions)

Enter From United States Ocean Rail! Other Auto2 Auto % of U.S. Grand Year Ports3 Steamer4 Gr. Tot. Total Total

1900 2 5 5 7 1901 3 5 5 8 1902 4 7 7 11 1903 3 8 8 11 1904 3 10 10 13 1905 3 10 10 13 1906 4 13 13 17 1907 4 12 12 16 1908 4 15 15 19 1909 5 15 15 20 1910 7 ----18 0.1 0 18 25 1911 9 ----17 0.2 1 17 26 1912 9 ----20 0.3 1 20 29 1913 10 ----20 0.4 1 20 30 1914 16 ----17 0.7 2 34 34 1915 12 ----23 1 3 36 36 1916 8 ----33 2 4 43 43 1917 8 ----40 3 6 51 51 1918 12 ----45 4 7 61 61 1919 15 ----47 6 9 68 68 1920 17 ----48 8 11 73 73 1921 10 ----53 9 13 73 73 1922 9 ----56 12 15 76 76 1923 10 ----73 20 20. 103 103 1924 9 ----89 31 24 129 129 1925 5 ----94 39 29 138 138 1926 12 78 21 41 27 140 152 234 Table 5.12 (continued)

Enter From United States Ocean RaW Other Auto Auto % of U.S. Grand Year Ports Steamer Gr. Tot. Total Total

1927 15 72 22 54 33 148 163 1928 14 69 23 71 40 163 177 1929 14 74 23 87 44 184 198 1930 13 58 23 86 48 167 180 1931 12 38 21 82 54 141 153 1932 11 26 18 59 52 103 114 1933 8 23 17 41 46 81 89 1934 10 27 23 46 43 96 106 1935 10 33 23 51 44 107 117 1936 13 40 23 66 46 129 142 1937 17 45 26 78 47 149 166 1938 15 41 25 68 46 134 149 1939 12 42 24 71 48 137 149 1940 6 33 16 49 47 98 104 1941 4 35 18 54 49 107 111 1942 2 36 17 26 32 79 81

1 Data in all columns for 1926 to 1942 based on the Dominion Bureau of Statisitics’ revised estimates of tourist expenditures.

2Data 1910 to 1926 are estimates based percentage change in passenger automobile registrations in the United States. Based on data in Series Q 148-162 in the The Statistical History of the United States compiled by the Bureau of the Census of the United States; original estimates of expenditures per “tourist automobile” by the Dominion Bureau of Statistics between 1926 and 1934, and gross estimates of tourist expenditures by the Bureau for the period 1920 to 1925. Figures prior to 1910 are insignificant.

1900 to 1913 based on Viner (1975); 1914 to 1925 based on Viner’s estimates of expenditures and on annual reports of the Federal Department of Immigration. —Footnotes continued on next page. 235

4Data for 1900 to 1913 based on Viner (1975); 1914 to 1925 is the Grand Total less the value of automobile tourist expenditures and that of tourists entering Canada through ocean ports (using Viner’s and the Bureau of Statistics’ expenditure estimates).

5lmmigration data for 1917 shows 78,728 steerage passengers entering Canada. This figure is approximately 7 times the totals for the preceding and following years and is in all likelyhood related to the travel of armed forces personnel (males accounted for 97% of the 1917 total). In place of this figure I have used the average of 1916 and 1918 to estimate the expenditures of tourists entering through ocean ports. 236

including short stay visitors from Ontario) accounted for 75 percent of Canadian tourist traffic in the early 1930s, and that the number of tourist cars entering the province had increased from 1500 in 1915 to 650,000 in 1933.

British Columbia appears to have experienced a similarly rapid growth of tourist

expenditures at this time. Estimates published in local newspapers suggest that tourism

had become one of the province’s largest industries as early as 1923. In that year

tourism reportedly generated $24 million in British Columbia.6° Subsequent estimates

placed tourism’s contribution to the provincial economy at $33 million in 1926, $72

million in 1929, $32 million in 1936, and $30 million in 1939.61 These estimates must

be interpreted cautiously since they are based on a minimum of data and do not include

domestic tourism.62 They provide, nonetheless, a sense of the relative size, growth, and

optimism about the industry.. One Premier of British Columbia, J.D. McLean, predicted

that the tourist industry would surpass in “wealth of production all other fields of output”

while many in the early 1930s saw tourism as the key industry for stimulating economic development.63

The origins of tourists visiting British Columbia during this period appear to have varied across the province. Counts made at ferry tenninals and municipal auto camps in

Victoria found five American automobiles for every one Canadian.M In Vancouver the

mix was more even while Canadians outnumbered Americans four to one amongst

automobilists entering Kootenay and Yoho National Parks.65 These regional differences reflect the relative proximity of southwestern British Columbia to major cities and highways in the American northwest, and conversely the limited extent of highways in

British Columbia’s interior. In the 1930s, and especially after the repeal of prohibition in

the United States, the market became more local, and by the late 1930s British

Columbia’s mass tourist market had become well established. Estimates compiled by the 237

British Columbia Government Travel Bureau using DBS data revealed that 90 percent of Americans entering the province on 60-day (tourist) automobile permits came from the three Pacific states, with Washington state accounting for almost seventy percent alone.

Amongst Canadian travellers (not including British Columbians), over eighty percent of visitors were from Alberta.66

It is difficult to calculate accurately how the composition of the tourist market in the 1920s and 1930s differed from earlier ones given the quality of the data. What is certain, however, is that the recognition of local markets increased. In a submission to the Senate inquiry of 1934, Morgan Eastman, a former director of the Greater Vancouver

Publicity Bureau, argued that a new orientation to promotion was required since the patrons of large transportation companies were no longer representative of the market as a whole.

To the transportation companies must go the chief credit for the growth of

Canada’s tourist business ... The transportation companies are limited in their appeal, however, because of necessity, their advertising must be pointed at the prospective tourist who is interested in resorts and the ‘long haul’ thereto. This class of tourist is restricted in numbers, and Canada has yet to make a direct appeal sufficiently comprehensive in size and plan to get its message of invitation to seventy-five percent of potential tourists who cannot or do not want to go by train or boat to the more exclusive resorts, but whose tourist dollar has just as many cents as his brother’s, and who, perhaps actually spends it more freely.67

Several presenters at the inquiry suggested that tourist advertising should concentrate on

U.S. markets within five hundred miles of the Canadian border. Promoters were both well aware that tourist traffic was inversely correlated with distance, and that the northern states contained most of the country’s population and wealth.68 The Bureau focussed its advertising on the three Pacific states (Table 5.13). The Bureau did not, however, direct much attention to Canadian markets despite the acknowledged importance of 238 interprovincial tourism.69 Like other provinces, British Columbia saw tourism primarily as an export industry, a perspective which was itself a product of a staples mentality that many believe characterized Canada’s economy.

The social orientation of promotional literature also changed at this time.

Whereas early tourist promotions had keyed on the upper class European as the ideal visitor, presentations in the 1930s began to focus on the North American middle class.

In part, this shift was a response to changes in the motivations and style of travel that followed in the wake of World War One. As several studies have reported, tourists rejected European standards and aesthetics at this time in favour of the ‘primitive and the local’. A growing interest in wilderness, the early history of North American settlement, and camping were expressions of this change (Belasco 1979; Jakle 1985; Nelson 1985;

McKay 1988). The change also reflects the democratization of travel. As Eastman’s submission indicates, promoters were well aware that the automobile had made tourism less socially exclusive—less a vehicle for ‘conspicuous consumption’.

In pursuing this market, tourist bureaus were confronted by a very similar rhetorical problem to the one posed by their own identity as an author of tourist landscapes. In contrast to the audience for Victorian presentations of landscapes, the middle class market was poorly defined, not just because it was new, but because it was so large.7° Departmental and statistical reports make few references to its demographic or motivational qualities. Essentially the audience was unknown, making it extremely difficult to present the landscape with precision or confidence. Presentations of mass 239

Table 5.13

Origins of American Tourists and the Distribution of British Columbia’s GTB’s Print Advertising 19381

Tourist entering B.C. GTB’s on 60-day Advertising Region Automobile Permits Distribution (%) (%)

Pacific States 87.76 59.25 Mountain 4.80 9.23 West Central 3.43 7.08 EastCentral 1.95 6.76 NorthAtlantic 1.20 12.60 SouthAtlantic 0.62 2.14 Other US Territories 0.24 2.03

Canada 0.91

‘B.C., Sessional Papers, Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau, 1939. 240 tourist landscapes are exchanges between an anonymous author and an equally anonymous audience.

The Promotion of Mass Tourism

In the early 1980s, Tourism Canada (1985: 60) described the state’s participation in the tourism industry as “pervasive”. The federal agency suggested, in fact, that “it is difficult to think of any broad sector of the Canadian economy that is as massively influenced by government—federal, provincial, territorial, or local—as is tourism”, Not only do governments own and manage much of the country’s physical and cultural attractions, they are directly or indirectly involved in marketing, regulating, inspecting, analyzing, and financing the tourist industry, as well as taxing, controlling (visas), transporting, and accommodating tourists. This level of participation represents a significant change from the situation in the 1920s and 1930s. The objective of the following section is first to describe broadly the growth of state participation in the tourist industry between the 1940s and 1970. The following section traces the evolution of its contemporary role in the 1980s and 1990s. These periods represent respectively the height of mass tourism, and the emergence of postmodern tourism in British Columbia.

Mass Tourism and the Growth of State Participation

After its formation in the late 1930s, the Government Travel Bureau progressed through a period of relative institutional and fiscal stability. From 1937 to 1958, the Bureau remained within the Department of Trade and Industry. Expenditures increased but only slightly when measured in constant dollars (Tables 5.14 and 5.15). It was also, however, a period of change in the relationship between the provincial government and the tourist industry. The govermuent became much more involved, not only in tOurist Table 5.14 Expenditures by State Tourist Bureaus in 1Canada Constant Dollars (thousands) 1949=100

1941 1946 1951 1956 1961 1966 1971 1976 1981 1986 Canada 675 53 1096 1235 2076 4401 6466 8291 7724 6531 BC 189 93 148 218 305 634 1960 2725 2661 1921 Alberta 54 44 62 102 128 219 390 1055 1481 2758 Sask 10 13 28 57 90 149 203 1123 666 386 Manitoba 19 47 175 142 270 290 571 696 761 1085 Ontario 102 99 540 756 1457 4265 7865 3096 5155 6426 Quebec 343 84 997 1110 1153 982 8206 4909 6346 8231 NB 127 114 125 293 543 474 507 2200 2377 2486 NS 120 203 267 360 537 653 881 2002 3201 2526 PEI 37 25 28 60 87 264 651 611 567 630 NFLD N/A N/A 25 75 151 379 531 570 1170 1195

Total 1676 776 3492 4408 6796 12709 28231 27278 32110 34174

1Data for this Table and Tables 5.15, 5.17 and 5.18 are from the Public Accounts of the respective provincial and federal V governments. These tables should be interpreted cautiously sincebureaucratic organization can significantly influence expenditures. Tourist bureaus that functioned independently probably had higher expenditures than those situated within larger departments. Tourist expenditures can also fluctuate widely from year to year. As such, readers should focus on the broad trends rather than absolute changes over a five year period.

t%)

185

244

344

651

242

328

957

1986

1840

1965

5374

6464

18593

183

180

628

538

217

1981

1407 1096

1082

1139

4064

5979

16514

312

302

677

571

224

211 649

1976

1090

2382

2093

6124

14634

Bureaus

116

136

379

304 213

961 760

426

1971

1508

1114

6169

12086

Tourist

85

58

134

122

589

350

575

781

236

430

1966

1792

5152

State

(thousands)

5.15

by

62

55

74

Canada 1

105

349

586

281

582

205

230

1961

3875

1346

1949=100

Dollars

Table

in

36

38

32

39

Constant

144

103

159

628

356 208

846

Expenditures

1956

2588

19

17

17

67

92

94

41

154

563

238

918

1951

2219

Promotional

0

17

12 13

61

93

69

54

29 44

392

N/A

1946

source.

3

25

77. 78

37 73

146 198

638

for

N/A

N/A

N/A

1941

5.14

NS

BC

NB

PEI

Sask

Table

Total

NFLD

Alberta

Quebec

Ontario

Canada

Manitoba

1 See 243 promotion but also in the regulation and coordination of the industry. In the 1940s and

1950s, for instance, the Government Travel Bureau took several steps to improve roadside tourist accommodation in the province. Auto courts, motels, and campgrounds were the backbone of the automobile-centred tourism that quickly came to dominate

North America’s tourist industry after 1945. Surveys indicated that the province’s roadside accommodation was both in short supply and in poor shape in the early 1940s.

Anticipating a surge in post-war travel the government drafted legislation concerning the construction, upkeep, and inspection of accommodation.71 This legislation, amended several times, is still in place. The Bureau also encouraged and helped the accommodation sector to form an association, and created a Provincial Tourist Council, a non-executive body of industry representatives and civil servants whose mandate was to study and make recommendations about the promotion and development of tourism in

British Columbia. In addition to these measures, the Bureau also published newsletters that provided hints on motel construction and resort promotion, opened tourist information centres near border crossings, actively participated in national conferences on tourism, and undertook further industry and market surveys. The general goal of these activities, aside from increasing tourist revenues, was to improve the quality of tourist attractions and infrastructure by standardizing the industry as far as possible. For instance, the Bureau appears to have based its policies on practices and legislation previously adopted in California. Several passages in British Columbia’s Acts cOncering tourism follow the California Statutes word for word. This legal plagiarism was likely not accidental. The Bureau was well aware of the importance of the California market,

and thus the value of adopting their norms (Nelson 1990).

Much of the credit for the development of the Bureau during this period goes to

Edwin W. Rowebottom. Rowebottom, a native British Columbian born in Lac La 244

Hache but raised in Victoria, was appointed Deputy Minister of Industries in 1934 while the portfolio was still within the Provincial Treasury. In 1937 he was named to the same post when the Department of Trade and Industry was established. He remained in this job until his retirement in 1954.72 Rowebottom, who had worked in the printing industry before joining the civil service, took a special interest in the Travel Bureau. He sat on the Provincial Tourist Council, and was president for the Canadian Association of

Tourist and Publicity Bureaus for several years. Rowebottom argued repeatedly of the need to plan ahead. He was particularly sensitive to increasing competition, and felt that the industry in British Columbia must not only upgrade its physical infrastructure (roads, campgrounds, accommodation, convention facilities, attractions), but also modernize its promotional activities. At national meetings Rowebottom repeatedly spoke about the

Bureau’s latest marketing initiatives, and of the need to experiment with new techniques.

Rowebottom appears to have been instrumental in establishing greater ties with the advertising industry and in the use of film. Like his predecessor, R. E. Gosnell,

Rowebottom’s initiatives would influence the actions of the Bureau well after his tenure.

In 1958 the Government Travel Bureau was placed within the Department of

Recreation and Conservation where it remained until 1968 when a separate Department of Travel Industry was formed. The latter development recognized the increasing importance of tourism to the provincial economy. Tourist revenues had actually increased quite slowly during the 1950s, rising approximately ten percent in constant dollars between 1951 and .196 1 (Table 5.16). Over the next decade, however, tourist revenues more than tripled, reaching an estimated half biffion dollars in 197

Expenditures also rose rapidly, although. the figures for the years from 1971 on are inflated by the additional administrative costs of operating the Bureau as an independent department (Table 5.14). Promotion expenditures also increased substantially (Table 245

Table 5.16

Estimates of British Columbia’s Tourist Revenues1 Constant dollars (1949=1.00)

Expenditures Expenditures by US tourists by all tourists Increase Year ($ miffions) (%) 1941 18 1946 45 144 1951 35 -22 1956 39 12 1961 41 89 6 1966 81 186 109 1971 278 49 1976 3932 41 1981 489 24 1986 616 26 1991 808 31

‘Data for 1941 from B.C., Department of Finance, A Review ofResources, Production and Government Finances; all other years from, B.C., Department of Trade and Industry, British Columbia Facts and Statistics.

2The method of estimating domestic tourism changed between 1971 and 1976. The change increased estimates. Consequently, the increase between 1971 and 1976 is larger than the actual increase. 246

5.15). In 1961 the Bureau spent almost $300,000 on promotion (advertising, printing, and publicity). Ten years later the total was close to $2 million, a 384 percent increase measured in constant dollars.

State tourist expenditures in British Columbia peaked in the mid 1970s. Since then expenditures have fluctuated considerably, but the general trend over the next decade was downward. Expenditures in 1986, the year of Expo, were actually below those of 1971 (when measured in constant dollars). Promotional expenditures also moved lower. The decline may reflect several factors including slower growth in provincial tourist revenues (Table 5.16), fiscal restraint, and the transfer of some responsibilities to other government agencies and regional tourist associations. The

Ministry of Tourism also contracts out much of its research and planning activities at present. This practice may have not only reduced costs, but also altered the flavour of the state’s participation in the tourist industry. In the past, the state primarily adopted a top-down perspective, imposing sweeping legislation and marketing plans it thought were necessary for improving the small, and highly fragmented tourist industry of the

1940s through 1960s. The government’s legislation for regulating tourist accommodation is a good example. The government persisted with this legislation in the

1950s and 1960s despite the fact that it was frequently criticized by the industry as insensitive to regional and market variations. The government felt, however, that a uniform standard was needed to modernize the industry. The relationship has now switched. The Ministry is more responsive to, and driven by, the needs of the private sector. This change is perhaps most evident in the recent adoption of regional and sector based planning and marketing. In contrast to developments in the late 1950s, when the

‘Departmental policy of confining promotions to the over-all British Columbia picture resulted in the elimination of all regional brochures”74, the Ministry now issues separate 247

titles promoting a wide variety of activities and destinations. For example, major, full colour brochures have been printed on adventure tourism, heritage tourism, saltwater

fishing, freshwater fishing, touring, golf, resort vacations, and honeymoons. The

Ministry also helps publish guides for each of the province’s nine tourist regions.

Proposals for more specific materials (marine adventure tourism) have also been made by

consultants or sector associations. As a result expenditures have increased over the last

five years. In 1991 the Ministry spent $3.5 million (measured in 1949 dollars, compare with Table 5.14), including $1.77 million on marketing (Table 5.15). On per capita basis, these figures are equivalent to expenditures in the mid 1970s. The reader should

be aware, nevertheless, that expenditures can fluctuate widely from year to year and that it is too early to conclude, that a new trend has been established. At present, the tourist industry in Canada, like most others, is in the midst of a recession. Tourist expenditures are not expected to increase until after 1995.

The growth and magnitude of the state’s involvement in tourism is not unique to

British Columbia. State tourist expenditures have grown dramatically in all provinces

and at the federal level since the senate inquiry in 1934. Between 1941 and 1986, expenditures for all provincial and federal tourist bureaus rose 2000 percent after inflation is taken into account (Table 5.14). Since 1971, the record of state tourist expenditures is more varied. Expenditures for the largest bureaus (Canada, Ontario,

Quebec) have paralleled British Columbia’s pattern, stagnating or falling in constant dollars. The change is particularly evident when expenditures are expressed per capita

(Table 5.17). In British Columbia and Ontario, overall expenditures decreased by almost a third between 1971 and 1986. In the Atlantic and Prairie provinces, the upward trend has persisted, although not as strongly since the mid 1970s. This difference reflects, in the case of the Atlantic provinces, the relative importance of tourism to provincial L%)

00

1.22

1.35

1.26

1.17

1.02

2.10

0.71 3.51 2.89

0.38 4.97

0.67

0.26

1986

1.32

0.98

3.41 2.06

3.78

0.74 0.60

0.69 0.98 4.63

0.66

0.97

0.32

1981

1.16

1.02

1.19

1.22

1.10

5.17

0.37 3.25

0.79

0.58 2.42

0.68

0.36

1976

Bureaus

1.02

1.31

1.02 1.12

1.36

0.96

0.80

5.83

0.24

0.58

0.30 0.22

0.90

1971

Tourist

0.77 0.48

0.63

0.77 2.43

0.61 0.86

0.30

0.15 0.17

0.15

0.34

0.22

1966

State

(1949=100)

5.17

by

Canada 1

Dollars

Table in

0.26

0.33

0.37

0.73

0.91 0.84

0.23 0.22

0.09 0.29

0.12 0.10

0.19

1961

Capita

per

Constant

0.18

0.18

0.61 0.27

0.52

0.24

0.09 0.14 0.52

0.17

0.08 0.07

0.15

1956

Expenditures

0.07 0.18

0.25

0.25

0.29

0.11 0.42

0.23

0.04 0.25

0.07

0.08 0.13

1951

source.

N/A

N/A

0.10

0.15

0.27 0.39

0.03 0.10 0.22

0.07 0.03

0.01

0.23

1941

for

5.14

NS

BC

NB

PEI

Sask

Total

NFLD

Table

Alberta

Median

Ontario

Quebec

Canada

Manitoba ‘See 249 economies. Tn 1982 tourist revenue accounted for 14.8 percent of Prince Edward

Island’s gross provincial product, 8.2 percent of Nova Scotia’s, 6.5 percent of

Newfoundland’s and 5.8 percent of New Brunswick’s. In comparison, figures for

British Columbia were 7.6 percent, Ontario 5.9 percent, and Quebec 4.9 percent.75 The emphasis on tourist promotion is not new in Atlantic Canada. Atlantic provinces have always spent more per capita than their western counterparts, although part of this difference is accounted for by the region’s small tax base (they lack, in other words, economies of scale in marketing compared to the other provinces) (Table 5.18). Tourism has been seen as a new resource industry, as a sector that can help diversify the region’s economy, and thereby lessen its dependence on traditional, but “tired” and volatile resources: fish, coal, timber. In some cases (Newfoundland stands out), a significant proportion of expenditures have been financed through the federal government’s regional development programs. Promotional expenditures per capita are higher in Atlantic

Canada but the difference is not as great. Tourist revenues as a percentage of gross provincial products are lower in the prairie provinces (Alberta 6%, Saskatchewan 5.3%,

Manitoba 6.1%). However, these provinces—especially Alberta—have recently spent considerable sums promoting tourism in an effort to diversify their economies. Alberta’s overall tourist expenditures, fueled by oil revenues, increased almost 1000% between

1971 and 1986, while promotional expenditures increased even more in percentage terms. British Columbia consistently ranks near the middle in expenditures per capita.

Mass Tourist Markets and Promotions

Essentially the markets for, and the audiences pursued, changed little between the 1930s and the 1970s. The Visitor ‘74 survey found that Alberta, Washington, Oregon, and

California, accounted for eighty percent of tourists entering British Columbia by automobile. International tourists, in contrast, were estimated at three percent of all ______

Table 5.18

Promotional Expenditures per Capita by State Tourist Bureaus in Canada’

Constant Dollars (1949=100)

1941 1951 1956 1961 1966 1971 1976 1981 1986 Canada N/A 0.07 0.05 0.07 0.09 0.29 0.27 0.25 0.26 BC 0.18 0.08 0.11 0.14 0.23 0.51 0.44 0.42 0.33 Alberta 0.05 0.05 0.04 0.06 0.04 0.09 0.12 0.49 0.82 Sask N/A 0.02 0.04 0.06 0.08 0.13 0.25 0.22 0.24 Manitoba 0 0.11 0.11 0.23 0.24 0.43 0.65 0.54 0.30 Ontario 0.02 0.05 0.07 0.09 0.01 0.20 0.29 0.47 0.59 Quebec 0.06 0.14 0.14 0.11 0.10 0.16 0.34 0.22 0.28 NB 0.15 0.13 0.24 0.47 0.58 0.51 0.82 0.90 0.49 NS 0.13 0.26 0.30 0.50 0.74 0.95 0.85 1.37 0.72 PET 0.25 0.17 0.38 0.62 1.22 2.13 3.02 1.80 1.85 NFLD N/A 0.05 0.09 0.21 0.27 0.76 0.52 0.31 0.41

Total 0.06 0.16 0.16 0.21 0.26 0.56 0.64 0.68 0.73 Median 0.10 0.10 0.10 0.13 0.24 0.47 0.48 0.48 0.45

‘See Table 5.14 for source. 251 visitors and seven percent of tourist expenditures. The largest market were British

Columbians themselves. One tourist out of two was a resident of the province.

Collectively British Columbians accounted for about 40 percent of all expenditures.76

The vast majority (eighty percent) of resident and non-resident tourists relied on the automobile for transportation. Thirty percent of tourists from the United States traveled as families, and over 40 percent of those from Alberta. These figures are typical of the mass markets of the 1950s and 1960s.

In line with the spatial make-up of the province’s market, the Government Travel

Bureau focussed its promotional efforts on the American west coast. The Bureau was well aware that this region had among the highest rates of population growth, per capita income, and automobile ownership in the United States. The Bureau, however, was also sensitive to the fact that its U.S. market was largely confined to these states. It quoted fmdings from American studies that the “average automobile-tourist family covers little more than 1,000 miles on its vacation”. On the basis of such information, the

Bureau’s policy was to retain and increase its share of the markets upon which the provincial industry already depended.77 More distant U.S. markets were only addressed in national magazine advertising. In comparison, the Bureau used a wide variety of media to address Americans living along the west coast. Media used included printed literature, newspapers and magazines, highway bill-boards, television, radio, films, speaking tours, information centres (an information centre was opened in San Francisco in 1961), and trade shows. Printed literature was the most important of these media.

The Bureau often spent one-half, or more of its advertising budget, on creating and printing literature. In 1948, the Bureau distributed some 35 tons of literature. In the mid

1950s, the total was a more imaginable 800,000 pieces. And in the mid 1960s,

“unprecedented requests ... that sometimes [created] crises” resulted in the distribution of 252 over a million and a half booklets, directories, and maps. Tourist surveys indicated that promotional literature was the Bureau’s most effective form of advertising, ranking only behind “friends and relatives” and “previous visits” as a response to the question “What first gave you the idea of vacationing in British Columbia?”.78

Some of the printed material distributed during the 1940s and 1950s were updated versions of booklets originally published in the late 1920s or early 1930s.

Alluring British Columbia, originally published in 1931, was still one of the Bureau’s

‘prestige’ publications in the late 1950s. However, the content and rhetoric of this guide and other literature was modified considerably. In brief texts became shorter and more factual, and more reliant on photographs. The highly embellished prose of earlier guides, a carry over from aristocratic presentations, was edited in favour of a simpler and more direct language. These changes were a response to the full emergence of a mass market in tourism. The Bureau’s objective was to “reach as many as possible of the type of patrons who would be interested in the vacation amenities and accommodation offered by the Province”.79 Little attempt was made to differentiate market segments, except where these could be identified by geography or activity (for example, boaters, or skiers). Undoubtedly, the most well-known literature produced during this period was not a brochure or a booklet but a magazine. Beautiful British Columbia, originally issued in 1959, featured short, descriptive articles and an abundance of photographs of places, people, events, and attractions throughout the province. Although articles lacked the hyperbole of mass market advertising, the explicit purpose of the magazine was to sell the province. The magazine proved extremely successful. Circulation reached

150,000 in the mid 1960s with a subscription base of 80,000. By 1980, circulation had increased to over 430,000 per issue and subscriptions were above 370,000.80

Symptomatic of changes in the 1980s, Beautiful British Columbia has since been sold to 253 private interests, although it still retains much of its former flavour and emphasis. The rhetoric of this advertising is discussed in greater detail in the next chapter.

Postmodern Tourism

This section describes the magnitude, market, and state’s response to postmodern tourism in British Columbia. The section is broken into two parts. Thefirst examines adventure tourism, and the second cultural and heritage tourism. The discussion for both relies heavily on government reports. Since the mid 1980s the Ministry of Tourism has commissioned more than two dozen studies that directly or indirectly address adventure and cultural tourism. Although these studies are not concerned with theories of postmodemism, they provide basic information about its magnitude and character. The results of these studies, nevertheless, should be interpreted cautiously. Studies seldom justify sample sizes, report the statistical variance of data, or list raw data. As a result, it is extremely difficult to verify the accuracy of interpretations. The reader should also be aware that methodologies can vary substantially, and that most studies approach tourism in terms of activities. Few studies use socio-demographic variables, and almost none emphasize tourist motivation to identify industry sectors, forcing theoretically-inclined researchers to read between the lines.

The State and Postmodern Tourism

In the late 1970s, the province of British Columbia and federal government signed an agreement that marks, for reasons that will soon become obvious, the beginnings of postmodern tourism in British Columbia.81 The agreement, formally known as the

Travel Industry Development Subsidiary Agreement, or Tll)SA for short, concerned the joint funding of tourism research and development projects. The agreement had two general objectives. The first objective was to strengthen and stabilize the tourism 254

industry, particularly in less developed regions. Tourism could play, it was argued, a more significant role in the “diversification of the economic base of single-industry urban

centres”. The second objective of the agreement was to develop strategies to help the

tourist industry adapt to social, cultural, and technological changes. Among the most

important changes identified were fluctuating energy supplies, an aging population,

higher education and income levels, increasing environmental concern and the emergence

of a conserver society, and the growing importance of leisure as a means of gaining

personal satisfaction. The TIDSA consultants argued that collectively these changes

would cause tourism markets to become increasingly segmented and competitive in the

1980s and 1990s. They also argued that tourists would become more sophisticated and

demanding of meaningful activities, that the range of activities and experiences sought

would broaden to cover ‘the spectrum from hedonistic pleasures to natural wilderness

adventures and interactions with different cultures’, and that international tourism would

become more important. To meet these changes, and the challenges they posed for the

province’s traditional mass market industry, TIDSA consultants identified three possible

strategies the province could pursue. Firstly, the province could try to maintain current

market segments by adding to and upgrading existing facilities. Secondly, it could

preserve wilderness areas and conserve existing tourism and outdoor opportunities for

use by British Columbians primarily. And thirdly, it could encourage the development

of high quality tourism activities and destination areas along nodal corridors to attract

international, American, and domestic markets. The consultants recQmmended the third

strategy. This option, they argued, was the most sensitive to regional development. It placed the emphasis on, and much of the responsibility for, tourism development in the

hands of local communities. L.J. D’Amour, one of the authors of the initial TIDSA report, is a strong advocate of community-based planning. He argues that closer ties between developers and the community help address local concerns about the “adverse 255 social or environmental effects” that increased tourism may cause (D’Amour 1983). He also believes tourist development can be used to heighten a community’s sense of place by displaying and involving residents in their cultural heritage. The third option was also felt to be more flexible and aggressive in addressing the changing market for tourism.

Consultants argued that British Columbia’s tourist industry—”designed for the automobile touring market of the late 50s, 60s and early 70s”—was presently outdated and “poorly located in tenns of the vacation and travel trends of the 80s and 90s” (my emphasis). While the first and second options addressed these problems marginally, the third option involved a complete re-thinking of tourism, and a “gradual but meaningful shift in the distribution of tourists throughout the province, the nature and quality of the product to be offered and the market segments to be promoted”.82 This report was followed by numerous regional and sector reports. The objective of these reports was to inventory the existing industry and attractions, and to develop specific proposals for future development. Recommendations focussed on the creation of ‘themed’ destinations that would cater to distinct market segments. These proposals, although not fully implemented, should also have significant implications for the promotion of British

Columbia’s tourist landscape. In general, the rhetoric of tourism advertising should become more varied and audience specific.

The accuracy of TIDSA’s predictions, and the success of their strategies for modifying the industry is uneven. In contrast to TIDSA’s expectations, energy costs and inflation have fallen, unemployment risen, and the airline industry has entered a period of considerable uncertainty. Consultants had expected airline traffic in 1990 to be two to three times greater than the levels of the late 1970s in response to deregulation and lower fares. Instead, traffic volumes at Canadian airports have fallen in the 1980s, and in some cases are below levels recorded in 1975.83 Other predictions concerning the formation 256 of a conserver society, the growth of international tourism in Canada, and the emergence of tourist activities centred around education and “inner soul searching and self— identification” have proven only partially correct, while the province’s traditional mass market industry has proven more resilient than expected. For instance, the British

Columbia Motel, Resort, and Campground Association—formed in the 1940s and symbolic of mass tourism—has recently re-emerged as a major voice in the’ industry.

TIDSA has also been criticized as a regional development initiative. A study by

Montgomery and Murphy (1983) also found that most TIDSA development funds were spent in the southwest and Vancouver Island tourist regions. These regions already generate the vast majority of the province’s tourist visits and revenues. New developments in the interior have been slow to materialize. Most areas, furthermore, still cater to, and depend on their traditional market: family based, activity-oriented vacations.

Despite these failures, TIDSA has played an influential role in re-orienting the priorities of the state. For example, the Ministry of Tourism has adopted a regional approach to tourism planning and focussed specifically on the development of nodes and travel corridors. It has also stressed community involvement, publishing a how-to guide that encourages economically, environmentally, and culturally appropriate tourist development.&I It has also worked to increase international tourism (especially countries located along the Pacific rim), and emphasized the development of cultural and especially adventure tourism. Although these sectors account for only a small percentage of the province’s tourist revenue (see below), adventure and cultural tourism are thought to be the growth sectors of the future. These sectors are seen to cater to the sophisticated and affluent tourist in pursuit of education and self-discovery in natural and authentic environments. However, I do not want to suggest that these projects are being 257

undertaken with a full theoretical understanding of postmodern tourism. The TIDSA

reports are well aware of changing demographic trends, and of current concerns about

culture, heritage, and the environment. These changes, however, are not linked in the

reports to broader ideas about the structural re-orientation of western society and culture.

The reports do not, furthermore, exhibit any awareness of the internal contradiction of

the government’s involvement in tourist sectors that are trying to move beyond, or more

precisely, away from the tourist products the government has traditionally promoted.

Nevertheless, through its pursuit of the cultural and adventure tourism markets, the

British Columbia Ministry of Tourism has helped postmodern tourism develop in the province. One could say that TIDSA’s predictions have proven self-fulfilling—that

British Columbia’s tourist industry and the role of government have changed in the directions suggested. How much, and in what ways, are the focus of the nextsections.

Adventure and Cultural Tourism in British Columbia

Adventure tourism, as used in Ministry reports, refers to both ecotourism (nature observation) and non-consumptive wilderness recreation. 85 Specifically adventure activities include heli-skiing, kayaking, backpacking, bicycle touring, river rafting, nature tours, sailing cruises, trail riding, cross country skiing, and scuba diving. Trail riding is reportedly the most important in terms of tourist numbers, although sailing generates more employment, and hell-skiing the most revenue. Many of these activities overlap with mass tourism. What distinguishes adventure tourism is its emphasis on discovery and isolation. The Outdoor Recreation Council defmes adventure tourism as a leisure activity that both takes place in an unusual, exotic, remote, or wilderness location, and involves a high degree of participation, challenge, and perhaps risk. Adventure

tourists are “explorers” of both “outer ... and inner” worlds. 258

Adventure tourism has experienced tremendous growth in recent years. A study by the Outdoor Recreation Council estimates that adventure tourism grew 17 percent annually between 1976 and 1986, although it is not clear whether the figure refers to revenues, employment, operations, or tourists, or if it takes inflation into account. Stifi the figure is remarkable. In comparison, overall tourism expenditures in British

Columbia increased 4.6 percent per annum (in constant dollars) while industry employment in Canada grew slightly less over the same period. Despite this rapid growth, adventure tourism is considered an “immature” component of British

Columbia’s tourist industry. In 1986, the sector earned an estimated $55 million, or less than two percent of provincial tourism revenues.86 Adventure operations were typically small and family run. Average employment was four person years per operation and the median revenue $30,000, although several operations (in particular heli-skiing) earned considerably more (the overall average for hell skiing was $141,000). Few operators, moreover, wished to expand. The adventure tourist industry is described as more of a lifestyle than an occupation. Since 1986, revenue and operations appear to have increased. A survey of 50 marine based wildlife viewing operations in 1989 revealed an average revenue of $84,000, the lowest amongst adventure marine activities. The average revenue for operators of sailing cruises was $166,000 while kayaking operations earned $293,000 on average.87 Consultants predict that revenues for the sector as a whole could top more than $300 million by 1993.88 Future growth depends on preservation of the resource base, greater internal cooperation, more full service operations, and aggressive marketing campaigns.

The market for adventure tourism is surprisingly local given the industry’s emphasis on the exotic and TJDSA’s predictions concerning the growth of international tourism.89 Approximately one-half of adventure tourists are from British Columbia, 259 although this estimate does not include local tourists out on their own. A further 22 percent are from Alberta and Washington state in equal proportions. The percentage of foreign adventure tourists (primarily American and Europeans) is greater than the provincial average (Table 5.19), but their numbers are concentrated in the more ‘exotic’

(and expensive) activities such as hell-skiing and heli-hilcing. The unexpectedly low percentage of foreign tourists is, consultants believe, a promotional problem. British

Columbia, like Canada, is well known for its scenery and wilderness. It is not, however, seen to excel in these qualities. Surveys have found, for instance, that

American travel agents who specialize in adventure tourism do not consider British

Columbia’s adventure resources exotic enough for their clients.90 Even ‘average’

Americans perceive few environmental differences between Canada and the United

States.91

Cultural tourism is both less visible and less studied than adventure tourism. It may, nevertheless, be more important in terms of tourists and revenues.92 The most obvious cultural resources in British Columbia are the west coast native Indian communities, and historical and heritage sites (Barkerville, Fort Steele, the Gold Rush

Trail, Main street developments). Also included in statistical surveys are museums

(including ecomuseums), galleries, and ethnic events. Like adventure activities, these attractions are not exclusively postmodem. Many of British Columbia’s major heritage attractions, Barkerville and Fort Steele for example, were in fact developed in the 1950s and 1960s. However, recent developments are associated with changes in the travel market, and specifically with the demand for more authentic and educational experiences.

Murphy (1990), echoing TD)SA predictions, argues that the ‘era of mass tourism in

British Columbia is drawing to a close, that tourists have become more experienced and demanding, and are now motivated more by opportunities to study and appreciate their 260

Table 5.19

Origins of Adventure and Cultural Tourists in British Columbia1 (%bysite)

Heritage Sites Hat Fort BC Origin Total Adventure Barkerville Creek Steele Museum British Columbia 67 45 72 90 26 23 Alberta 8 11 9 6 30 4 OtherCanada 8 8 4 2 5 7 United States 14 23 9 4 33 58 International 3 11 6 0 6 8

‘B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1989), British Columbia Heritage Site Visitor Survey. 261 environments than by rest and relaxation. The growth of cultural and heritage tourism also reflects a trend to community planning (Tunbridge 1981a; 1981b). The best example of this trend in British Columbia are the Main Sireet projects. These projects, funded by various provincial and federal agencies and programs (Project Pride,

Downtown Revitalization Program, Heritage Canada Foundation), have tried to beautify and breathe new life into the older retail cores of small towns through heritage renovations (Holdsworth 1985). Nelson, a small community in the Kootenays, was chosen for the first Main street project in British Columbia in the late 1970s and early

1980s. Since then numerous other towns in the interior and on Vancouver Island have also undergone heritage renovation: Reveistoke, Greenwood, Rossland, Chemainus,

Grand Forks, Kaslo, and Cranbrook. Most communities actively promote their heritage resources through the publication of architectural walking and driving guides. The Main

Street program is also active in Alberta, and is integrated into a larger push to develop and promote cultural and heritage tourism in the province. In many ways, Alberta has been both more vigorous and successful in this area. Cultural and heritage tourism reportedly accounts for approximately one-third of the province’s annual $2.3 billion intourist revenues (Rock 1992). The sector includes Main Street re-developments, historical, scientific, and cultural (native and European) interpretive centres, and an emphasis on local communities through DiscoverAlberta promotions. Interpretive centres, in particular, have enjoyed success. Attendance at the Tyrrell, Head-Smashed

In Buffalo Jump, Frank Slide, and Stephansson House centres has surpassed all expectations. Local commentators have suggested that the major reason that these attractions are doing so well is their authenticity. “They grow out of the history, culture, or science of the region. They’re developed with high respect for the subject and the visitor’s inteffigence” and as a result provide a “quality experience’—something deeper than Disneyland or the West Edmonton Mall”.93 One also gets the impression that the 262

promotion of cultural and heritage tourism is more strongly supported and thought out in

Alberta. Several other state tourist agencies—Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Montana—have closely examined Alberta’s program.94 In British Columbia, the recent emphasis has been on facilitating developments undertaken by communities or the private sector.

There has been less attempt to integrate these schemes within a larger vision of the provincial tourist product or, even more broadly, the province’s culture. Guides promoting heritage attractions in British Columbia and Alberta are analyzed in Chapter 7.

It is next to impossible to estimate the significance of cultural tourism in British

Columbia. Surveys of heritage sites indicate that a sense of history, authenticity, and education are an important part of visitor’s experiences. For instance, 65 percent of summer visitors to Fort Steele felt authenticity was a critical component of the site—59 percent of Barkerville visitors, and 50 percent of those at the Historic Hat Creek Ranch responded similarly.95 For almost all sites, furthermore, tourists ranked education and personal interest as their most important motivations. These results are impressive; however, many of the survey questions are too general and too leading to draw concrete conclusions about the status of postmodern tourism in British Columbia. The results, furthermore, differ little from visitor surveys conducted at Fort Steele and Barkerville in the 1970s.96 The same is true of general tourist surveys. The Resident Visitor Study and the Visitor ‘87 and Visitor ‘89 studies report that twenty percent of British

Columbians and almost as many non-residents visit museums, galleries, or historic sites on their vacations in the province.97 Over seventy percent said they were very or somewhat interested in visiting heritage sites. These attractions, however, are seldom the primary reason for travel by residents and non-residents alike. This fact was highlighted by the response to cultural marketing campaigns launched by provincial and federal governments in the United States in the mid 1980s. Governments launched these 263

campaigns in response to surveys that indicated that American tourists were surprised by

the number and quality of cultural attractions in Canada. In fact the federal government

argued that”the opportunity to have an exciting vacation in a foreign country that has a

different culture and interesting local customs, traditions, and people” should become the

focus of tourist marketing in Canada: “It is Canada’s foreign mystique that provides the

unique benefit that differentiates this country from the U.S., and that makes Canada

worth coming the extra mile for”.98 Marketing developed along this theme, however, was not very successful. For example, a $300,000 campaign promoting the arts, music,

and theatre of British Columbia to Californians resulted in the redemption of only six of

hundreds of thousands of heavily-discounted coupons for cultural attractions. British

Columbia’s Assistant Deputy Minister in charge of Marketing admitted that culture cannot be sold on its own: “It’s hard to convince somebody in Los Angeles to come to

Vancouver for the theatre. If they see us as moose, mountains and Mounties, that’s nothing to be ashamed of’.99 This perception (or lack thereof) is reflected in the local market for cultural tourism, although the pattern varies considerably with location and attraction (Table 5.19).

Socio-demographic information about adventure and cultural tourists is also extremely limited in government studies. Most studies report only tourists’ residence, sex, and age, although a few also list mean income and, even a smaller number,

occupations and education. Better market data is needed before TIDSA’s predictions, as well as MacCannell and Cohen’s ideas about the formation of a new class of tourists, can be evaluated. As it is, the small amount of data that does exist suggests that adventure

and cultural markets differ only marginally from the overall market. Table 5.20 compares the mean household incomes of adventure tourists (resident and non-resident) who participated in ‘coastal experience’ activities (sailing, scuba diving, kayaking, and 264

Table 5.20

Annual Family Income of Marine Adventure Tourists in British Columbia1 • 1990

Adventure Provincial Tourists Average Income (percent) Under $20,000 5 10 $20,001 to $40,000 28 28 $40,001 to$60,000 43 30 $60,001 ormore 17 18

‘B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1990), Visitors ‘89. B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1991), Marine Tourism in British Columbia. 265 wildlife observation) to that of non-resident and resident tourists. The table indicates marine adventure tourists are more affluent than the market as a whole, although the percentage of households earning more than $40,000 per year was the same for both the adventure and non-resident samples.’°° Similar findings were reported in a TIDSA survey of tourists at Barkervifie, one of the major historic attractions in the interior (Table

5.21), although it should be noted that income levels vary significantly by attraction. In the 1988 heritage survey, median personal incomes (resident and non-resident) ranged between $30,000 and $49,000, with the highest recorded at the Royal British Columbia

Museum in Victoria, and the lowest at lesser known sites in the interior. 101 This variation, and the failure to correlate demographic data with visitor attitudes and motivations in these studies prohibit general conclusions. The same is true of a series of lifestyle studies of potential tourists in major American urban markets. These studies identified three lifestyle clusters—described as Affluent Urban Singles, Young Urban

Ethnics, and Young Professionals—as having the greatest interest in outdoor adventure vacations. The average household income for Affluent Urban Singles is higher than the

US average; however, the latter two are lower. Education levels were more consistent, with all groups recording more college graduates than average. However, groups interested in touring vacations (British Columbia’s traditional market) recorded similar results while the education levels of tourists at heritage sites actually appears to be lower than the provincial average.102 Since 1974, surveys of non-resident markets have always recorded relatively high income, education, and occupational levels.103 This fact may disguise the emergence of a postmodern class of tourists. However, it may equally suggest, in line with earlier arguments (Chapter 3), that adventure and cultural tourism cannot be defmed by demographic variables alone. If this interpretation is correct, then government marketing research needs to be altered considerably. Specifically greater attention must be focussed on the attitudes, motivations, and (non-travel) social activities• 266

Table 5.21

Annual Family Income of Heritage Tourists—Barkerville1 1979

Heritage Provincial Tourists Average Income (percent) Under $10,000 5 10 $10,001 to $20,000 28 28 $20,001 to$30,000 43 30 $30,001 to $40,000 17 18 $40,001 ormore 8 14

1B.C., Ministry of Industry and Small Business (1979), Barkerville Road Tourism Study. B.C., Ministry of Industry and Small Business (1980), Visitors ‘79. 267 of these tourists. Only then, I suspect, can postmodern tourists be identified with any certainty.

The Promotion of Adventure and Cultural Tourism

Prior to the TIDSA report, and in fact until the late 1980s, the promotion of adventure tourism in British Columbia was minimal. The 1986 survey of the adventure sector indicates that the annual marketing expenditure per operation was probably less than

$5000.104 Most operators, furthermore, focussed primarily on local markets, and relied almost exclusively on informal and inexpensive mediums such as word-of-mouth, folded brochures, and trade shows. Radio, television, travel agents, and industry catalogues were seldom used.’°5 The promotional mix appears to have broadened in recent years.

The 1991 survey of marine tourism reports that more than one-half of wild-life viewing operations used nine or more marketing tools. The most commonly used were (numbers in brackets indicate frequency of use): brochures (100%), word of mouth (100%), direct mail (7 1%), Ministry of Tourism guides (7 1%), trade shows (65%), magazine advertising (59%), and complementary trips for travel writers (59%). Still, marketing expenditures remain low. The average for marine wildlife viewing operations was only

$8,000 or five percent of revenues in 1989.

The small amounts spent on promotion reflects both the limited capital of most adventure operations, and the fact that many already operate at capacity. Preservation of the resource base rather than marketing is the primary concern in the sector.’06 The emphasis on informal methods, nevertheless, also reflects a conviction that operators are their own best representatives. Operators feel that sales depend not only on the experiences offered, but equally on the social tone of the tour. Many in fact believe that the way in which they present themselves is critical for business. This interpretation is 268

supported by comments on the marketing of ecotourism by Ryel and Grasse (1991).

They argue that ecotourism differs significantly from the promotions of mass market

brochures. Whereas the latter “are designed to fantasize, romanticize, and aggrandize to

the point where the reader is mesmerized and hypnotized”, the literature of ecotourism

concentrates on the “inherently outstanding facts about the destinations they offer”. The

objective of the ecotourism brochure is to provide enough detail to educate and prepare

the tourist, and to position the operator as an informed and interesting interpreter. Facts

about species to be encountered and mountains to be crossed replace descriptions of

transportation and accommodation. Significantly, market surveys indicate that outdoor

and adventure enthusiasts prefer and rely on these informal promotions much more than

other methods. These observations also correlate with Cohen’s (1985a) analysis of guide-tourist interactions discussed in previous chapters.

Despite the congruence between the methods used and those preferred, consultants have universally described current efforts as “unsophisticated” and

“uncoordinated”, and have recommended greater state participation in the promotion of adventure tourism. In particular, consultants believe that the provincial government should focus on foreign tourists, a market that has been the responsibility of the federal government in the past. Specific recommendations include the publication of generic

(province and sector wide) advertising that highlights the diversity and quality of the province’s natural environment, the use of celebrities (Robert Bateman, Farley Mowat, and David Suzuki are suggested) and influential travel magazines to boost the province’s status as an “exotic” destination, and the publication of “hard information” about the province’s ecology. In addition to international markets, the government has also been encouraged to promote domestic adventure tourism. Specifically consultants suggest that the government should try to “convert” British Columbians who now use the natural 269 environment informally into consumers of adventure tourism products. Adventure operators have also been encouraged to upgrade their literature. To assist their efforts, the Ministry has run work shops, developed marketing manuals, and pushed operators to join associations, utilize Ministry marketing studies, seek the assistance of advertising professionals, and maintain their own customer data bases. Advice on how to prepare brochures and other marketing tools tends to be very general, and emphasizes product and market analysis, budgeting, and media (magazine, industry catalogue) profiles over composition. Furthermore, when rhetorical advice is presented, it characteristically promotes the style of mass market advertising: informal language, personal pronouns, imperatives, short sentences, and information rather than interpretation. Manuals consistently remind operators, furthermore, to ensure that all promotional materials contain basic information on meals, accommodation, transportation, and schedules. 107

This advice runs counter to that of Ryel and Grasse (1991) who argue that the absence of

‘basic’ information is one of the elements that sets adventure literature—literature that describes the tours, settings, social atmosphere, and philosophy of the operation—apart from mass advertising. Basic information, Ryel and Grasse suggest, should be restricted to travel catalogues.

The promotion of cultural tourism has been more intimately associated with the state since it owns many of the province’s cultural resources. As a result, the promotion of tourism is more polished in this sector. Nevertheless, the promotion of many of the

smaller and independent attractions is similar to that found in the adventure sector. To improve the marketing of cultural tourism, consultants have recommended additional

market surveys, greater marketing cooperation between cultural groups, the use of a wider variety and better qualities of promotional material, and the development of themes in order to package diverse cultural attractions into a single product.’°8 270

Many of the recommendations concerning the promotion of adventure and cultural tourism have already been implemented. The Ministry of Tourism now publishes separate guides for Out&or and Adventure Travel and the Gold Rush Trail, a major cultural development promoting heritage attractions along highways leading to Barkerville. These guides are full length booklets (more than 20 pages), complete with maps, route suggestions, and (private) advertisements. The Ministry also publishes or assists (advice, funding, and market analysis) in the publication of materials for communities and private operations, as well as with sector (fishing and touring, honeymoon, golf, camping) and regional guides (Southwestern, High Country) that devote varying coverage to the postmodern sectors. In 1986, the Ministry published approximately 10 million booklets, maps, and guides. The Ministry also provides educational programs and fmancial assistance and guidance for capital projects and events in cooperation with other government agencies. Although much of the work is now contracted out to consultants, government involvement, as argued in the previous section, has diminished little. The Ministry of Tourism still plays a pervasive role in the promotion, regulation, and organization of tourism in British Columbia. The next chapter examines whether the government’s current emphasis on postmodern tourism has changed the way in which it presents landscapes and constructs tourists and whether these efforts differ from the way in which adventure tourism operators promote the province.

Conclusion

To conclude this chapter, I would like to re-emphasize two points and comment briefly on their rhetorical significance. First, I have argued that the initial participation of the state in tourism was intimately tied to the emergence of mass tourism. As such, its participation was not just a response to the growth of tourism. Certainly the recognition 271

of tourism’s economic importance and especially its magnitude in provincial and federal

balances of trade was key. Yet, this was not the only factor. If it was, the state in

Canada would have shown more concern (collecting statistics, regulating movement, promoting traffic) at the turn of the century when tourist volumes first began to increase.

It was the changing spatial, organizational, and market structure of the industry in the

1920s and 1930s that forced (encouraged?) the provincial and federal government to

become intimately involved. In drawing this conclusion, it should also be emphasized

that the relationship between mass tourism and the state was not unidirectional. State

participation was not just a response to larger trends—the state also shaped the

development of mass tourism. In particular, the state helped create the perception of a

mass, standardized tourist market. The market for tourism after 1920 was larger and

broader than before that date. But it is unlikely that the mass market was ever as

homogeneous as state marketing (as well as conservative critics) made it out to be.

Rhetorically, the audience is always a projection. Authors can incorporate information

about its basic demographic qualities and motivations into presentations. However,

since it is impossible to create separate presentations for each member of an audience

(authors cannot, in other words, respond to the audience’s immediate ‘face wants’), the

audience fabricated in a presentation of landscape is always a generalization. In the next

chapter, I argue that the process of rhetorically constructing a mass tourist audience

proceeded haphazardly in the 1920s and 1930s. State promoters knew that the market

had changed. They were, however, uncertain in how to address it, an uncertainty that

resulted in considerable experimentation and change in rhetorical styles. It must also be

recognized that the state,’ as an author, differed considerably from organizations that had

previously dominated tourist promotion in British Columbia. The state is a relatively

anonymous author. It lacks the corporate and spatial identity of the CPR or municipal 272

tourist bureaus. Mass tourist advertising is an act of communication between an

anonymous author and an equally anonymous audience.

The second point I would like to emphasize is that the state has also played a key role in the recent development of a postmodem tourist industry in British Columbia. In a sense, this conclusion is a contradiction in terms. Postmodem tourism is commonly described as a rejection of mass tourism and the industry, including state organizations, that are intimately associated with it. The state, however, anticipated its development and has moved, much in the way Cohen (1981) has described in Thailand, to promote and regulate it. Undoubtedly, state participation in this sector has altered the character of postmodern tourism, moving it, one would presume, closer to the themes of mass tourism. Still, while it is relatively easy for authors associated with mass tourism to sprinkle postmodem ‘code words’ into their presentations, they are less able to re-create their character as an author. Much of the state’s mass tourist rhetoric will likely persist its postmodem presentations. In subsequent pages, I will return to this issue in order to determine if a distinct postmodern style of presenting British Columbia’s tourist landscapes has evolved, and if, and how the promotions of the Ministry of Tourism have changed or adapted to it.

Notes

1The problems encountered in writing the empirical chapters are partially a reflection of rhetoric’s stress on the immediate communicative situation of a text (or speech), rather than on its larger historical and cultural contexts.

2Murphy (1985); B.C., Ministry of Development and Small Business (1979), Technical Report of the Province ofBritish Columbia Tourism Development Strategy. 273

The promotion of immigration was a common justification and measure of success for tourist advertising (Pomeroy 1957). For instance, the annual report of the Victoria Tourist Association for 1902 comments: “The Association can also trace several transactions in real estate to the work done. In quite a few cases people who came for a few days have bought homes here, or have bought lots, and built homes for themselves. No better result than this could be wished for.” Colonist, 14 November 1902, p. 8. J.B. Harkin, commissioner of Canadian National Parks, similarly wrote in 1922 that “Tourist travel ... is one of the best immigration agencies, as it is also one of the best methods of attracting foreign capital, and a policy looking towards its development appears worthy of consideration along with policies of immigration or trade. Canada, Sessional Papers, Department of the Interior, Annual Report of the Dominion Parks Branch, 1923, p. 98.

4B.C., Sessional Papers, Report ofthe Bureau ofProvincial Information and Immigration. “Immigration” was dropped from the Bureau’s title in 1905. See B.C., Acts, 1894, chapter 27, pp. 137-39, and the Colonist, 12 October 1900, p.4. The Legislative Library and Bureau of Statistics had been in operation since 1894.

5From 1907 to 1914, the Bureau was part of the joint Ministry of Finance and Agriculture, with the secretary of the Bureau, R.M. Palmer also serving as Deputy Minister of Agriculture for part of this period. Times, 10 September 1908, p. 4. 6These numbers are taken from the Bureau’s Manual ofProvincial Information (1930: 80).

7The population of the three prairie provinces was 419,512 in 1901, and 1,328,121 in 1911.

8Jn British Columbia, promotional organizations were established in Victoria (Lines 1972), Vancouver, Kamloops, Prince George (Holmes 1974), the Kootenays (Nelson 1985), and the Okanagan.

9The CPR’s attempts to lure settlers to western Canada are described in Hedges (1939). Stephenson and McNaught (1940) also discuss early immigration and tourism advertising in Canada while Troper’s (1972) Only Farmers Need Apply is the definitive account of the Canadian government’s advertising campaigns.

10The Canadian Pacflc, The New Highway to the East Across the Mountains, Prairies & Rivers of Canada (CPR 1887). Hart suggests that Van Home may have composed the text for this publication (1983: 25).

‘tL. Edwin Dudley, Consul-Vancouver (1905), British Columbia Tourist Associations, US Serial Set No. 4839, 58th Congress, 3rd Session, 5 December 1904-5, March 1905, House Documents 333, Consular Reports No. 297. The annual report of the Vancouver Tourist Association also mentions a bureau in Vernon. Province, 28 June 1904, p.2. For a history of the Victoria Tourist Association, see Lines (1972). 274

12Gosnell’s role in the founding of the Provincial Archives of British Columbia are discussed by Eastwood (1982).

131t is not clear why Gosnell chose or was allowed to privately publish the Year Book. Clearly Gosnell must have compiled much of the information for the Year Book through his duties as librarian and statistician. He did indicate initially that any profits from the sales of the volume would be donated to the Library. In the end, however, the cost of printing and distributing the Year Book proved to be greater than anticipated and no donation was made. See B.C., Sessional Papers, Report of the Legislative Library, 1897 and 1898.

‘4Gosnell also published several historical works on the province, including A History ofBritish Columbia, a biography of Sir James Douglas, The Story of Confederation, and a volume of photographs and art entitled Art Work on British Columbia. He also sat on the Victoria Tourist Association, served as secretary of the B.C. Forest Commission, and as secretary to premiers Dunsmuir and McBride (Colonist 6 December 1901, p.6; The Canadian Who’s Who 1910; Eastwood 1981). Gosnell appears to have seldom held an appointment for more than three or four years, a situation which Eastwood (1981: 51) attributes to his abuse of alcohol.

‘5Gosnell had actually suggested the publication of a bulletin series detailing the natural resources of the province while still serving as legislative librarian and secretary of the Bureau of Statistics. Gosnell proposed that the office should not only collect information but aid in its distribution so as to further industry in the province. B.C., Sessional Papers, Report of the Legislative Library, 1898, p. 780. t6Bulletins numbered 11 (mining), 15 (forestry), and 16 (fisheries) were reprinted from the Year Book.

‘7Although Gosnell later returned to the civil service, he was not directly involved with the Bureau again. In 1916 he left British Columbia to live in Ontario (The Canadian Who’s Who 1910; Eastwood 1981).

‘8The CPR and Dominion Government, however, were only peripherally concerned with British Columbia in their immigration literature. Both organizations were primarily concerned with attracting settlers to the interior plains. This emphasis reflected the importance of agriculture and specifically wheat at the time, and the relative status of the regions as political units. Alberta and Saskatchewan did not become provinces until 1905, and thus lacked provincial marketing bureaus. The CPR took a more active role in the presentation of British Columbia as a tourist destination. The Bureau of Provincial Information appears to have been on par with the Victoria and Vancouver Tourist Bureaus. The annual budgets for these organizations were respectively five and eight thousand in 1902. Colonist, 14 November 1902, p. 8; Province, 26 June 1903, p.2. ‘91n 1903, the Bureau placed a complete set of its Bulletin series (and additional maps) with the head masters of British schools, the idea being that the children of today would 275

be the immigrants of tomorrow. There is no evidence, however, that the Bureau consistently used this strategy. B.C., Sessional Papers, Report of the Bureau of Provincial Information, 1904.

2°A special edition of bulletin No. 25, The Game Fishes ofBritish Columbia by John Babcock (a fisheries biologist working for the provincial government) was printed in German.

21Gosnell was a founding and active member of the British Empire League of British Columbia and wrote several articles advocating greater immigration from the United Kingdom. Thus it was perhaps not accidental that the formation of the Bureau coincided with the province’s infamous immigration act whereby only persons who could complete a form in a “European” language were allowed to immigrate and with the increase in the “head-tax” on Chinese immigrants from $5 to $100 in 1901. These attitudes persisted throughout the early history of the Bureau. The 1930 edition of the Manual ofProvincial Information contained a section that outlined the successes of the province in limiting Chinese, Japanese, and East Indian immigration. A readily accessible example of Gosnell’s imperialist vision is a reprint of his 1908 essay “A Greater Britain on the Pacific” in Historical Essays on British Columbia, by J. Friesen and H. Ralston (eds), Toronto, McClelland and Stewart, 1976, p. 14-22. 22B.C., Sessional Papers, Report of the Bureau ofProvincial information, 1902, 1905.

Hart described the Bureau as “shackled hand and foot” and unable to carry out the activities with which it was assigned. Colonist, 9 October 1924, p. 4. Hart later revealed that he had written Premier Oliver in 1923, arguing that the Bureau was ineffective in its present form, and that its scope should be either be enlarged or the Bureau abolished. Times, 12 December 1924, p. 12. 24Colonist, 8 November 1924, p.3; Colonist, 2 December 1924, p.4; Colonist, 4 December 1924, p. 3.

25Colonist, 20 November 1924, p.3.

26Although the opposition conservatives wanted an unrestricted investigation, the Liberals allowed the inquiry to pursue only matters pertaining to the fmancial operation of the Bureau. British Columbia, Journals ofthe Legislative Assembly, 19 November 1924 and 2 December 1924. See also Colonist, 20 November 1924, p. 3 and Colonist, 21 November 1924, p. 3.

27Colonist, 23 December 1924, p. 4. 28The government redirected funding allocated to the Bureau to pay for promotional literature produced by other Departments. Colonist, 4 December 1924, p.3. Furthermore, the level of expenditures at the Agent General’s office in London had actually increased from $30,000 in 1913, to around $75,000 in 1919, and to over $90,000 in 1924. While the Agent General’s office spent approximately $25,000 per 276

annum on advertising in the early 1920s, the Bureau’s advertising expenditures never exceeded $8,500 at this time. B.C., Public Accounts.

29Times, 4 December 1924, p.13.

30Hart wrote this letter in defence of the “very simple but efficient part” he played in “wrecking the plans of ministerial schemers” to entice de-commissioned army officers stationed in India to relocate to British Columbia. In contrast to the glowing reports of the government’s agents, Hart wrote of the disadvantages of life in British Columbia and advised the officers—”unaccustOmed to work [with] no knowledge of farming but good at all games”—that they and their wives would have to perform menial domestic work themselves since help was expensive. Colonist, 4 October 1924, p. 5. For his actions, Hart was denounced in the legislature by T.D. Pattullo, then Minister of Finance, as a ‘poor citizen and disloyal public servant’ and threatened with arrest. Colonist, 23 November 1924, p. 17. This account is based entirely on Hart’s reports.

31Colonist, 5 October 1924, p. 33.

32Colonist, 4 December 1924, p. 1; Colonist, 25 March 1925, p. 6.

33lronically Hart had called only a month before the Bureau’s closure for greater “Co ordination of effort in publicity work” amongst Boards of Trade, Chambers of Commerce, and the Bureau of Provincial Information. Colonist, 13 September 1924, p.4..

Colonist, 12 September 1909, magazine p.1.

35Despite the emphasis on a handbook’s distinctive touristic qualities, the delegates still saw a close association between tourism and immigration, arguing that “if one comes to British Columbia for a stay of several months the charm of the land, if properly presented, should be sufficient to induce permanent residence”.

360ne advocate of regional promotion argued that “In these days of automobiing the country district derives as much benefit in proportion as the larger cities, and the money received from these strangers who often afterwards become permanent residents is, more widely distributed than any other industry”. H. Cuthbert, Times, 5 October 1920, p. 5. 37The Pacific Northwest Tourist Association was formed in 1917 and headquartered in Seattle. Its first head was H. Cuthbert, a promoter who had previously headed the Tourist A,ssociation of Victoria (Lines 1972). It was later supplanted by the Puget Sounders and in turn by the Evergreen Playground Association. See also Times, 26 December 1916, p.16.

38Tjmes, 18 January 1923, p. 18. San Francisco was reported to spend $400,000 annually on tourist promotion, and the states of California $1 million, Oregon $300,000, and Washington $125,000. See Times, 15 March 1923, p.1, 9. See also Times, 9 October 1919, p.9. 277

39Times, 23 March 1923, p.4. A similar assessment is found in the Canada, Sessional Papers, Report of the Dominion Parks, 1921.

4°Canada, Sessional Papers, Report of the Dominion Parks, 1921.

41Evening Citizen (Ottawa), 26 April 1934, p.14. 42Canada, Report and Proceedings of the Special Committee on Tourist Traffic, 5th Session, 17th Parliament, Ottawa, 1934, p. 67,79, 184. Although the CPR emphasized long-haul traffic, its hotel branch developed local and regional advertising in recognition of the “increasing tendency of the short distance tourist to travel by motor car” (p. 66). 431n Canada, the index of hotel and restaurant employment fell approximately 30 percent and the number of passenger miles (July) for railways over 50 percent between 1929 and 1933. In the United States, where more comprehensive statistics are available, the number of hotels (with at least 25 rooms) declined nine percent, revenues by 55 percent, and employees by about one-third between the same years. Only nine percent of hotels in operation during 1933 were opened between 1930 and 1932 as opposed to 28 percent for roadside tourist camps. The number of passenger vehicle registrations in the United States dropped 11 percent while the amount of fuel used by vehicles on highways actually rose. Canada, Department of Trade and Commerce, Monthly Review of Business Statistics; Recent Economic Tendencies in Canada 1919-1934; United States, Department of Commerce, Census ofAmerican Business: Services, Amusements and Hotels, 1935; United States, Bureau of the Census (1976), The Statistical History ofthe United States, NY: Basic.

‘Canada, Report and Proceedings of the SpeciaL Committee on Tourist Traffic, 5th Session, 17th Parliament, Ottawa, 1934, p. 53, 156.

45Evening Citizen, 22 May 1934, p. 1. See also Canada, Hansard, 6 March 1935, for a detailed presentation and debate of the new bureau.

46The promotion of immigration still fell within the mandate of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau. B.C., Statutes of British Columbia, An Act to create a Department of Trade and Industry and to providefor the Investigation ofMatters of Economic Importance, the Encouragement ofIndustry, the Collection and Publication of Statistics, the Development of Trade, and the Stimulation of Tourist Traffic, chapter 73, 1937.

47These figures are reported in Canada, Report and Proceedings ofthe Special Committee on Tourist Traffic, 5th Session, 17th Parliament, Ottawa, 1934.

Over 40 percent of the Bureau’s total expenditures in 1938 and 1939 were paid to the Stewart-McIntosh advertising agency. B.C., Public Accounts. An overview of this company’s early promotional work for the Bureau is found in B.C., Department of Trade and Industry, Advertising Campaign for the promotion oftourist travel, 1940. 278

49Schudson (1984) argues that the development of wide spread distribution networks was also an important component in the formation of mass markets.

5°rhe quality of early data is evident in the samples sizes on which the Dominion Bureau of Statistics made their estimates. For instance, samples of Americans entering Canada on a 60-day automobile (tourist) permit seldom exceeded 1000, while samples for 48 hour and 6 month permits ranged between 5 and 81 for the years 1929 to 1939. Accurate counts and surveys for tourists entering Canada from the United States by train, boat, bus, or plane were not reported until 1936.

51 Hart’s (1983) estimation, the fact that separate records were not kept reflects the relatively minor contribution of tourist traffic to the CPR’s overall revenues. Innis (1971) comes to the same conclusion in his study of the corporation. However, the absence of such data would also reflect the difficulty (and practical value) of distinguishing tourists from other travellers.

52This figure is the number of registrants not the number of tourist nights.

53Viner’s work was one of the earliest attempts to estimate tourist traffic in Canada, and represents a more detailed, conservative, and updated version of a study by Coats (1915). Although Viner’s study has served as a basis for several later studies including Hartland (1960), Simon (1960), and the Dominion Bureau of Statistics, his estimates, by his own admission, must be interpreted with caution since they are based a minimum of data.

54Colonist, 20 September 1908, p. 2. It is unknown how many of these visitors were actually tourists. Most returned the same day with May through August recording the largest volume of traffic. See also a U.S. Consular Report in which it is estimated on the basis of steamship records that more than 60,000 Americans—eighty percent of which were tourists—spent $2.5 mfflion in the Maritime provinces in 1909. Alfred Fleming, U.S. Department of Commerce (December 1909), Monthly Consular and Trade Reports, U.S. Serial Set, 88-5791, 61st Congress, 2nd Session, House Document No. 156, p. 245.

55See, for instance, Marsh (1972), Johnson (1975), Hart (1983), Jakle (1985). However, Pomeroy (1957) does note an increase in local tourism around 1900 in response to growth of western cities, and the popularization of the bicycle as a recreational means of travel. See also Tobin (1974).

56American and overseas tourists did, nonetheless, account for the majority of registrants at the CPR’s hotels.

57For instance, in July of 1908, shortly after the CPR’s Empress Hotel opened in Victoria, 54 percent of the hotel’s registrants were from British Columbia and the Pacific states. Only slightly more than two percent were from Europe, while Ontario and Quebec, and states along the northeastern seaboard recorded just over 8 percent each. 279

The percentage of ‘local’ tourists was higher in the city’s other major hotels (all data from the Colonist). Newspaper reports of hotel registrants appear to be a fairly reliable data source. Selective listings were checked against the original registers of the Empress hotel and were found to be more than 95% accurate (original data provided by the Empress Hotel). Nevertheless, not all guests were recorded. Only registrants (and occasionally the “and wife”) were reported. Still, this data source deserves greater attention from students of tourism, especially in light of the sparsity of official statistics (census) and archived hotel registers. Newspaper reports also have the advantage of being much more accessible and easier to read than hotel registers.

58Foreign automobile tourism was also more resilient than railroad tourism in the initial years of the depression, a situation reflected in the concerns railroad and hotel owners discussed above.

59Canada, Report and Proceedings of the Special Committee on Tourist Traffic, 5th Session, 17th Parliament, Ottawa, 1934.

60Times, 15 September 1923, p.2. The estimate was made by the Vancouver Publicity Bureau. See also Sun, 29 July 1923, p.1. Estimates made by the National Parks Branch were higher, and suggested that British Columbia had the largest tourist revenues in Canada. Times, 1 October 1924, p.4. Subsequent estimates placed British Columbia in a more realistic third behind Ontario and Quebec. For example, Canada, Department of the Interior (July 1926), Natural Resources Canada, 5(7): 1, 2. However, none of these estimates can be considered accurate since they are based on unsubstantiated assumptions about length of stay, party size, and expenditures per tourist. Provincial shares were determined simply by border crossings, emphasizing expenditures in B.C. and New Brunswick but discounting those in Alberta (3% of B.C.’s total), Nova Scotia (3% of New Brunswick), and Prince Edward Island (less than 1% of New Brunswick).

61The 1926 and 1929 estimates are from Annual Reports of the Greater Vancouver Publicity Bureau. The others are found in B.C., Department of Finance, Review of Resources, Production, and Government Finances, annual.

62Since these figures are commonly based on early DBS data and assumptions, they are most likely overestimates of the foreign tourist traffic. For instance, in 1939 the Government Travel Bureau estimated that the value of US automobile tourism in B.C. was $11 million. A systematic regional survey conducted in 1941, in contrast, estimated the value of the same sector at $4.6 million. Although some of this decline is due to wartime conditions, it indicates that early figures were over-estimated by about a third.

63Times, 28 March 1928, p. 2. Sun, 17 December 1931, p. 6; Times, 12 February 1932, p. 1, 5; Colonist, 15 May 1932, p. 1, 2; Sun, 14 March 1935, p. 1; Sun, 31 August 1935, magazine p. 1.

64See Times, 5 July 1929, p. 1, 12. Automobiles from California were the most numerous. 280

65Greater Vancouver Publicity Bureau, Annual Report, 1929. Canada, Sessional Papers, Department of the Interior, National Parks of Canada, Report of the Commissioner, 1927-29. The latter source reported in 1924 that approximately 78 percent of permits for the Mount Rundle campground were issued to Canadian automobiles carrying a total of 9500 visitors.

66B.C., Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau, 1940. Province, 25 January 1936, magazine p. 3; Province, 21 May 1936, supplement p. 22.

67Surveys in the 1930s did report that automobile tourists spent more per person per trip in Canada than those traveling by rail or steamer. See annual reports of Canada, Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Canada’s International Tourist Trade, as well as B.C., Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau.

680ne presenter cited figures to the effect that two-thirds of Americans, 69% of motor cars, 71% of surfaced roads, 73% of the national wealth, and 84% of income tax were located or paid within the 500 mile band.

69Times, 22 Febmary 1937, p. 2. B.C., Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau, 1940. A “See British Columbia first” campaign was undertaken in the late 1930s, but few dollars were spent promoting tourism from Alberta despite the fact that the province was British Columbia’s second or third largest market. See B.C., Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the Bureau ofEconomics and Statistics, 1942.

70Although the internal qualities of the mass market were unknown, promoters were less uncertain about who it did not include. J.B. Harkin, commissioner of National Parks, suggested that it was a fallacy to talk about the Canada’s tourist market in terms of the total population of the United States: “Eliminate 12,000,000 negroes; eliminate the millions of unemployed; eliminate (largely) the millions geographically more than 100 miles from the Canadian border, eliminate the large number of farmers who are not in a position to do much traveling in the tourist season. Eliminate the large number of people with limited means who nevertheless are car owners. On this basis the potential market is very much reduced and it therefore becomes a matter of necessity that all tourist activities be based on a knowledge of all the factors and all the conditions”. Canada, Report and Proceedings ofthe Special Committee on Tourist Traffic, 5th Session, 17th Parliament, Ottawa, 1934.

71The context and content of this legislation is discussed by Nelson (1990).

72Colonjst, 2 June 1961, p.30. Rowebottom continued to sit on the Tourist Council after his retirement. 281

73The actual increase is probably less than this figure as estimates in the 1950s and early 1960s tended to underestimate the importance of domestic and provincial tourism.

74B.C., Sessional Papers, Department of Recreation and Conservation, British Columbia Travel Bureau, 1959.

75Tourism Canada (1985), Tourism Tomorrow. The importance of tourism has declined over the decade since these figures were published. Nevertheless, the impact of tourism economically is still greatest in the Atlantic provinces. Tourism Canada (1990), Canadian Tourism Facts.

76B.C., Department of Travel Industry (1975), Visitors ‘74. See also reports of the Government Travel Bureau.

77B.C., Sessional Papers, Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau, 1955.

78B.C.,Publjc Accounts. B.C., Sessional Papers, Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau, 1949, 1956, 1965. Most advertising through radio, newspapers and magazines was handled by outside advertising agencies.

79B.C., Sessional Papers, Department of Trade and Industry, Report of the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau, 1956.

80B.C., Sessional Papers, Department of Recreation and Conservation, British Columbia Travel Bureau, 1966. B.C., Ministry of Tourism, Annual Report 1980.

81T]DSAs were signed in all provinces except Alberta. See Montgomery and Murphy (1983).

82Al1 citations from B.C., Ministry of Industry and Small Business (1979), Technical Report of the Province ofBritish Columbia Tourism Development Strategy. A summary of this report is found in B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1980), British Columbia Tourism Development Strategy: An Opportunity for the Eighties: A Discussion Paper.

83Statistics Canada, Aviation in Canada, 5 1-501. Domestic passenger volume for Canada’s top 25 city pairs was 10,360,000 in 1975—in 1990 the total was 6,475,630. The peak was reached around 1980 when volumes were in the order of 14 million.

British Columbia, Ministry of tourism, Comox Valley Tourism Strategy, 1986.

Hunting and fishing are sometimes also included in adventure tourism. Canada, Tourism Canada (1983), Tourism Tomorrow. However, I have followed the definitions set out in the Outdoor Recreation Council’s study Adventure Tourism (B.C., 282

Ministry of Tourism, 1988) which distinguish between consumptive and non- consumptive activities.

86This estimate does not include expenditures on clothing, equipment, or transportation. The impact of adventure tourism on the province’s gross domestic product is estimated at an additional $65 million. B.C., Ministry of Tourism, Adventure Tourism, 1988.

87Sffl1, the average income per employee was approximately $10,000. The median revenues are not known. B.C., Ministry of Tourism, Marine Tourism in British Columbia.

88Tourism Canada (1988),Adventure Travel in Western Canada, p.11, 43.

89The British Columbia Tourism Strategy Report identified skiing, wilderness camping, hiking, and wildlife viewing as strong international (US and Europe) travel generators. Many of the Ministry’s and the tourism industry’s recent initiatives have been based on this report. B.C., Ministry of Industry and Small Business (1979), Technical Report of the Province ofBritish Columbia Tourism Strategy, p. 297.

90B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1990), The Commercial Wildlife Viewing Product. This generalization reflects a very narrow market. Larger studies indicate that Americans value comfortable ahead of primitive outdoor vacations. Canada, Tourism Canada, (1989), U.S. Pleasure Travel Survey.

91lronicaliy, adventure tourism is least developed in the province’s most exotic and remote regions. A 1991 survey of adventure tourism in northwest estimated that only thirty operations were present in a region that features the Queen Charlotte Islands, numerous wilderness rivers, and large populations of large mammals (grizzlies, moose, wolves). B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1991), Natural Resource Based Tourism in Northwestern British Columbia. Most of British Columbia’s attractions are located on the soft rather than exotic end of the adventure tourism spectrum. B.C., Forest Resources Commission (1989), Adventure Travel and Land Use, Background Papers, vol. 6.

92Although native tourism was estimated to earn only $2 million and the handcraft industry $6 million in 1979, museums, ethnic events, and heritage sites generated considerably more visitors than adventure tour activities. B.C., Ministry of Industry and Small Business, The Development ofNative Tourism in British Columbia; An Evaluation of the Tourism Potential of the Handcraft Industry ofBritish Columbia; Technical Report of the Province ofBritish Columbia Tourism Strategy.

93Calgary Herald, 26 July 1988, A3.

94Calgary Herald, 26 July 1988, A3.

95B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1989), British Columbia Heritage Site Visitor Survey. 283

96B.C., Department of Recreation and Tourist Industry (1976), Fort Steele Historic Park Visitor Use Study; B.C., Department of Recreation and Tourist Industry (1976), Barkerville Historic Park Visitor Use Study.

9’71n 1976, 12% of British Columbians reportedly visited historic sites. This figure does not include galleries or museums. B.C., Department of Recreation and Travel Industry (1976), B.C. Resident Tourism Survey.

98Tourism Canada (1986), 1985 US. Pleasure Travel Survey.

Sun, 3 November 1987, p.1, 2. Surveys of European tourists indicate that “historic and cultural interest”, “interesting local people”, and an “exotic and exciting atmosphere” are among the least cited motivations for travel in Canada. Tourism Canada (1983), Tourism Tomorrow. See also Tourism Canada (1990), 1989 US. Pleasure Travel Survey.

‘°°The sample size on which the mean income of marine adventure tourists is based is relatively small (approximately 105). B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1991), Marine tourism in British Columbia: opportunity analysis. Similar data for other adventure activities is not available.

‘°‘The variation in income and motivation is evident in the common categorization of adventure tourists in government studies. Typically adventure tourists are broken into three groups:

casual - entry-level adventurers who experiment with short (one to two days) outdoor activities in order to get a “taste of adventure”

committed - fitness conscious travellers who participate in adventure tourism to “enjoy the good life”. Trips are longer and ‘quality’ accommodations and experiences are expected.

expert - people who use tourism to acquire specific knowledge or practice skills. Orthinologists are examples.

The most affluent of these groups are the committed adventure tourists and, for obvious reasons, are the primary target of sector marketing. Causal adventure tourists, however, are probably the largest group. Studies estimate that two out of three adventure tours are day trips.

‘°2Again sample sizes are small and the quality of the data varies widely. B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1991), British Columbia-United States Market Match Survey. Issued under various subtitles: Outdoor Adventure Vacations; Touring Vacations; Resort Vacations; and City Trips. 284

‘°3See B.C., Department of Travel Industry (1975), Visitors ‘74, p 60. While only 25 % of American families earned more that $15,000 in 1974, 53% of American tourists in in British Columbia had incomes above that level. Similar data for Canadian tourists (not including British Columbians) was 14% and 44%.

‘°4Marketing expenditures for the overall sector totaled $4 mfflion, or approximately 6% of sector revenues. However, less than twenty percent of the operations accounted for seventy percent of the total. B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1988), Adventure Travel in British Columbia.

‘°5Adventure operators reportedly spend 71% of their promotional funds in British Columbia and Alberta, 24% in the United States, and 5% in other markets. B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1990), The Commercial Wildlife Viewing Product.

‘°6B.C., Ministry of Tourism, Marine Tourism in British Columbia, p. 15-7. ‘°7B.C., Ministry of Tourism and Provincial Secretary, A Marketing and Product Development Manual for the Freshwater Fishing Resorts ofBritish Columbia, 1989. B.C., Ministry of Tourism, The Commercial Wildlife Viewing Product, 1991.

108B.C., Ministry of Tourism (1986), Cultural Tourism in British Columbia. CHAPTER 6

THE PRESENTATION OF MASS TOURIST LANDSCAPES:

THE RHETORIC OF COMMON CURRENCY

Studies of the rhetoric of inquiry have suggested that academic research is often informed by a single example, or metaphor, to which the researcher returns over and over for inspiration and insight. Such was the case in this study where two or three texts stood out from the over two hundred examined. These texts capture, for one reason or another, the rhetorical character of a period, or highlight a critical point or issue in the transformation of presentations of British Columbia’s tourist landscape. One such text is a booklet with the unimaginative title of Tabloid Travel Talks on British Columbia. This booklet was published in 1930 as part of a series issued by the British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Like many of the Bureau’s booklets, Tabloid Travel Talks presents British Columbia by taking the tourist on a guided tour of the province, pausing here and there to point out natural wonders or sights of historical and cultural significance. The material presented in the guide is not unique in its content nor style. There is, however, one paragraph, and in particular one sentence that sets Tabloid Travel Talks apart.’ Instead of introducing the province with the usual barrage of imagery, Tabloid Travel Talks opens with a brief commentary on the language of tourism advertising. The text begins:

In describing British Columbia, one uses the conventional expressions for the same reason that the cartographer uses his conventional signs, not because they really convey the idea, but simply because they are the common currency.

This sentence is very contemporary, perhaps even postmodern. The author appears to explicitly eschew the representational view that words acquire meaning from those things

285 286 or ideas they represent, and instead suggests that meaning is dependent on convention.

Words are like signs or symbols, and they acquire meaning through use and acceptance.

This perspective is to be applauded in that it recognizes that words and thus tourism advertising, have a history and an ideology. The meanings of words depend on their associations with a cultural-historical context rather than on a direct relation with things or ideas.

I did not, however, return to this passage over and over for its philosophical insight. Rather this sentence caught my attention because it is out of context. If read literally, the sentence appears to undermine the validity of the descriptions that follow,

The author suggests (or admits) that what is to follow is a special ‘rhetoric’. This rhetoric can locate the basic features of British Columbia. But, as a collection of conventions, that do not necessarily “convey the idea”, it cannot provide an accurate description of the province. As if to prove the point, the author immediately follows with a series of slogans:

The more one sees of British Columbia the stronger is its fascination, the readier one is to enthuse, almost to rhapsodize, over its lavishness, its lush richness, its infinite charm and variety. Wonderful scenery, good sport, 20,000 miles of good roads and excellent accommodation combine to make a holiday in British Columbia an experience to be anticipated with eagerness, realized with zest, and remembered for long afterwards with genuine pleasure.

I returned repeatedly to this passage from 1930 because it puzzled me. What was so important that the author thought it was necessary to draw attention to the language of the text? And why did the author characterize the text’s language as “conventional”, as if there was no real reason for using the words chosen? What, in short, was the rhetorical objective of the passage? It is my hypothesis that the answer to these questions is found in the changing character of tourism during the thirties. The inter-war years were a 287 dynamic period for the modern tourism industry, a period of transition from its beginnings in the nineteenth century, to its full emergence as a mass market industry in the 1950s and 1960s. These decades were marked by immense change, not only in transportation, and in the structure and regulation of the industry, but also in the social construction of audiences and authors of tourist landscapes as the rhetorical conventions of aristocratic presentations were gradually displaced by those oriented to tourists traveling by automobile. These changes caused, I believe, significant rhetorical difficulties as the authors tried to modify aristocratic styles and themes—those oriented to an affluent, and educated English audience—to a local, mass tourist market. My thesis is that the opening paragraph of Tabloid Travel Talks is a product of the tension and uncertainty that accompanied these changes. It is a response to a ‘crisis’ in the presentation of landscapes, and specifically to an uncertainty about the contemporary character and motivations of tourist audiences. I believe the author of Tabloid Travel

Talks was troubled by this uncertainty and, in particular, was concerned that the mix of rhetorical strategies chosen might alienate readers. Texts produced at this time are a strange combination of styles, with the author often shifting rhetorical modes between paragraphs, jumping from the grandiloquence of ‘conspicuous travel’ to the colloquial of the mass market. From this perspective the purpose of the opening sentence was not to draw attention to the text. In fact, its purpose was just the opposite: to diffuse the tension between conflicting styles by denying, and thereby undermining, their sociological relevance; ‘the language of advertising’, the author seems to say, ‘is not related to social status, to a particular way of seeing—it is simply convention’.

The chapter is broken into two main sections. The first describes presentations of landscape between 1900 to 1920, while the second focuses on presentations between

1920 and 1945. Both sections begin with a discussion of the computer-based content 288 analysis results. Subsequent pages elaborate on these results, and discuss features not immediately apparent in the quantitative analysis. Numerous tables and examples are provided.

Aristocratic Presentations

The British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information’s presentations of landscapes during the late 1920s and early 1930s have two immediate rhetorical contexts: the

Bureau’s Bulletin series (published between 1901 and 1919), and the literature of the major transportation companies (the Canadian Pacific Railway specifically) and municipal tourist bureaus. The computer-based content analysis suggests that these publications were quite similar (Table 6.1) (see Chapter 4 for definitions of the various lists and indices, and a preliminary analysis of their patterns). Only five of the eighteen lists and indices show statistically significant differences while no consistent patterns of difference appear in their styles or mode of address. Both samples exhibit a highly embellished style compared to the mass and postmodern presentations that came later.

The Bureau’s aristocratic sample, for example, has the highest Qualification (words that qualify judgements) and Hyperbole (exaggeration) averages (the latter tied with the aristocratic tourist sample), and the second highest averages for Familiarity (small, common words) and Certainty (definite words) behind the aristocratic tourist sample

(Appendix B3). Preliminary analysis identified strong correlations between these lists in terms of embellished phrasing. Furthermore, all informational variables are below aggregate averages for both samples (Appendices B3 and Bi). In terms of the mode of address (how the audience and occasionally the author is described), both samples favoured impersonal pronouns. It should be noted, 289 Table 6.1

Rhetorical Character of Aristocratic Presentations 1900-1920

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Bureau of Tourism Z scores Provincial Information Presentations corrected Word Lists (N=19) (N=1 1) for ties

Sentences 15.9 14.7 0.4 Punctuation 18.3 10.6 *2.3 Types 14.6 17.0 0.7 WordLength 16.3 14.1 0.7 Numbers 16.3 14.0 0.7 Familiarity 13.7 18.6 1.5 Certainty 14.9 16.5 0.5 Qualification 17.9 11.3 *2.0 Hyperbole 15.9 14.8 0.3

Personal 15,7 15.2 0.1 Solidarity 15.3 15.9 0.3 Impersonal 13.6 18.9 1.6

View 12.4 20.9 *2.6 Investment 18.0 11.2 *2.0 Activity 13.5 19.0 1.7 Security 11.9 21.7 *3.0 Authenticity 15.6 15.4 0.1 Discovery 15.0 16.3 0.4

* = significant

Critical Value = 1.96 at p = .05, two tailed test 290 moreover, that the Bureau’s averages for all modes of address are well below aggregate averages. This result is indicative of a highly indirect style in which the audience is seldom acknowledged. Only the heritage tourism sample (postmodem period) recorded lower averages for these lists. I will address the reasons for this result shortly. The major difference between the aristocratic samples is their thematic orientation. As expected, the aristocratic tourist sample has the highest average for the View (visual and picturesque references) theme, while the Bureau sample has the same for the Investment

(references to economic values and opportunities) theme. What was not expected is the low View score for the Bureau sample, and conversely the low Investment score for the aristocratic tourist sample. Both sample averages are lower than the aggregate averages for these themes (Appendices B3 and B 1). Although these literatures emphasize different audiences, it was felt that the motivations represented by these themes were closely related, and thus that the aesthetic depiction of landscapes prominent in tourist literature would carry over into the Bureau’s presentations. The samples, furthermore, were not exclusive: several texts in the Bureau sample focus on tourism and recreation while, conversely, a couple in the tourist sample were written for settlers and investors.

A correlation analysis confirmed, nevertheless, that the themes are not positively related,

While relatively similar, there are important differences between the aristocratic samples that arise from their respective orientations and audiences. Most obvious is the difference in strUcture. There are also noteworthy differences in the mode of address and style. These differences are important since the Bureau abandoned some aristocratic conventions yet retained and even picked up others when it began to address tourist audiences in the late 1920s. Specifically, the Bureau moved away from the rhetoric of the Bulletin series and towards the themes and styles of the Canadian Pacific Railway 291

(CPR) and municipal tourist bureaus. The following sections consider these differences in detail.

The Structure of Aristocratic Presentations

The structure of the Bulletin series is one of its central qualities, determining not only the order of its presentations, but also influencing its content and lexicon. The Bulletin series exhibits what Pratt refers to as an informational structure. An informational structure is characterized by an orderly, and usually hierarchical, classification of material according to economic or scientific criteria. The former predominated in the Bulletin series. Both individual bulletins, and the series as a whole, were structured around an

‘industrial’ assessment of the province’s resources. Separate bulletins were published on mining, forestry, agriculture, fisheries, markets, industry, sport fishing and hunting, as well as population, government finances, and immigration. These bulletins essentially functioned as chapters in a larger work, tied together by general and regional publications such as the Handbook ofBritish Columbia and New British Columbia; the undeveloped areas ofthe great central and northern interior. Individual bulletins were typically divided into three general sections. The first section addressed the province’s, physical geography (location, physical features, geology and soils, climate, and hydrology), history of exploration and settlement, and regional organization. The social and cultural aspects of the province were also mentioned, although native and Asian populations were seldom discussed.2 The second section usually accounted for the majority of the text. In general and regional publications, this section reviewed the province’s primary resource industries: agriculture, mining, forestry, and the fishery.

Secondary and tertiary industries were also described, but almost always as subsets of the major resource sectors. The third section was typically the shortest but perhaps the most important. It presented practical information concerning land pre-emption, industry 292 and labour law, immigration policy, and instructions on how to get to the province.

Topical bulletins also used this structure, but with the second section focussing on specific components of the resource in question. For example, bulletins on agriculture typically detailed dairying, fruit ranching, livestock, fodder crops and market gardening opportunities in the province.

Tourism was one of the few non-primary industries to receive individual attention. The Bureau published two bulletins describing game fish and animals (The

Game Fishes ofBritish Columbia, and Game Animals, Birds, and Fishes ofBritish

Columbia). Tourism was also discussed under its own heading in several general and regional bulletins. Tourism was subservient, nevertheless, to the overarching economic structure of the Bulletin series. This status was made clear in a lecture by J.H, Turner, the province’s Agent-General. When introducing the province as a tourist destination, he reminded his audience that “The great wants of the country are capital and population”

(British Columbia of Today). The province’s landscapes were also promoted as aesthetic and social side benefits to settlement. The Bureau tried to lure middle class

English immigrants with descriptions of pastoral scenery, wily game, and recreational pastimes that otherwise were far beyond their reach in England. Under the heading of climate, settlers were told:

The great diversity of climate and the unique climatic conditions existing in the mountains, valleys, and along the coast, to which, if is added the scenic beauty of the landscape, give to life in British Columbia an indescribable charm. There is scarcely a farm house in all the valley regions that does not look out upon great ranges of majestic mountains, more or less distant. The floral beauty of the uncultivated lands and the wonderfully variegated landscape are a source of constant delight. (Manual ofBritish Columbia, 1911) 293

A retired officer from the British Army similarly testified, as a recent immigrant, that the east Kootenay region is,

an ideal place for any Englishman [sic] with a small income who is fond of sport. There is capital bear-hunting in the spring, and the season opens again on September 1st for deer, sheep, goats, etc. The only slack time is in the summer months, and if we only had a few more men we could play polo, as here it would be quite an inexpensive game and well within the reach of those with only moderate means. (Columbia and Kootenay Valley, 1910, emphasis added)

As a rhetorical strategy, the informational structure had both strengths and weaknesses. One of its strengths, according to Pratt (1992), was that it helped tame and civilize the unknown by creating logical associations. Even if a region was unsettled and unexploited, the fact that its resources could be classified according to established frameworks worked to assure prospective settlers that the differences between it and civilized lands were but a matter of capital and labour. The respective ordering of the sections—resources, industry, and courses of action—was also important. It helped narrate the economic transformation of landscape by structurally specifying the temporal and causal relationships between its elements. Thus, when physical features were described, it was always with an eye to their economic potential. Rivers and streams, for example, were not just water courses of a specified length, size, and location—they were routes of navigation, driveways for logs, fisheries, and sources for irrigation and electrical power. The pervasiveness of this perspective is perhaps most evident in the regularity with which economic assessments were tacked onto descriptions of the physical environment. Consider, for example, the following description of the climate of the Lower Mainland:

The many sheltered valleys cutting the Coast Range have distinct climatic peculiarities. Sheltered as they are by the surrounding hills from bleak north winds, the warm breezes from the Coast are freely wafted through them. The 294 sun’s rays are concentrated on the side-hills with almost tropical intensity, and even on the higher benches orchards and vineyards yield enormous crops. (Land and Agriculture in British Columbia, 1903, emphasis added)

Or this physiographic description of the interior plateau:

West of these ranges extends a vast plateau or table-land with an average elevation of 3,000 feet above sea-level, but so worn away and eroded by watercourses that in many parts it presents the appearance of a succession of mountains. In others it spreads out into wide plains and rolling ground, dotted with low hills, which constitutefine areas offarming and pasture lands. (Handbook ofBritish Columbia, 1918, emphasis added)

Pratt (1992) argues that the informational style united a scientific perspective (natural history in particular) with capitalistic motives. The former was concerned with exhaustively cataloguing the world’s flora and fauna—a project in which the hierarchical systems of Linneas and others assisted—and the latter with the expansion of commerce into areas of untapped resources, labour, and markets. She also argues that the scientific project was dominant—at least on the surface. The economic evaluation of new lands was a subtle product of the structure, lexicon, and content of scientific reports. In the

Bulletin series, this relationship was reversed. The industrial structure of the Bulletin series propelled the physical assessment of the province. This dominance is not surprising. British Columbia, like western Canada in general, was considered a vast resource hinterland that should be developed as quickly as possible. Scientific material, in contrast, was presented as context, as the servant and base upon which economic evaluations were built.

While the highly structured approach was well suited to the Bureau’s objectives, it also caused rhetorical problems. For one, it was boring. Bulletins read like catalogues—like poorly executed and over-hyped old style regional geographies. They 295 lacked drama and projection, and bogged down in a surfeit of statistics. The fact that something could be classified seemed to obligate the author to present it. Authors appeared to have simply run down a list of topics, filling any and all data into the appropriate slots. The Handbook published in 1914 contains, for instance, a history of education in the province, postage rates for all classes of mail, the activity costs of growing tobacco in the Okanagan (a marginal crop at best), the seventeen different fees for recording mining claims, and tables summarizing mineral production in British

Columbia since 1852. An over-abundance of irrelevant data was not a trivial problem.

Pratt (1992) suggests that the tedium of the informational style was its Achilles heel, the point at which its critics attacked and gradually broke down its hegemony. Certainly, this analysis holds for the Bulletin series. The series was criticized for its pedestrian approach on several occasions. Tourist promoters, as noted in the previous chapter, wanted more eloquent descriptions of the province, presumably along the lines of those produced by the CPR. These criticisms helped contribute to the demise and eventual replacement of the Bulletin series in the 1 920s. A related problem with the practice of breaking the province’s industries into all possible subdivisions was that it caused authors to include topics on which there was little information, or which were detrimental to the Bureau’s objectives. Authors of the Bulletin series did not go as far as the nineteenth century travel writer Horrebrow, who, in his desire to write an exhaustive account of Iceland, penned a one sentence chapter to the effect that there are no snakes on the island. Still they produced ‘memorable’ statements such as “Grape culture on a commercial scale can scarcely be said to be established in the Province, but whenever their cultivation has been tried in the southern districts it has proved successful”, and

“Sugar beets grow to perfection in several localities, but their cultivation on a large scale has not been attempted”—such are the results when an informational structure is overlain with the rhetoric of boosterism. In some cases, Bulletin authors looked to nature for 296 evidence of the province’s agricultural possibilities. For example, the authors of Bulletin number 26 on the Columbia Valley point to the “existence of hundreds of wild horses” as

“ample proof” of the region’s suitability for raising livestock: “These animals, running in bands numbering from ten or twenty up into the hundreds, make their homes in the foothills and are always in prime condition”. Wild horses, however, compete for valuable forage with livestock, a fact that forces the authors to note quickly that feral animals can be shot given government permission or, even better, that their capture is profitable. Obviously, these topics should not have been mentioned at all. Effective rhetoric depends on knowing what to include and, equally, what to leave out. The structure of the Bulletin series appears, however, to have given little choice in the matter.

The desire for exhaustive, scientific accounts encouraged authors to work in all ‘facts’ and observations no matter how small or irrelevant,

The British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information was not the only organization to structure its presentations around information. This structure was also prominent, although not as well developed, in other booster organizations such as the

Vancouver Island Development Association around the turn-of-the-century. The

Vancouver Tourist Association also used an informational structure. It should be noted, however, that the Vancouver Tourist Association’s publications between 1900 and 1920 were immigrant propaganda thinly disguised as tourist literature. The Association readily admitted this much in the introduction to one of their brochures:

This Booklet is published ... for the purpose of interesting tourists, commercial men, capitalists and others to visit our City and Province, not only to enjoy the many varied attractions that are offered to the tourist, but to induce some of the many thousands that visit us to become permanent residents. (Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada: The coming city of Canada, 1906) 297

The association’s brochures were primarily concerned with detailing the history of Vancouver, its economic progress, population growth, and future prospects.

In contrast to the hierarchical structure of the Bulletin series, the CPR’ s presentations were spatially structured. Texts started at either end of Canada and followed the rail line across the country. This structure appealed to intuition, and was also frequently used by tourists who wrote accounts of their travels in western Canada.

It was not, however, the only possible method. The CPR also structured some of its presentations around activities—hunting, fishing, and mountain climbing were the favourites—and used a regional organization in some of its immigrant literature. The spatial-linear structure was best suited, however, for the visual presentation of landscape, which was the overriding theme and motivation for tourism at this time (Jakie

1985). Landscapes were presented as a series of scenes, or, in the terminology of the picturesque, stations. A station was a vantage point, a point from which ideal landscapes were best seen. Stations were just as important, if not more, than the landscape itself.

The Reverend W. Gilpin, an early and well known proponent of picturesque tours in

England, devoted large sections of his guides to discussions of the qualities of perfect stations. In particular, he argued that stations should transform the landscape into an ideal picture—that they should provide a perspective in which a lighted centre is framed on all sides by broken ground or vegetation, and which is backdropped by the sky or subdued mountain scenery. The CPR’s presentations clearly identified the location of stations and, if located off the mainline, provided directions on how to get to these favoured spots. The CPR’s authors, however, devoted much less attention to the visual qualities of any particular scene. The zenith of picturesque tourism had passed a century earlier. Although its values and vocabulary still informed aristocratic tourism around 298

1900, the skill with which it was practiced had greatly diminished. The following example is from Banffand the Lakes in the Clouds, published in 1903:

On Sulphur Mountain is the observatory. The path to it leads by a series of 28 switch-backs to the summit, where an extensive view of the Lower Bow valley meets the eye, and brings the numerous islands of the Bow into view of the spectator for the first time to advantage. The scene is unequalled from any other point so easily accessible and the visitor is well rewarded for the labour in attaining this elevated spot. The path then winds along the crest of the mountain for nearly half a mile, bringing into view each moment the many attractive points in the several valleys which radiate from this mountain. On attaining the highest point, about midway along the crest, the Cascade valley presents all its beauties, and a portion of Lake Minnewanka is seen with the Palliser and Inglesmaldie ranges towering above it on either side.

This passage clearly features a picturesque appreciation of landscape. Several View words and phrases (‘scene’, ‘view’, ‘meets the eye’, ‘attractive points’) and associated visual terminology punctuate the sentences. The author, nevertheless, seldom pauses long enough to detail the scenes. The scenery is ‘unequalled’, ‘rewarding’, and

‘extensive’; the audience, however, is not told specifically what to look for, or how to view it.

Varieties of Embellishment in Aristocratic Prose

The computer-based content analysis indicated that the samples for both Bureau of

Provincial Information and tourist agencies were highly embellished (richly qualified with adjectives and adjectival phrases). Further analysis indicates, however, that their embellishment is associated with different terminologies and contexts. The Bulletin series was essentially booster literature, rich in hyperbole, bold assertions, and brash comparisons. Would-be English immigrants were told in no uncertain terms that mining is a sure thing, since “there is scarcely a stream of any importance in which at least 299

‘colours’ of gold may not be found”; that “British Columbia fruit, due to its high colour and quality, is preferred above all others in the markets and commands profitable prices”; and that” ... the writer does not know of any lake or stream within its [the province’s] boundaries from which the angler may not at some season of the year fill the largest of creels in a day’s fishing”. Hyperbole and brash comparisons were not limited to descriptions of the province’s physical and economic potential. They were also freely used to colour the province’s social conditions. However, where the former were primarily concerned with the future, descriptions of social conditions focused on the present. Thus, in promoting British Columbia, immigrants were assured the best of both worlds: the opportunity of capitalism and the security of tradition. For instance, consider the following passage from Gosnell’s Yearbook of 1897:

“... the visitor from any part of the empire wilifind conditions similar to those he

has left behind ... He will mingle among men of his own class of intelligence and training; he will discover his own traditions respected; he will associate among people of his own race and national sympathies, and he will confront the same social and political problems. In short, he will be surrounded by men and women and an atmosphere as thoroughly British as are to be found anywhere under the Union Jack and as Canadian as are to be found in the dominion” (The Year Book ofBritish Columbia 1897).

These direct comparisons and appeals complemented the rhetorical function of the

Bulletin series’ structure. Yet boosterism, the offspring and servant of competition, placed the ideology of capitalism front and centre.3 There was nothing subtle about the

Bureau’s motives. Its objective was to sell and populate the province as quickly as possible.

The embellished style of tourist presentations, in contrast, was associated with the aesthetic presentation of landscape. In particular, the CPR drew from the 300 terminology of the picturesque and to a lesser degree the sublime and the romantic. The

CPR was not, however, the first organization to use these perspectives. Numerous studies have identified formal aesthetic responses and renderings of western landscapes in the diaries and accounts of explorers, settlers, and government agents (Smith 1950;

Pomeroy 1957; Tippett and Cole 1977; MacLaren 1983; Hadley 1987; Rees 1973; Rees

1976; Francis 1989). MacLaren (1983) argues that the rhetoric of the picturesque and the sublime proved remarkably resilient and adaptable in the face of unfamiliar terrain and

‘uncivilized’ society. These aesthetics provided a kind of “cultural ‘shelter” that protected travellers from “the flux of new experience that threatened to overwhelm foreigners in a new world” (1983: 7). Formal aesthetics tamed the wilds of western

Canada, effectively transforming them into European scenes. One of the examples

MacLaren discusses was one of the first government sponsored attempts to lure immigrants to the west coast. The work, entitled Facts and Figures relating to

Vancouver Island and British Columbia and written by Joseph Pemberton in 1860, the acting colonial surveyor for the government of Vancouver Island, has few facts, but is replete with the spatial (italicized) and visual (underlined) terminology of the picturesque:

Straight before [the traveller] is the Gulf of Georgia, studded with innumerable islands, which, to be to advantage, should be viewed toward evening, when, as if often the case, the sun is reflected from waters as smooth as an inland lake. In the background is British Columbia, and the furthest of all the Cascade Range, and glittering peaks of Mount Baker. At first sight the whole country appears to be clothed with forest, and it is not until we travel inland that we ascertain that in the lowlands the pines take frequently the form ofbelts, enclosing rich valleys and open prairies, lawns in which oaks and maples, not pines, predominate; marshes covered with long coarse grass, and, lakesfringed with flowering shrubs, willows, and poplars. Nor is the scene in the straight wanting in animation: vessels trading with the sound, steamers, canoes filled with painted Indians, enliven the picture, to say nothing of vast numbers of waterfowl, which awaken the echoes on every side. 301

Pemberton leaves little to chance. He situates the reader in places and at times when scenes are supposedly at their best, and dissects the scenery into its constituent parts. He also explicitly compares the scene to a picturesque ideal, finding it, for example, not

“wanting in animation”. MacLaren does not consider Pemberton’s rendering particularly skilled, however. He argues that Pemberton’s “slightly too strident insistence on picturesque properties ... betrays the illusion”. MacLaren feels, in other words, that

Pemberton’s presentation is too opaque, that the audience cannot see the landscape for the words. MacLaren prefers, in contrast, the use of the picturesque in an account (also published in 1860) of an expedition up the Fraser by Reverend George Hills, the first

Anglican bishop in the colony. Stopping at Hope, Hills finds the scenery “entirely

Swiss”, and suggests that readers might imagine themselves to be “in Chamouni or by the upper Rhine, except there are no glaciers shining in the clouds”. His language, while spatially structured, is simpler and less stilted. Hills writes:

No spot can be more beautiful than Hope. The river Fraser flows past it. The site is on the river bank; on either side are noble mountains; opposite an island. To the back, mountain scenery; trees from the foot to the summit, and deep valleys between, through which flow the rapid and beautiful Quequealla [Coquihalla] and its tributaries, and in which are situated several lakes.

Unfortunately, in MacLaren’s opinion, Pemberton’s rhetorical style prevailed.

By the turn of the century, the picturesque “had been corrupted into the ‘scenic’ brochure” of tourist organizations. Visual imagery persisted, but it was no longer applied in strict accordance with a formal spatial framework. Without this framework, picturesque rhetoric became verbose and bombastic—it had style but not form. What must be one of the most extreme examples of the ‘modified’ picturesque was authored by

Robert MacManus and published in 1890 as The Tourists’ Pictorial Guide and Hand

Book to British Columbia. In the following description of Beacon Hill Park in Victoria, 302 a location renowned at the time for its picturesque qualities (MacLaren 1983), the skeletal framework of the picturesque is detectable, but just barely under a deluge of visual imagery:

Alighting from the cars beneath the umbrageous multitude of leaves which holds the shade from the fierce rays of summer’s sun, the vista opens on green alleys, forest walks, bowers and covets, where scarcely a ray of sunlight falls on the lengthened sylvan gloom. Fountains toss and play, falling in ever changing prismatic showers, rippling the ornamental water beneath where [sic] disport the golden species of the finny tribe. In the open glades the children play and the mature lounge indolently on the rustic seats around all enjoying the delightful shade and the fresh sea breeze beneath the giants of the primeval forest, whose pristine beauty is heightened by contact with civilization. (MacMantis 1890: 39)

At this point, MacManus shifts his perspective, turning from the park to the view it affords across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. His aversion to proper nouns and affinity for descriptive epithets continues:

To the south, through the forest opening, streams, instantaneously striking the eye in rapid radiance, the sheen of the silvery waters of the Straits and the illumined snowtops of the Olympian range beyond. Out into the open from the shade of the cool retreat stretches the green sward rising till the top of the Beacon Hill is reached, then descending to the placid waters that kiss the banks along the shore. The bursting prospect spreads immense around as the height is gained. Mountain, sea and forest, wood and dale, the adjoining city softly enjoining its siesta embossomed in surrounding trees, the straits dotted over with the white winged craft of pleasure, the heavily laden bark or the puffmg, panting steamer, the uncurling waters diffused in a glassy breath to the opposite shores, where the broken landscape of the foreshore ascends by degrees, roughens into hills, over which the snowy peaks of the Olympian mountains appear like clouds skirting the blue horizon. (MacManus 1890: 39) 303

Although the extreme ‘density of meaning’ threatens to collapse the text under its own weight, MacManus is not finished. He paints the scene to the left, right, and to the rear before returning his gaze to the park. And yet, when he is finally finished, he feels that he has still not done justice to the scenery. “But who can paint like nature?” he asks.

“Language fails, nor can words be found tinged with so many colors touched into perfection by the Great Master’s hand, with all the witchcraft of an ensnaring loveliness!” MacManus’ deferment to the “unmatchiess” beauty of nature and the

“mastery” of its creator was a common tactic in picturesque presentations of landscape.

As a theme, it reflects the influence of Romantic aesthetics, and the belief that nature should be appreciated for the sublime and spiritual insights it affords. But as a rhetorical strategy, its purpose is just the opposite—to call attention to language. ‘Even these words, so eloquently played,’ MacManus seems to suggest, ‘are insufficient’.

The embellished style of the CPR was not as extreme as MacManus’s prose.

Yet, the trend noted by MacLaren was also evident in its presentations of tourist landscapes. There are few extended descriptions of singular scenes in its guides.

Stations were identified, but the tendency was to describe the scenic qualities of a region generally. Consider the following description of Vancouver in which the author clearly identifies a picturesque scene, but does not take the time to develop a detailed presentation of its spatial elements.

Its situation is unrivalled, as regards picturesque surroundings ... Upon a hill commanding the best and widest view the Company has erected a large hotel, the

Vancouver ... From its broad balconies a magnificent prospect is revealed. Far to the south-east rises the snow-capped cone of Mount Baker; to the north and north-west, rising directly from the sea, are the imposing giants of the Cascade range; westward, beyond English Bay and the Straits of Georgia, huge purple masses mark the mountains of Vancouver Island; and, to the south-west, across the broad fertile delta of the Fraser river, tower the serrated peaks of the 304 Olympian range, the whole forming a panorama of scenic loveliness unsurpassed in the world. (CPR, Summer Tours on the Canadian Pacific Railway, 1898: 31)

While the CPR’s authors did not have the background, nor the patience, nor perhaps the space to produce a more thorough picturesque description, they were skilled in the picturesque practice of colouring the landscape with strings of modifiers. Few nouns were allowed to pass unmodified, nor opportunities for hyperbole untaken in the CPR’s literature. When encountering mountains they were quickly ‘snow-capped’, valleys made ‘peaceful’, precipices ‘startling’, and the whole combination ‘enchanting’.

Although their evaluations did not contain an economic assessment, they did help tame and make sense of the landscape for European audiences. They are also a product of the detached and objective perspective that characterized the economic assessment of landscape. Like economic texts, these aesthetic renderings seldom directly involved the author or tourist. The landscape was held at a distance and subjected to evaluation and perhaps manipulation by pen and camera.

While the CPR and other tourist organizations moved away from the ideal of the formal picturesque, MacLaren’s evaluation of this trend as a debasement misses the rhetorical importance of aesthetic embellishment in aristocratic presentations of landscape. The purpose of aesthetic embellishment was not to characterize the essence of a landscape; nor was it a serious artistic experiment in the use of a formal aesthetic perspective. Rather its purpose was social. Aesthetic embellishment acted as a social marker, a product to be consumed by tourists concerned about their social status. Even in its late nineteenth century form, the picturesque was the language of the ‘class that traveled’ (Hart 1983). It still required an understanding of artistic associations and some experience or at least knowledge of the famous tourist destinations to which western scenery was frequently compared (and seldom found wanting). Lanham (1983) also 305 argues that embellished prose was much more common and accepted as a “legitimate” style in the nineteenth century. He points out that rhetoric was a “common high school subject in nineteenth-century America. This observation suggests that tourist literature was constructed as much to provide rhetorical satisfaction as information. The rhetorical effect is akin to Burke’s notion of conventional form. Conventional form relies on the audience’s recognition and expectations of a style. The audience draws satisfaction from anticipating the use of particular lexicons, syntaxes, and narrative structures. Thus the success and correctness of embellished prose cannot be judged against a ‘real’ landscape or a formal aesthetic standard, but only against the audience’s knowledge and expectations of a rhetorical style. From this perspective the CPR’s brochures were successful—at least with respect to their ideal audience. As pointed out in the previous chapter, local residents, rather than wealthy Europeans, appear to have comprised the majority of tourists in western Canada at the turn of the century.

Addressing the Aristocratic Audience

In addition to differences in structure and embeffishment, the aristocratic samples also adopted different stances toward their audiences. Both literatures preferred to address tourists and immigrants in the third person. The Canadian Pacific Railway, however, made a greater effort to include their audience in the text, and dealt with it in a more confident and authoritarian manner. The CPR’s texts command tourists through the landscape, telling them where to go and what to expect. In the following excerpt, taken from The Canadian Pacific: the New Highway to the Orient (1890), note how the author delimits even the tourist’s emotional response to the landscape:

Crossing the Columbia, andfollowing it down through a great canyon, through tunnels and deep rock-cuttings, we shortly enter the Beaver Valley and commence the ascent of the Selldrks, and then for twenty miles we climb along 306 the mountain sides, through dense forests of enormous trees, until, near the summit, we find ourselves in the midst of a wonderful group of peaks of fantastic shapes and many colors. At the summit itself, four thousand five hundred feet above tide-water, is a natural resting-place—a broad level area surrounded by mountain monarchs, all of them in the deadly embrace of glaciers. Strange, under this warm summer sky to see this battle going on between rocks and ice—a battle begun eons ago and to continue for eons to come! To the north, and so near us that we imagine that we hear the crackling of the ice, is a great glacier whose clear green fissures we can plainly see. (emphasis added)

The structure of the CPR’ s tourist literature, plus the company’s more defrned character as an author, permitted this tone. The linear structure lent itself to directing tourists from point to point, from station to station. Still the authoritative, assured tone was also found in the CPR’s brochures that promoted immigration. The brochure, British Columbia,

Informationfor Miners Agriculturalists, Tourists and Sportsmen (1900), seldom resorts to qualification or hyperbole to describe the agricultural potential of the province. In the following passage “facts” are presented directly. Even qualification statements are short and to the point.

The soil of Vancouver Island varies considerably. In some parts are deposits of clay, sand and gravel, sometimes partially mixed, and frequently with a thick topsoil of vegetable mould of varying depth. At other places towards the north of the island, on the eastern shore, are some rich barns, immediately available for cultivation. The mixed soil, with proper treatment, bears heavy crops of wheat; the sand and gravelly barns do well for oats, rye, barley, buckwheat, roots, etc., and where the soil is a deep loamy one, fruit grows well.

In contrast to the CPR’s literature, the tone of the Bulletin series is reserved, despite its overarching booster mentality. In fact, the authors of the Bureau’s bulletins seem to defer to their audiences. This tone is most apparent in the frequent use of qualification. Brash hyperbole and wild exaggerations were quickly substantiated or 307 even retracted. One notable example is found in the Bureau’s Bulletin on the Columbia

Valley. Eager to promote agricultural sefflement, but limited by a lack of relevant examples and concrete data, the text oscillates wildly between exaggeration and qualification. On page six, for instance, the text begins with a substantial claim: “The area of the valley proper is roughly about one million acres, and at a modest estimate from 20 to 30 per cent of this is available for crops of grain, vegetables, and fruits, while nearly all the rest is good pasture.” The next sentence, however, quickly qualifies this observation: “The actual extent of cultivable land will only be determined by exploration and settlement, as, so far, the examination of the greater portion of the valley has been superficial.” This sentence is followed, in turn, by glowing accounts about the recent quantity and quality of crops, about how it is has “been established beyond question” that the valley is well adapted to fruit-growing, grains, roots, vegetables, fodder crops, and livestock.4 In the next paragraph, the authors retreat once again: “Notwithstanding all the advantages afforded by the soil and climate the area under cultivation is inconsiderable, and, with few exceptions, little has been done to assist Nature in the way of systematic farming”. This admission was perhaps sufficient to satisfy Hart’s demands for truthful advertising in the midst of his dispute with the provincial government in the mid twenties. The authors, however, proceed to completely undermine their position in the following sentence when they announce that “The population is small and scattered, the means of transportation slow and costly, so there is no incentive to raise large crops, which could not be exported profitably under existing conditions”. This admission is quickly followed by further qualification, but one suspects that any opportunity to convince the reader of the region’s fecundity has already been lost. 308

It could be argued that this highly qualified, and convoluted rhetoric was intentional. Hart, the disgruntled secretary of the Bureau in the 1920s, defended the qualified approach in the media, arguing that government publications should present both the opportunities and the ‘realities’ of life in British Columbia. It may also reflect the haste with which the series was produced, or Gosnell’s sensibilities as a historian.5

It also indicates that the Bureau was not confident with its booster terminology or, more to the point, that it was worried that its rhetoric was inappropriate for its idealized bourgeois audience. Qualification was used to tone down the text. It anticipated objections and permitted interpretation. Bulletin authors, in a sense, “wrote-up” to their parental culture, much as Canadian tourists visiting Europe at this time described their travels in terms of a child and mother re-union (Kröller 1987). One of the ways Bulletin authors thed to create a more equal footing was through the use of testimonials. Recent

English immigrants, preferably ones with formal titles, were frequently quoted. In fact, in some brochures testimonials constituted the bulk of the text. Scientists (especially those associated with Departments of Agriculture) and noted travellers were also favourite sources for quotes.

Summary

From a current perspective, and as suggested by the quantitative analysis, the rhetoric of the Bureau of Provincial Information and tourist organizations between 1900 and 1920 is quite similar. Both are much more embellished and formal than contemporary tourist literature. There are, nevertheless, clear differences in structure, style, and address. The differences arise not solely from different audiences, but also from different subject matters and authorial skills. Thus, when the Bureau’s priorities were reversed (from immigration to tourism) in the mid 1920s, one might expect that its rhetoric would begin to parallel the CPR’s—that the Bureau’s authors would self-consciously move away 309 from their previous rhetoric in the process of accommodating a new style. However, the choices were not that simple. The 1 920s and 1 930s were a period of immense change for the tourist industry. The Bureau was faced with the challenge of not only reworking its presentations for a tourist audience, but of adapting or replacing established rhetorical strategies with ones better suited to the new style of travel.

Early Mass Tourism

MacLaren attributes the demise of the picturesque in part to the rise of mass culture and with it mass tourism. Others have also made this association (Tippett and Cole 1977;

Wicke 1988; Francis 1 989).6 Wicke, however, suggests an alternative explanation that emphasizes internal changes within the advertising industry. Wicke argues that nineteenth century advertising was forced to borrow rhetorical techniques and narrative structures from aesthetic models of representation because it lacked a context of its own.

Over time, however, advertising began to develop its own ‘aesthetic’ framework, and by

1920 this framework had grown sufficiently for advertising to become its own “self- referential system”, resulting in the (gradual) displacement of older rhetorical styles

(1988: 83-4, 120, 175). Wicke claims that the new, emergent rhetoric involved a reconceptualization of the audience to suit the logic of mass production. In order to sell at efficient scales of production, advertisers had to appeal to larger, and thereby broader and less-well defined audiences of potential consumers—that is, to audiences who did not necessarily have literary models as their formative guides. To fabricate and address this new audience, language was simplified and its social significance downplayed.

Perhaps the most telling statistic of this change in the quantitative analysis are declines in the Qualification and Familiarity scores. The frequency of words associated with these lists decrease significantly between the aristocratic and early mass tourism samples

(Table 6.2). The scores for the Hyperbole and Certainty lists also decrease although 310 neither result is statistically significant. In concert with these changes, scores for four out of five information indices increase, although only one is statistically significant.

The changes indicate, contrary to standard interpretations, that presentations of mass tourist landscapes involved the development of a less bombastic, and more factual, rhetoric. Mass tourist presentations appear more bombastic because their hyperbole often occurs in isolation—they lack the defmed aesthetic and social contexts against which such language had previously made sense (Wicke 1988: 131). Associated with these stylistic changes are significant increases in the Activity and Security themes, and a corresponding decrease in the Investment theme (Table 6.2). These changes reflect the conscious re-orientation of the Bureau in the mid 1920s from immigration to tourism (see Chapter 5). When compared to the Bulletin series, the Bureau’s presentations of the

1920s and 193 Os show statistically significant increases for the Security list and the

Sentence and Word Length indices, and statistically significant decreases for the

Familiarity, Qualification, and Investment lists (although it should be pointed out that the

Investment score for this period was still above the aggregate average) (Table 6.3). A comparison of aristocratic and early mass tourist samples found fewer significant changes (Table 6.4). Most prominent were increases in the Activity and Security lists.

Shifts in the frequency of visual terms, along with Personal and Impersonal pronouns, all occur in expected directions, although none are significant. The significant increase in the Solidarity score is the product of a few anomalous observations in the aristocratic sample. Solidarity was not a key mode of address in either period. Changes in style are also in expected directions although, the results are not as patterned as changes in the Bureau’s presentations. 311 Table 6.2

Rhetorical Comparison of All Early Tourist Presentations 1900-1945

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Early Mass Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1900-1920) (1920-1945) corrected Word Lists (N:=30) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 22.3 38.1 **34 Punctuation 29.4 31.6 0.5 Types 30.0 31.2 0.3 WordLength 27.4 33.6 1.4 Numbers 33.0 28.0 1.1 Familiarity 42.0 19.1 Certainty 33.2 27.8 1.2 Qualification 36.7 24.3 **2.8 Hyperbole 33.4 27.4 1.4

Personal 32.6 28.5 1.0 Solidarity 34.0 27.0 **2.5 Impersonal 28.7 32.3 0.7

View 27.6 33.4 1.3 Investment 35.1 25.9 **21 Activity 26.3 34,7 Security 25.3 35.7 **2.3 Authenticity 29.6 31.4 0.4 Discovery 28.8 32.2 0.8

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 312 Table 6.3

Rhetorical Comparison of the Bureau of Provincial Information’s Presentations, 1900-1945

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Early Mass Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1900-1920) (1920-1945) corrected Word Lists (N=19) (N=13) for ties

Sentences 13.4 21.1 **23 Punctuation 15.8 17.5 0.5 Types 14.7 19.2 1.3 WordLength 14.0 20.2 **1.8 Numbers 17.3 15.3 0.6 Familiarity 20.8 10.2 Certainty 16.1 17.1 0.3 Qualification 20.3 11.0 **27 Hyperbole 18.2 14.0 1.2

Personal 19.2 12.5 **22 Solidarity 17.6 14.8 1.2 Impersonal 13.8 20.4

View 13.6 21.2 **23 Investment 19.4 12.3 **21 Activity 16.2 17.0 0.3 Security 12.4 22.5 Authenticity 15.8 17.5 0.5 Discovery 15.6 17.8 0.7

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 313 Table 6.4

Rhetorical Comparison of Other Early Tourist Presentations 1900-1945

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Early Mass Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1900-1920) (1920-1945) corrected Word Lists (N=1 1) (N=17) for ties

Sentences 10.3 17.2 **2.2 Punctuation 12.6 15.7 1.0 Types 14.7 14.4 0.1 WordLength 13.5 15.1 0.5 Numbers 16.0 13.6 0.8 Familiarity 21.7 9.8 Certainty 17.4 12.6 1.5 Qualification 15.8 13.7 0.6 Hyperbole 15.8 13.6 0.7

Personal 13.9 14.9 0.3 Solidarity 16.8 13.0 **2.2 Impersonal 16.4 13.3 1.0

View 16.9 12.9 1.3 Investment 14.1 14.2 0.3 Activity 11.3 16.6 **1.7 Security 11.9 21.7 **3.0 Authenticity 15.6 15.4 0.1 Discovery 15.0 16.3 0.4

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 314

The rhetorical character of early mass tourist presentations does not represent, however, a complete break from the aristocratic. Some of the stylistic features persist, while changes in the mode of address and some of the themes are actually the opposite of the expected. For example, the use of personal pronouns decrease, and the frequency of impersonal pronouns and visual references increase (Tables 6.2 and Appendix B2).

These ‘anomalies’ indicate that this period, as suggested in the introduction, was a transitional one. This assessment is particularly true for the Bureau. In its attempt to address the new tourist audiences, the Bureau appears to have looked both backwards (to the embellished promotions of the CPR), and forwards (to the emergence of an informational mass tourist rhetoric). For instance, the Bureau’s use of View and

Impersonal words increased significantly from the aristocratic to early mass tourist period, effectively bringing the Bureau’s scores into line with both the aristocratic and early mass tourist samples (Tables 6.5 and 6.6). In fact, the Bureau’s early mass tourist sample exhibits few significant differences between either contextual sample. The only notable differences between the two early mass samples is in the frequency of Activity references and the use of Personal pronouns (Table 6.6). In both cases the Bureau lagged behind its counterparts in adopting these strategies. The Bureau appears, however, to have moved more consistently in the direction of an informational style, although the results are not significant.

Overall, these results indicate a trend in tourist presentations to a more personal, less embellished rhetoric centred around the presentation of activities and the industry itself rather than scenery. The educated, if hyperbolic, vocabulary of aristocratic presentations was dropped in favour of a simpler, more accessible language. However, the development of automobile tourism did not immediately revolutionize presentations 315 Table 6.5

Rhetorical Comparison of Aristocratic and Early Mass Presentations

by Tourist Organizations - BPI

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Early Mass Tourism Z scores Tourist Organizations BPI corrected Word Lists (N=1 1) (N=13) for ties

Sentences 10.0 14.7 1.6 Punctuation 9.9 14.7 **17 Types 12.4 12.6 0.1 WordLength 9.1 15.3 Numbers 12.5 12.5 0.0 Familiarity 17.1 8.6 Certainty 13.3 11.8 0.5 Qualification 13.6 11.6 0.7 Hyperbole 14.0 11.3 1.0

Personal 14.5 10.8 1.6 Solidarity 13.8 11.4 1.3 Impersonal 12.7 12.3 0.1

View 12.9 12.2 0.2 Investment 11.7 13.2 0.5 Activity 14.3 11.0 1.2 Security 12.6 12.4 0.1 Authenticity 12.0 13.0 0.4 Discovery 12.5 12.5 0.0

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 316 Table 6.6

Rhetorical Comparison of Early Mass Tourist Presentations 1920-1945

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Bureau of Tourism Z scores Provincial Information Presentations corrected Word Lists (N=13) (N=17) for ties

Sentences 12.8 17.6 1.5 Punctuation 16.9 14.4 0.8 Types 17.8 13.7 1.3 WordLength 18.8 12.9 1.8 Numbers 16.4 14.8 0.5 Familiarity 16.6 14.6 0.6 Certainty 17.6 13.9 1.2 Qualification 15.5 15.5 0.0 Hyperbole 14.7 16.1 0.4

Personal 12.5 17.8 *2.0 Solidarity 16.2 15.0 1.1 Impersonal 17.8 13.7 1.3

View 17.2 14.2 0.9 Investment 16.7 14.6 0.7 Activity 10.9 19.0 *2.5 Security 16.0 15.0 0.3 Authenticity 16.0 15.1 0.3 Discovery 15.5 15.5 0.0

* = significant

Critical Value = 1.96 at p = .05, two tailed test 317 of tourist landscapes, Changes were gradual. The 1920s and 1930s were a period of adaptation and experimentation.

Initial Transitions

The re-orientation of the Bureau from immigration to tourism did not occur immediately after the Bureau re-opened in 1924. In fact the first two publications to appear after that date were still very much directed at the Bureau’s traditional audience: British farmers.

British Columbia, The Centre ofthe Empire suggests that the “new-come?’ should try to acquire farmland, and tradespeople and service sector workers are warned that opportunities are limited. The Bureau also continued to promote the province as a land of opportunity and social mobility. The Bureau’s English audience was asked: “What does the Old Land offer your sons?” The answer, “Except in a few instances, a groove situation which becomes a rut.” British Columbia provided immigrants a chance to escape their economic station in class-bound England. Readers were told in 1925 to:

Get your boys out to the open spaces, where opportunity abounds, before they strike the groove, and they will escape the nit if they have the ambition to succeed.

The qualification with which this sentence ends indicates that Hart’s criticisms did influence the Bureau’s literature in the mid 1920s. In this publication, and in British

Columbia Invites You, published in 1926, booster exuberance is repeatedly qualified.

The latter begins with a statement by the province’s premier, John Oliver, that British

Columbia is still the land of opportunity “For strong-hearted, sturdy men and women, willing to work with their hands, honestly and with patience”. The Centre of the Empire brochure similarly cautions:

Success is not found in any new country; merely more abundant opportunity. The new-comer must bring the element of success with him in his head and 318 hands; he must have the vision to see his opportunities and courage and energy to grasp it and turn it to account He must be prepared to adapt himself to his new surroundings, and adaptability is a greater asset in a new country than ability to carry out one line of work well.

Obviously the Bureau had rethought its audience by this time. After the failure of settlements such as Wahiachin, the provincial government recognized, as the federal government had previously, that the upper classes of English society were ill-suited as pioneers on the Canadian frontier. As a consequence, they turned their attention to those with less capital but more aptitude for hard labour. In addition to these immigrant brochures, the Bureau revised and reissued the Manual ofProvincial Information— hyped as the “cornerstone” upon which a vigorous policy of publicity could be built.8

The 1929 edition of the Manual differs little from its earlier counterparts. It is still strongly focussed on the economic development of the province and retains its cultural biases.9 The Manual was reissued in 1930 due to demand.10 However, this issue was the last published by the Bureau. After the reorganization of the Department of Trade and Industry, the Manual became the responsibility of other agencies, and in the process evolved into regional economic and statistical profiles.

The Bureau’s first tourist publication was a guide to the province’s highways and tourist accommodation. The guide was originally issued in 1926 and updated in 1929, and then again after 1945 on an annual basis. The accommodation guide is still issued, and is thus one of the provincial government’s longest running publications. Initially the guide listed only roadside accommodation. The purpose of the guide was to provide a ready advertising outlet for the fledgling industry. Listings were free, although inclusion was later dependent on the inspection and, from the late 1940s to the early 1960s, the rating of an accommodation establishment.’1 Although new, the guide posed few rhetorical problems. Its structure and rhetoric were ‘pre-determined’ by its content. The 319 guides contain brief descriptions of communities, and general introductions to the province that focus primarily on border-crossing and sporting regulations. Most of the guide’s text, however, is comprised of unadorned listings of accommodation establishments and their facilities. Accommodation guides have changed little in content or style since.

The Bureau’s first general tourist guide was published in 1929. Eight additional brochures were published over the next four years. Brochures in this new series were subsequently revised and reissued through the 1930s and 1940s, and even into the

1950s. However, between 1933 and the end of World War Two, no additional titles were published. It appears that the Bureau decided in the mid 1930s to broaden its media coverage. An advertising company was retained and a newspaper and magazine campaign developed.12 The Bureau’s new brochures were better produced than the

Bulletin series, and were well received by the media and public. The texts were also more polished and consistent in terms of style. All were produced in-house (although the photo-engraving of illustrations was contracted out), and were apparently collaborative efforts since individual authors were seldom identified.’3 Most were illustrated with large black and white or coloured photographs, and some featured colour drawings and illustrations reminiscent of the CPR’ s artistic brochures. In fact, one gets the impression that the Bureau used the CPR’s material as a standard.

In Search of a Rhetoric of Common Currency

While the Bureau appears to have had a definite goal in terms of quality, the rhetorical content of the brochures indicates that its authors were much less confident about the character of their audience and the suitability of their rhetoric. This uncertainty, as I suggested in the introduction, is clearly evident in the opening paragraph of Tabloid 320

Travel Talks (1930). The authors discount the sociological relevance of their text by describing its rhetoric as ‘merely conventional’. The paragraphs that follow display a variety of rhetorical styles. The authors draw on the embellished phrasing of aristocratic presentations in one paragraph, and then switch to a more informal, conversational tone in the next. Figure 6.1 presents two paragraphs from Tabloid Travel Talks. To highlight their differences, I have placed the primary structure of each sentence in bold face, and left secondary structures and modifiers in plain type. I have also underlined phrases in which the authors directly address the audience. In the first example, secondary phrases dominate. Primary structures, with the exception of the first sentence almost appear to function as introductions to the embellishments that follow. Like aristocratic presentations, these secondary structures reveal little about the actual landscape—their purpose in the text is social, to create a literary landscape with which tourists are invited to associate themselves. In contrast, secondary structures comprise a much smaller proportion of the second example. Furthermore, their purpose is to provide information rather than embellishment. Instead of using aesthetic embellishment to connect with their audience, the authors rely on direct references to the text itself

(“speaking of fishing”, “when we say”), in a sense transforming the text into a conversation. At one point, the authors even anticipate and respond to an imagined reader (“Yeah? Positively yes.”). A further difference between these paragraphs is their lexicon and syntax. The lexicon of the first example is literary, although by now ciched, and features a consistent, almost poetic, rhythm. The syntax of the second example is more varied and natural, and contributes to its conversational tone. This running style, as Lanham (1983) describes it, is characteristic of modem advertising. The second example, furthermore, features colloquial expressions, hyphenation, attempts at humour, and a much simpler vocabulary. by so great light of with with trout-fishing everything sheltered California. the bosom and lake fragrance interconnected and the checkered broad where all grand, into its zone. valleys Road Oregon, back Lakes, health-giving across the sunlit coastal throw indescribably Cariboo with is and broad neighbours. Whitesail entire bejewelled the Washington, its the laden of and of flora, that. is scenery across, with 1933) streams, just the feet States alpine indeed 4 (BPI green. 1 2 Eutsuk, Styles extremily as atmosphere the 6.1 mean with where connected of chuckling the Talks we living not Ootsa, of and measure bright bays, Figure Example timbered, Example fine, areas northern but Travel that all, rivers Contrasting the mantle wide a invigorating, heavily at Francois, meadows by Tabloid them and and combined of majestic them lakes high Lake, of incomparably the of of fords clear landing-nets all is largest sea. air another. ravines, everywhere use long to the Stuart group the the nearly exceeds by a dark scenery; of they one are is cool, Lake, and softened little, from trout-fishing lb. and and there group 2 indented peaks freshness instance, Columbia the Babine contrasted big freely contours is for fine. this of than suave say crisp its fishing, is pass in deeply too, less we the glittering British of islands, is Lake, with may of and country area, and when a climate one shade, weighs SIZE, coast Stuart is this incomparably chain IN a Its and lakes The It spruce Speaking Comprised that is And In At that Figure 6.1

Tabloid Travel Talks (BPI 1933)

Example 2 (continued)

Yeah?

Positively, yes.

The fish run in schools up there, and the two-pounders are way down in the infant classes. Another interesting fishing-trip is from Stuart Lake to Trembleur Lake and thence to Takia Lake. The passage from Stuart to Trembleur is exciting without being hazardous. 323

Although the embellishment of the first example is reminiscent of aristocratic presentations of landscape, the ‘corruption’ of the picturesque first noted by MacLaren in the mid 1800s has reached an end by the 1930s. The first paragraph contains a few picturesque code words, but lacks both a unifying visual aesthetic and a spatial vocabulary. Furthermore, attempts to tap into an aesthetic perspective often have comical results. The following was perhaps an attempt at a ‘sublime’ description. The author is describing the Chasm near Clinton.

It is entirely a freak, freakish in its formation, freakish in its fantastic colouring, and altogether wonderful. Pages might be devoted to the Cariboo Road and still fail to exhaust its manifold attractions and peculiar appeal to the traveller in search of “something different”.

Instead of a picturesque terminology, authors employed a range of metaphors.

Anthropomorphic figures or devices were a particular favourite. The Bureau’s brochures are peopled with “brooding” landscapes, rivers with “weight and poise”, and

“chuckling” streams that leapt and played and filled the air with merry music. Romantic images were also popular; however, the rhetoric of the primitive and the remote was much less prevalent than in the literature of tourist agencies in eastern Canada.

Given the presumed intent of their introduction (as outlined at the start of this chapter), I believe the authors of Tabloid Travel Talks were aware that their writing contained a strange combination of styles. And, I believe they were worried about how their rhetoric, magnified through internal contrast, would be received. The rhetoric of

Tabloid Travel Talks is inconsistent. The authors do not develop a singular style or theme, or apply a consistent mode of address. Their failure (inability?) to do so is attributable, I feel, to an uncertainty on the authors’ part about the character of their audience. The authors of this guide (and other brochures issued by the Bureau of 324

Provincial Information during the late 1920s and early 1930s I will argue shortly) do not have a clear sense of their audience and, as a consequence, end up appealing (and constructing) their readers in an ad hoc manner, focussing first on one audience, then switching to the other, and then back again as frequently as the scenes change. The authors were thus concerned that their presentations of landscapes could alienate one, or both, of their audiences. While one paragraph may satisfy the expectations of mass tourists, and their distaste for the embellishment and trappings of aristocratic tourism, the next ruins the appeal. The quick way to diffuse negative reactions was to discharge the social importance of its rhetoric. As conventions, the mix of aristocratic and mass tourist rhetorics were (supposedly) devoid of social significance. They were chosen simply because they were the words, structure, and phrasing that were commonly used—and nothing more,

Other Examples

Similar mixes of rhetorical styles and themes are found within and between the Bureau’s other publications in the late 1920s and early 1930s, although no others displayed the explicit self-consciousness of Tabloid Travel Talks. British Columbia: Playgroundfor the World (1929) was the first guide in the series. Its subtitle was taken from a description of British Columbia by T. G. Longstaff. Longstaff, a travel writer, had lavishly praised the province’s scenery, climate, and sporting opportunities in his own work, predicting that “British Columbia is destined to become the Playground for the

World”. The Bureau’s copywriters, however, borrowed more than a slogan from

Longstaff. It also appears they used his highly embellished and syrupy prose as a model. There are definite parallels between his lexicon, syntax, and images and the

Bureau’s. Compare, for instance, the passage from Tabloid Travel Talks in Figure 6.1 325 with the passage below, a selection of Longstaff’ s prose quoted in the Playground brochure, Parallel phrasing between the brochures has been italicized.

Imagine these [mountains] softened by luxuriant pineforests, by smiling green valleys murmurous with streams, by airy veils of silvery waterfalls tumbling against blackprecipices ofgreen forests and tangling the rainbow in their folds, by brilliance ofalpine meadows sparkling gay with millions of flowers, and by magically tinted lakes; imagine these under a sky blue as the sky of fairlyland [fairyland?], changing under varying light and drjfting purple cloud shadows, glorified at sunrise or sunset into almost unearthly beauty and transformed by moonlight into a veritable palace of dreams, and you reach some slight idea of the beauties. Add the life-giving air ofthe mountains, warm sunny, summer days and pleasantly cool nights, and you have the raw material for the perfect holiday land.

While Longstaff’s prose contributed to the overarching theme and description of

British Columbia, the Playground guide does not open with his sweetly embellished landscapes. The brochure begins instead with a history of exploration and settlement, describinh the contentious discoveries of Drake, and the “beginnings of salmon-canning, dating from 1873 ... [and] agriculture from that time a fur trader planted his vegetables at

Fort St. James in 1811.” The inclusion and placement of this material reflects the lingering influence of the Bulletin series. However, its purpose in this brochure is unclear. The romance of British Columbia’s history is granted but a short paragraph near the end of the text. After this false start, the authors next present the province’s scenic advantages using Longstaff’ s romantic terminology. The discussion is general, hyperbolic, and varied. The authors promote in one sentence the “sublimity and grandeur of the scenery”; in the next “much that is bizarre in the quaint Indian Villages”; and in the next the industries of British Columbia which are held to offer “much of interest for the visitor”. The text then shifts focus again, with little warning, to describe the National and Provincial parks of the province, and, after several pages, it shifts 326 again—this time detailing transportation routes, first rails, then waterways (coastal and inland), and finally highways. This section constitutes the bulk of the text, and should have been used to structure the brochure into a more coherent presentation. Longstaff’s embellished imagery, moreover, has been left far behind by this point in favour of a highly informational, proper name, and fact-dominated rhetoric. In place of “pine scented ozone sifting through great coniferous forests”, the reader encounters plain- wrapped “very interesting travel routes”. In these sections the emphasis is on the quality of roads, route connections, and distances rather than scenery. Readers were told for instance that the,

Cariboo Road, from Ashcroft, follows Bonaparte Valley and joins the historic mining highway from Lillooet at Clinton. Thence it follows over the interior plateau and Fraser River benches to Quesnel and Prince George. At Clinton connection is made with Chilcotin roads to Hanceville, where a road from Williams Lake joins, Alexis Creek, and Tatla Lake, A secondary road through

Nazko Valley connects ... From Clinton roads lead ... From 70-Mile and 100-

Mile roads traverse ... From 153-Mile a branch leads... From Quesnel a road runs

And so on and so forth. To conclude, the text shifts one last time to overview hunting and fishing opportunities. The absence of a coherent structure, the multiple shifts in style and theme, the misplaced introduction—all are indicative of a confused, evolving rhetoric, and of an uncertainty about who is speaking, and how to present the province’s landscapes.

In subsequent brochures, the Bureau solved the structural, and many of the stylistic problems of their first attempt, by segregating diverse material into separate publications. Alluring British Columbia (1931) and Beautiful British Columbia (1933)’ emphasize scenery and feature embellished rhetorics. The latter in fact exhibits the most 327 rigorous use of formal picturesque terminology in the Bureau’s early mass tourist brochures. The brochure, which features four full-page, colour drawings alternating with three full-page black and white photos (all of which demonstrate the picturesque composition of calendar art), focuses on the “infinitely varied” character of British Columbia’s landscapes, on how it is a,

country of strange conjunctions ... Plunged for miles in their [forests’] cool depths, the traveller emerges all unexpectedly upon the wide reaches of the sea, or upon long vistas closed in the dim distance by a chain of peaks. Or he finds himself in a spacious country of wide horizons, where the streams are capricious things with moods that change with the miles, now flowing smoothly between their wooded banks, now chattering across wide shallow bars or churning and

milling in deep black pools ... Smart modernity rubs shoulders with the savage art of earlier days, and a few hours carries one from zones of brisk activity into regions of somnolent villages bristling with totems. The effects are odd, but never incongruous.

The authors use the province’s variety of scenery to structure the guide, with each page devoted to a separate feature: rivers and streams, mountains, history, fjords, grasslands, the pastoral landscapes of Vancouver Island, and the urban attractions of Vancouver and Victoria.

Alluring British Columbia (1933) is a more experimental text. It draws on similar themes (variety of scenery), but uses a regional organization and a unique phrasing. Passages are broken into a series of clauses and sentence fragments through the use of ellipses (note this text’s low sentence score in Appendix Al). This practice might have been an attempt to create a more poetic syntax by creating extended pauses in the text (the text opens with an anonymous poem). It also heightens the text’s embellishment by visually setting key words apart. The results, however, are problematic and confusing—the attempted rhythm is not complemented by any of the 328 standard poetic devices (rhyme, parallelism, sentence length). This experiment was abandoned when the text was re-issued in the 1940s.

British Columbia Invites You to the Land of the Golden Twilight (1930) is also an experimental text. It was one of the Bureau’s first attempts to structure presentations of landscape around the province’s highway network. Golden Twilight focuses specifically on the central and northern interior, and was reportedly an attempt to lure tourists into the less populated regions of the province. The brochure traces the Cariboo

Road—’modernized and improved to meet the needs of motor traffic’—from Yale in the

Fraser Canyon to the “grotesque but artistically carved totem poles” in Kispiox and

Hazelton. This brochure was also the first to feature history as the major attraction. The brochure focuses on the “romance and mystic charm of the pioneer day”. Still older themes are present. Like Alluring British Columbia and Beautiful British Columbia, the text is highly embellished.15 It also exhibits a booster mentality in several places.

Upon the courage, the adventurous spirit, and enterprise of these early pioneers of the West has been constructed the prosperity of the Pacific Slope. To-day mighty cities stand where formerly sprawled the villages of untamed savages, the Indian trails and the pathways of the pioneers have become modern highways, and the primeval forests, while retaining much of their sylvan charm, have been largely robbed of their mastery and atmosphere of mystic adventure. The Land

of Promise ... has become the Place of Fulfilment

In addition to these general guides, the Bureau also issued publications on highways and hunting and fishing. The former guides, as one might expect, diverge most from the aristocratic style and themes. Touring in British Columbia, a Manual of Useful Information (1930), for instance, starts with the romantic imagery of the playground theme, but quickly abandons it for an informational rhetoric of short 329 imperative sentences and an abundance of facts. The following excerpt is a model of anti-picturesque prose:

Easily accessible from the motor-highways are a multitude of diversions to suit the individual tastes of visitors.

Quiet, restful seaside places; hot springs health resorts.

Lodges and bungalow camps in the mountains for mountaineering parties.

For the angler and fisherman the streams, lakes, and sea offer wide scope for sport. Trout are plentiful and sporty, while for those in search of world honours there is the spring or tyee salmon of 60 to 100 lb.

The brochure also contains tables detailing the tenninals and length of British Columbia’s

“scenic” highways, and the combined mileage of unimproved and improved routes (two thirds earth, one-quarter gravel). The authors also quote extensively from Howay’s

History ofBritish Columbia (1942), and provide information on accommodation, border-crossing and sporting regulations, and even include a one and a half page section on the province’s resources. Picturesque Highways provides a more scenic description.

It follows along highways, with the distance of each feature noted in the margin of the text. The language is less embellished than earlier works, yet neither is it the dry, parsimonious text of the Playground or Touring brochures. In fact, from a contemporary perspective, Picturesque Highways is the most readable and informative of the guides published during this period. It has a historical bent and in several places pauses to recount local lore. The reader is told, for instance, that the Big Bend in the

Columbia River (now under the Kinbasket reservoir) was originally known as Boat

Encampment, and was a common rendezvous point for fur traders as the junction of three rivers. Still remnants of visual and economic embellishment persist. The Selkirk mountains to the south of the Big Bend are characterized, for instance, as “Splendid 330

peaks immaculate against the blue ... their lofty saddles hung with glaciers, their sides furrowed with little watercourses, each one adding its quota to the mighty river

[Columbia] which fills the valley with its presence and its power”. Elsewhere the audience is told of highways that skirt “fine growths of timber”, “closely farmed ridges”,

“scenes delightfully pastoral”, and “prosperous farms, mechanized and smartly modem, handsome dairy herds, great flocks of grazing sheep, and [a] variegated patchwork of

closely cultivated fields ... which fmds its only duplicate in the richest of the English shires”.

The Bureau’s literature during this period was clearly as variegated as the fields of the Fraser valley. The Bureau toned down, but did not exorcise the themes of the

Bulletin series. It also looked backwards to the embellished landscapes of the CPR, modifying their visual emphasis with romantic tones and colours. Authors also looked elsewhere for inspiration, experimenting with the unornamented language of instructional manuals and with new spatial structures. The tendency to draw on a variety of rhetorical strategies carried over into their efforts to define the province as a tourist destination. As with rhetorical strategies, the Bureau borrowed from all over. British Columbia was still described as the Switzerland of North America. It was also promoted as the best hunting and fishing grounds on the continent, and celebrated for its scenery, highways, and history. British Columbia, announced the Bureau, is the province that has everything, and yet is uniquely itself.

BRITISH COLUMBIA IS—BRiTISH COLUMBIA. It has the salient features of several scenic countries, but is a counterpart of none. It combines the rugged grandeur of Switzerland, the somber beauty of Norway, the pastoral placidity of the English shires, with a climate suave and cool as that of the Riviera. The scenery is characteristically the scenery ofBritish Columbia; it strikes its own note, exercises its own appeal, its own peculiar charm. (Beautjful British Columbia; emphasis added)’6 331

The success of the Bureau’s promotional efforts is not known. The presentations of the 1920s and 1930s were clearly transitional. They mark the emergence of a mass tourist rhetoric but not its maturity. The next chapter examines subsequent changes, setting the stage for an analysis of the emergence of postmodern presentations of tourist landscapes.

The Transitional Rhetorics of Other State Tourist Bureaus

The British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information was not the only, nor the first tourist organization to recognize and adjust to the new tourism. Other state-run tourist bureaus also experimented with new rhetorics, and many of them, like the Bureau, waffled between the embellished rhetoric of aristocratic presentations and the simpler texts of mass tourism before settling into a consistent style. One of the most remarkable texts published during this period was The Kicking Horse Trail, a historical account and guide to the new motor highway in Yoho National Park between Lake Louise, Alberta and Golden, British Columbia. The booklet, some fifty pages in length and amply illustrated with photographs, was written by a M.B. Williams and issued by the federal

Department of the Interior in 1927. Like Tabloid Travel Talks, the guide opens with a general statement that is designed to orient the reader to its content. In this case, however, the author is more direct and confrontational. Rather than discharging the text of its sociological significance, the author begins with a defence of automobile tourism, and the industrial age upon which it is based. Tackling mass tourism’s conservative critics head-on, Wiffiams writes:

There are people who really profess to believe that this is an unimaginative age. They refer regretfully to our mechanical civilization, as if today men had ceased to see visions and to dream dreams. Yet, in reality, was there ever an age in which the imagination had been so daring and so victorious! Dreams that our fathers counted for madness, how they have taken shape before our eyes! 332 Architectural and engineering achievements that to them would have seemed unthinkable, inventions that have given man a command over space and time as wonderful as the powers bestowed by the genii of the fairytale—as they are so rapidly becoming the realities of commonplace for us that we are in danger of losing the sense of their romance. Not the least wonderful among these, “the horseless carriage” itself, fantastic chimera for so many centuries of wildly imaginative minds. A mere mechanical contrivance, it is true, but already what gifts of new power and enjoyment has it not brought to man? Out of the machine, truly, there has come, if not a god, at least a genius of untold capabilities.

Williams clearly sees the automobile as a liberating device, one that has transformed not only the geography of everyday life, but also, one senses, the social and class boundaries that had previously inhibited travel for all but the few. The 1927 text continues:

Already, in two short decades, have we not seen it practically revolutionize our way of life, sweeping away with one gesture, the old measures of time and distance, and for the first time since he exchanged his nomadic existence for the warm security of the fireside, enabling man to escape from the narrow boundaries of his local parish and to enter upon a wider, more joyous, more adventurous life.

The author develops this theme for a further paragraph before turning his attention to the impact of the automobile on tourism. Here the author reverses the argument, associating the spatial and temporal liberation of “man” with the re-discovery of nature.17

With this new contrivance have come too, new developments in man himself. Through it he is finding his way back to new health and vigour, to a new companionship with the sun and the wind and the sky, to a new love of the beauty of the Earth. At the gates of all her loveliest regions he is asking for entrance and one by one they are opening to let him in. Distance is no longer a barrier, for a man has but to step into a motor car and he has fastened wings to 333 his ankles like Mercury himself. The continent has become his playground, his holiday possibilities reach to the uttermost end of the land.

The apparent objective of this lengthy introduction was to introduce the “Kicking

Horse Trail” as the latest example of how the “genius” of human engineering has recently opened “long-closed regions of wonder and romance”. The highway, however, was not the first access to the park. The CPR’s mainline, opened some forty years earlier, follows the same route. The author, nevertheless, only acknowledges its existence in his historical account of pathfinders and transportation in the park, effectively discounting the fact that thousands of tourists have already admired the its rugged scenery. Williams appears, in fact, to argue that it is only with the automobile that the area has truly come within reach of the masses.

The author returns to this theme throughout the subsequent sections, never apologizing for the highway’s ease of access. Williams argues that the highway, if anything, has heightened the tourist’s ability to perceive and appreciate landscape. The routing of the highway, along with those in the Columbia valley, and Kootenay and

Banif National Parks—which together form, a circle tour (The Mountain Lariat)—was purposefully selected for its aesthetic qualities.

Those who take the whole mountain circle will enjoy an experience which must stand out as one of the most memorable of their lives. It is not only that the regions through which one passes are so enchanting and sublime, but the road itself has been planned and built so that there is a constant variety and one has not a chance to grow tired even of grandeur. At the very moment when the senses seem to have gathered all they can bear of continuous sublimity, the road slips into the forest. Running for miles through cool green silences sweet with pine and fern, to sweep out again with the charm of a fresh discovery upon new combinations of beautiful valleys and tremendous peaks. 334

Williams argues, moreover, that the automobile altered the perception of landscape. Near the end of the guide, the author writes:

And indeed, to travel one of these splendid highways from end to end is to realize that the new Genius has not only lightened man’s labours, and extended his power over space and time, but that it has brought him a fresh world of experience not unlike that of art itself. The swift rhythmic flight of the car over the long rhythmic curves of the road, the constant dipping and rising, the great sweeping descents to the valley—like cuttings of a bird’s wing through the air— the magnificent spiral climbs to the heights, what are these but a new poetry of motion?

To emphasize this point the author contrasts the perspective of aristocratic, train-bound tourists, to the new breed of traveller. Williams argues that while,

An earlier generation loved the quiet contemplation of a beautiful landscape, the

absorption of one particular scene ... this age is set to a swifter tempo which creates its own pleasures, less static but no less ecstatic. And, certainly, to move with the swiftness and rhythm of a bird’s flight, now close to the valley, now high above it, against a changing background of unimaginable splendour that weaves a new ecstasy of movement, to feel half delivered from our animal bondage to the solid earth.

Given Williams’ interpretation, one would expect the author to alter his own rhetoric to suit this new ‘poetry of motion’. He does use some new stylistic strategies.

In the passage cited above, Williams begins several sentences with conjunctions. This tactic is common in presentations of mass tourist landscapes. It makes the text more fluid and thereby lends it a sense of motion—it is more attuned to action than reflection.

Yet, this innovation is outweighed by aristocratic terminology and structures. Like the authors of aristocratic landscapes, Williams turns to the arts for inspiration. In one passage, Williams compares the landscape along the Parks’ highway to a musical score, complete with a prelude, movements, and diminuendos. In addition to the artistic 335 references, Williams’ text also displays the density of meaning, informal address, dependence on adjectives of colour, visual perspective, and the long, complex and highly qualified rhetoric of aristocratic presentations. Despite his defence of the automobile and the new tourism, Williams’ text is far to the embeffished side of the spectrum, challenging even MacManus as a master of purple prose. In the following example only eight of the passage’s 146 words belong to its unmodified primary structure (bold face). The rest is pure embellishment.

The green plumes of the pine trees feathering the lower slopes, the silvery grey limestones splashed and banded with old reds, delicate pinks, yellows and purplish maroons, the crystal veil of a waterfall swaying from far heights, the dazzling gleam of a snow peak or the glitter of green ice where a glacier clutches at some steep face of rock; the intense blue of the sky, stretched like a sheet of thin silk behind the peaks, the slow white clouds, moving in little puffs up the slopes or winding and unwinding their airy scarves about the serene foreheads of the peaks, the changing patterns woven by their purple shadows and the deep shadow of peak on peak—the whole marvellous, dissolving diorama that unrolls for two hundred miles from the eastern gateway of the main Rockies to their western portal, seems almost to belong to another world.

Other texts issued by the federal Department of the Interior at this time also retain some of the characteristics of aristocratic tourism, although not to this extreme. The authors of titles such as Yukon: Land of the Kiondike, and Vacations in Canada have dropped the embellished phrasing of earlier presentations in favour of a simpler, more informal, and more informational rhetoric. For instance, the latter guide, published in

1929, devotes over a quarter of its 95 pages to summaries of border and custom regulations, hunting and fishing laws, and highway speed limits. The guide, furthermore, emphasizes activities over scenery—doing rather than seeing is gradually becoming the the ‘aesthetic’ code of mass tourism. The Kicking Horse Trail is mentioned, but the author directs the reader’s attention to the quality of the road and its 336 connections with other highways (the Banff-California Bee-Line, the Grand Circle

Tour). Even when the authors describe the scenery, the most they can muster are a vapid

“picturesque”, and a weak “truly Alpine”, although a little sublime (and racial) flourish enters from time to time. The physical character of landscape dominates its aesthetic qualities:

No part of America can offer such splendid and varied scenic attractions as British Columbia. Its mountain region, larger than a score of Switzerlands, is truly Alpine in character with glaciers, mountain lakes and waterfalls of

marvellous beauty . . .the famous Inside passage, 1,000 miles of sheltered water seldom exceeding a mile or two in width, and wondrous in its sheer beauty. Long narrow fords cut into the mountains, and along their shores are picturesque Indian villages with their grim and grotesque totem poles.

By the late 1930s, this rhetoric had become well entrenched in the Canadian Travel

Bureau’s presentations. Canada yourfriendly neighbor invites you, published in 1937, is structured by activities and attractions rather than regions,and includes a separate pullout supplement detailing essential information on climate, currency, language and customs, accommodation, and game regulations.

The change from aristocratic to a mass style of presentation could be dramatic. In several instances it appears that bureaus literally dropped the former in favour of the latter overnight. A clear example of this rapid change over is found in a brochure published by the Vancouver Tourist Association. The brochure, entitled Fourteen Days at Vancouver,

British Columbia: Canada’s Evergreen Playground, was first published in 1928. The brochure outlines day by day how tourists could spend a two week vacation in the city

(Figure 6.2). In 1931, the text was revised and re-issued. The second edition bears the same title and structure (and uses many of the same photographs) to present the city.

The text, however, has been radically re-written. The language of the first text clearly a

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Leading among Vancouver’s beaches is English Bay Beach, a Vancouver is encircled by many long, sandy stretches— few minutes [sic] walk from the heart of the city, and situated in English Bay Beach—Second and Third Beaches in a residential area. [...j Kitsilano Beach, across the bay forms Stanley Park—Spanish Banks, Jericho and Kitsilano another vast, sandy foreshore, where thousands splash in the Beaches, close to the city— to the south near the emerald waters. Still further on, a spot that holds a charm as an International Boundary—White Rock—Crescent all-day picnic nook, is Jericho Beach, near which is situated the Beach—Boundary Bay—clean, safe beaches, the water Government aerodrome. of which invigorate and refresh. On Vancouver’s

Indian River Park, a 20-mile boat trip of surpassing beauty 3rd day—Today, the first of many boat thps—to up the protected waters of the North Arm of Burrard Inlet, Indian River Park—twenty miles up the beautiful, through scenery equaling any Norwegian fjord. sheltered North Ann of Vancouver’s harbour—through the busy and intriguing harbour traffic into a fjord-like inlet the beauty of which will astound you.

At Indian River is Wigwam Inn, a modern hotel, and within five Wigwam Inn, at the head of the Arm, is modern but minutes [sic] walk is Cathedral Canyon and Falls of the Spray of individual, a part of the entrancing loveliness of Indian Pearls. River Park. Nearby are many things of interest— Cathedral canyon—Falls of the Spray of Pearls— numerous pleasing walks.

En route, the boat passes Buntzen where two electric power The return to the city is made as the sun is setting in developing plants of the B.C. Electric Railway Company are golden-blue magnificence over the city and harbour. In located. the evening enjoy the sights and entertainments of the city—shows—dances—amusement parks.

00 339 draws on the embellished informational terminology and structure that characterized aristocratic literature. Sentences are long, convoluted, passive, and seldom place the reader in the scene: information precedes experience. In contrast, a lighter, snappier rhetoric prevails in the rewrite. A personal tone predominates, and the use of punctuation, sentence fragments, generalization (a list of the attractions in Stanley Park in the first text are reduced to “many points of interest” in the second), and projection (“you will be tempted”) gave this text a sense of motion—a sense of how the city (not just what) should be experienced.

Another example of changing tourist rhetorics is found in guides published by

Quebec’s provincial tourist bureau in the early 1930s. The cover of one pamphlet, entitled Romantic Quebec: Gaspe Peninsula, shows a touring sedan (presumably the tourist’s) passing an ox cart and weather-beaten peasants on a rural lane. The objective of the brochure, in line with the province’s over-riding theme and similar to Nova

Scotia’s promotion of Peggy’s Cove (McKay, 1988), was to sell the Gaspe as an area untouched by the twentieth century, as a place where lifestyles and landscapes were simpler and quieter. Appropriately, the text is also reminiscent of an earlier era. It opens with a synthesis of the region’s landscapes, including an aristocratic reference to the indescribable magnificence of the local landscape. The text begins:

It is hard to describe the charm of the Gaspé Peninsula, but impossible not to feel it. It is charm compounded of so many elements. The beauty of the scenery, the clear sunshine, the life-giving air, the glorious blue of the sky, all these are part of it, but yet they hardly explain the glamour and fascination of this great vacation wonderland.

The author quickly shifts metaphors—attributing the region’s glamour and fascination to

“The Great Landscape [sic] Architect of the Universe” and likening its beauty to all the riches in nature’s “Pandora box”—before returning to the original imagery: 340 Imagine the ponderous ranges of rolling mountains and hills, the fearsome cliffs and headlands of miles of constantly sea battered coast line; the whole wild landscape clothed and softened by luxurious forests of balsam and pine, by smiling green valleys, by pale blue and emerald lakes, and by murmuring rivers and streams. Place it all in the silver and azure frame of the giant River St. Lawrence and Canada’s Mediterranean sea, the Bale des Chaleurs, and you have a mental picture of a perfect holiday land, and you realize that there still is a country where your dreams may come true.

Although this text features many of the stylistic traits of aristocratic presentations, it also bears the marks of a mass tourist rhetoric. The concluding cliches and advertising slogans (in both passages) clash with the rest of the text. The intrusion of the rhetoric of mass tourism is, nevertheless, nowhere near as obvious as in the second brochure.

Entitled The Old World at Your Door: The French-Canadian Province, Quebec, this publication also features a touring sedan, ox-cart, and a French-Canadian farmhouse

(although power lines symbolically intrude) on its cover, a visual accompaniment to its claims that “The whole population of the Old Province lives in the past”. However, in contrast to the Gaspe brochure, the text of Old World plods along, dispensing information and stereotypes, but calling little attention to itself:

Here lives a population which has most faithfully kept the tradition, language, customs and dress of the past. Here one meets with sturdy stone houses and thatched-roof barns dating back to the French Régime. The churches are among the fmest in the country; their splendid interior decoration deserves a visit. The conservative ‘habitant’ still weaves linen and ‘étoffe du pays’. The floors are covered with variegated home-made rag-carpets.

The direct, active, informational style that eventually came to characterize mass tourism has still not fully emerged in the second text. Imperative verbs are few and tourists are rarely addressed directly. Still, the aristocratic code words are gone as are the complex 341 sentences. Like the Vancouver pair, both texts address the same audience—Americans traveling by car—but they are miles apart in the rhetorical fabrication of their readers.

The CPR and the Persistence of the Picturesque

One might expect that the embeffished rhetoric of aristocratic tourism would have persisted longest in the Canadian Pacific Railway’s presentations of tourist landscapes.

The CPR had both championed the embellished style and had a monetary commitment to the affluent, long-haul tourist market. And in some brochures the embellished picturesque endured. For example, consider the following passage from Resorts in the Canadian Pacific Rockies published in 1923.

The coloring is intense in the foregrounds—filled with soft suggestions, with unguessed witchery of semi-tonal shade, as the prospect dips and fades away from you. The skies are raw blue, the snow on the summits is whiter than seafoam, whiter than summer cloud, white with a glistening untouched whiteness that cannot be named.

In the next paragraph the author changes colours, but reworks the same ideas and structure, creating a strong parallelism:

The still valleys are full ofjade pine trees that fade into amethyst and pearl distances. The spray of a 300-foot cataract is like spun glass. The huge bulk of a tireless and age-old glacier is milky green. The rocks are every shade and subtle blending that only the palette of the First Artist could produce. And the perspective effects are like nothing that can be caught with the camera, or splashed on canvas.

The emphasis in this passage is on the visual, and the incomprehensibility and irreproducibility of nature. However, the inability to let a single component of the landscape pass without embellishment belongs to an earlier age. Even a simple list of attractions within driving distance of Banff cannot escape embeffishment: 342 The Hoodoos (curious giant-like forms of glacial clay and gravel formed by the weathering of the rocks); Lake Minnewanka, a lake of somewhat stern beauty with a plentiful supply of fish; Bankhead and its anthracite mines; Johnston Canyon, with a fine waterfall, westward sixteen miles from Banff, and situated in the midst of a panorama of snowy peaks, and from Banff to Lake Louise, the “loop drive”—are some of these splendid driving trips.

The sensibilities of the picturesque are also detectable in the CPR’ s brochures published in the late 1930s and 1940s. The product, however, is less informed by the full panorama of literary conventions found in the company’s presentations around the turn of the century. The following passage from Your Journey through the Canadian

Rockies, published in 1945, is notable for its visual ordering of the landscape. The passage’s aesthetic structure, nonetheless, has been cut to the bare bones, and lacks the density of meaning and literary flourish that characterized aristocratic presentations:

From the station a magnificent panorama is to be witnessed. To the north is the grey bulk of Cascade Mountain, towering above the town like a grim old idol. To the east are Mount Inglismaldie and the heights of the Fairholm subrange. Still farther to the east the sharp cone of Mount Peechee closes the view in that

direction ... From the Bow Bridge the view is even more magnificent, for the river runs through the centre of the picture, and one who has caught his first glimpse of this picture close to sunset will never forget its breathtaking beauty. From the high elevation of Banff Springs Hotel a somewhat different view is obtained, looking across the junction of the Bow with the smaller and darker Spray River to the distant snow-clad barrier of the Fairholm Range.

While the CPR retained elements of an aristocratic prose, it also experimented, and often more vigorously than other agencies, with the rhetoric of mass tourism. The

CPR was quick to re-work its material around activities (instead of scenery), and to adopt a more personal mode of address. Stylistic changes were also made. filustrations were cut in favour of photographs, the cost of various tours was advertised prominently, 343 and a hurried and fragmented structure was adopted. The text below seldom pauses to describe sites of interest in any depth:

Between Kamloops Station and mileage 126 sites of prehistoric, semi- subterranean houses built by Indians have been discovered in the area that divides the track and the South Thompson River. Local historians offer no origin for the name Monte Creek, perhaps “three-card monte” was a popular pastime in railway construction days! Except for one 500-foot hump at Notch Hill, the line is fairly level for the next 80 miles with an average altitude of 1,160 feet. This is a prosperous mixed farming and fruit belt

This rapid fire recitation of facts and attractions would become common in mass presentations of tourist landscapes. Its adoption by the CPR was probably a recognition that the corporation had to adjust to the new markets. In addition to the new prose, the

CPR opened its own Bungalow camps, carted tourist automobiles by rail through the

Rockies, and gave its hotels much more opportunity to develop local advertising campaigns.

Conclusion

It could be argued that the mix, tension, uncertainty, and even rhetorical confusion of tourist presentations published by the Bureau of Provincial Information during the 1920s and 1930s reflected the talents of different authors or even just random variation.

However, the fact that this transformation was found in several guides, and in the presentations of other state organizations, suggests that the emergence of the mass market and new authors did produce real rhetorical problems. It also suggests that the mass market was not something they simply adapted to, but which had to be created.

The mass market was not something that simply came into its own any more than the fragmentation of the contemporary market is the product of individual choices. The mass market was intimately associated with the growth of capitalist economies and state 344 bureaucracy, the electronic media, the advertising industry, and modem transportation.

The mass market was a product of efficiency, of the desire and need to coordinate markets with the logic of production. In producing a landscape as large as British

Columbia, the Bureau of Provincial Information and the Government Travel Bureau could not address all possible markets. Rather it had to concentrate on the big picture, on combining smaller audiences into larger ones by standardizing and simplifying the rhetoric of its presentations of tourist landscapes. The rhetoric of mass tourism is a common currency—it is the rhetoric of everyone—and thus no one.

Notes

1Another noteworthy quality, although not unique to this publication, was the use of swastikas as section markers. It is not clear why the Bureau chose this symbol. It is highly unlikely that it was used for its sinister political connotations. The Bureau used swastikas for decorative purposes as early as 1918 (see the 1918 edition of the Manual of Provincial Information). But it is strange, nevertheless, that the government used the swastika at a time when it symbolized National Socialism in Germany, even if the full ramifications of that movement were not yet foreseen. The swastika was not used by the Bureau in the late 1930s and 1940s.

2Native communities, when they were discussed, were subject to the same informational structure as the physical environment and resource industries. Native populations were categorized, counted, and compared to other “species” in Canada. Local natives were pronounced industrious and independent—since they “receive no special favors as are accorded to the treaty Jndian”—and yet are “naturally more docile and less nomadic”, and “prepared to accept the sovereignty of white men with good grace”. Although Bulletin authors, felt it was inevitable that “the red man should gradually retire before the white race”, they also appear to have been sensitive to the negative impacts of “civi1ization’ on Native populations and their culture. The inclusion of such material was primarily to assure English immigrants that the local population was not a threat. Chinese and Japanese cultures were seldom mentioned.

3Artibise (1981) describes boosterism as “something more than a compendium of super salesmanship or mindless rhetoric, and something less that a precise ideology”. It was a belief, a “mentality”, that material growth was the measure of success.

4Despite this extreme qualification, the authors reiterate their earlier claims a couple of pages later: “The fitness of the Columbia-Kootenay Valley for all branches of agriculture has been demonstrated by actual results secured by the settlers”. 345

5Gosnell was not known for the accuracy of his monographs (Eastwood 1982).

6Tippett and Cole (1977), commenting on the changing perception of British Columbia’s landscape in art, argue that “By the end of the 1940s the landscape became a passive inspiration to motorists or was vulgarized when ‘Beautiful British Columbia’ became a licence-plate catch-phrase and later was put between full-colour covers of a government glossy. A fmn tradition remained, but it had lost much of its freshness and vitality” (1977: 130). This extreme pronouncement is built on a very asocial interpretation of art and advertising, where the only acceptable purpose of a visual aesthetic is personal expression or artistic experimentation.

7Wicke’s (1988) thesis is actually more radical. She claims that the relationship between literary works and advertising reversed—that advertising became the model for “high modernism” in the twentieth century.

8Province, 2 December 1929, p. 6. 9The 1929 Manual recounts the government’s efforts to limit Asian immigration. Explicit cultural biases were also evident in publications issued as late as 1945. Tn that year, the Bureau published a booklet entitled “Tell me about British Columbia” that was “designed originally to enable British Columbian troops overseas to frame concise answers to the innumerable questions propounded by interested civilians, which explain the comparisons with England”. The text is presented as a series of questions and answers. For example: Q. Isn’t there a fairly large Oriental population? A. About six per cent Q. Do they influence social life in any way? A. Not at all. Q. Are they [Native Indians], or the Orientals, entitled to the vote? A. No.

1QColonist, 4 October 1930, p. 6. ‘1Hotels were not listed until the 1960s.

12Times, 28 February 1938, p.11; Colonist, 28 August 1938, p.25 supplement; W. Baron (1938), “British Columbia—Calling America!”, Pacific Travel, 1(July): 7, 19. B.C., Government Travel Bureau (1940), Advertising Campaignfor the promotion of tourist travel.

13Colonist, 19 April 1930, p. 3; 17 July 1929, p. 5. ‘4No date is given for this publication but it appears to be have been published in the early 1930s, possibly 1933. 346

‘5For example:

It is a wondrous drive from the populous centres of civilization in the South where men work and live in structures of stone and steel, amid the clang and clatter of industry, to the Gateway to the Silent Places in the Land of the Golden Twilight. The wild and awesome artistry of Nature, the wide sweep of open country, the music of turbulent rivers, the placid calm of opalescent lakes, and the wine-like air scented with the health-giving odours of the forests-all combine to make the trip through British Columbia to the fringe of the Great Unknown one that is without parallel on the North American Continent. (B.C. Bureau of Provincial Information, British Columbia Invites You to the Limd of the Golden Twilight, 1930)

‘6Compare this passage with the first example in Figure 7.1 in the next chapter.

‘7The spiritual re-birth of “man-land” relationships was a prominent theme in the environmental and tourist literature at this time. National Parks especially were seen to embody the essential qualities of North American society—pure, simple, and egalitarian—and thus all of the things that European society was not (Runte 1979; Jalde 1985). CHAPTER 7

THE PRESENTATION OF POSTMODERN LANDSCAPES: THE RHETORIC OF DIFFERENCE

The British Columbia Ministry of Tourism’s 1989 Travel Guide has an unremarkable cover—but it is one that received considerable attention, attention that ifiustrates the rhetorical tension that exists between mass and postmodern presentations of tourist landscapes. The cover photograph shows a doe and its fawn standing in an old growth forest in the early morning light. The image fits well with the Ministry’s long-standing

‘Super Natural’ theme. This theme, begun in the 1970s, stresses the beauty of the province’s natural scenery and the recreational opportunities of its wilderness areas. The photograph was also featured in a general magazine advertising campaign in the United

States. In these advertisements, the photograph was accompanied by the line “if you go down to the woods today, you’re in for a big surprise”. The big surprise, the audience was told, is that British Columbia is “like a wilderness park where the ‘child in you’

[canj scamper free” (Persky 1990). This campaign caught the attention of the advertising industry and has helped the photographer of the scene (Ed Gifford) to build a reputation as a “pro who can handle tricky outdoor shoots”. In an exposé of his work in Applied

Arts, Gifford explained the reason for his success: “Location shooting, you’re at the mercy of Mother Nature ... You have to learn to manipulate reality so that it looks better than real. But you don’t want to make it look artificial as if it was made by a computer”.’ Environmental groups were less enthralled about his work. The photograph, they said, was deceiving. The “big surprise”, they suggested, is that there is any old growth forest left. Over the last decade British Columbia has increasingly been criticized for its poor environmental legislation. Environmentalists argue that forests are not being re-planted quickly enough, and have mounted strong public 347 348 campaigns to protect the few old growth forests that remain. Even general consumption magazines, such as National Geographic, have begun to describe British Columbia as the

‘Brazil of the North’. As it is, the photograph was staged. The stand of old growth shown is not a remote forest, but rather a 136 hectare pocket park (Cathedral Grove) on

Vancouver Island.2 The deer, moreover, were imported from a local petting zoo, and even the mist and the sunlight were faked.

The ‘Big Surprise’ advertising campaign, and the criticism it has received, are symbolic of recent changes that have taken place in tourism. As described in Chapter 5, adventure tourism has grown significantly over the last decade and a half in British

Columbia, and the Ministry has been actively involved in promoting its development.

The criticism directed at the 1989 advertising campaign indicates, however, that the

Ministry cannot simply continue with its established ways of presenting landscapes and expect them to work with new audiences. While adventure tourism also focuses on

British Columbia’s ‘Super Natural’ environment, it approaches the landscape from a different perspective. Adventure tourism presents itself as an alternative to mass tourism, and something of this alternative character must enter into presentations of postmodern tourist landscapes. Postmodern presentations must display a sensitivity to the issues and distinctions adventure tourists draw between themselves and mass tourists. The purpose of this chapter is to evaluate whether the problems that the

Ministry encountered with its faked photograph are also present in its textual presentations of tourist landscapes. The chapter considers presentations of both adventure and heritage tourism. In particular, it focuses on brochures promoting marine and wilderness expeditions, as well as guides to “Main Street”3 communities in British

Columbia and Alberta. These presentations are compared to both the Ministry’s mass and ‘postmodern’ presentations of landscape. The central objective of the chapter is to 349 determine if a unique postmodem rhetoric has evolved, and whether the Ministry has been able to adapt successfully to it. The chapter begins with an interpretation of mass presentations of tourist landscapes since 1945. This period is an extension and refinement of the previous period (1920 to 1945). It is one in which the remnants of aristocratic presentations are cast aside in favour of the short, informational, activity, and photograph-dominant texts of mass tourist advertising.

The Rhetoric of Mass Tourism

The results of the computer-based content analysis indicate that the rhetoric of mass tourist presentations of landscape changed significantly after 1945, but that most of these changes represented a continuation of trends established in the 1920s and 1930s (Table

7.1), In particular, the shift towards a more informational, personal, and activity-centred rhetoric continued. The scores of four out of the five information lists increase between these periods, and the scores of three out of the four embellishment lists decline,

Hyperbole significantly. The number of sentences per passage, word types, and numerical references show significant increases. It should also be noted that the average scores of three out of four embellished lists for the mass tourist sample are below the averages for the entire sample, and that the average scores for all informational lists are above their respective aggregate averages (Appendices B3 and B l). In fact, the mass tourist sample has the highest period averages for the Punctuation, Types, and Word

Length indices, and second highest averages for the other informational indices

(Sentence Length and Numerical frequency). Significant periodic differences (in expected directions) are also found in the Activity and View themes. The average mass

Activity score is the highest among the four periods and its View average the lowest. The mass tourist sample, moreover, has the highest average for the Security theme, although its frequency is not significantly different from the previous period. Changes in 350 Table 7.1

Rhetorical Comparison Early and Mass Presentations 1920-1990

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Early Mass Tourism Mass Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1920-1945) (1945-1990) corrected Word Lists (N=30) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 22.6 38.5 **35 Punctuation 29.6 31.5 0.4 Types 23.5 37.6 Word Length 31.1 29.9 0.3 Numbers 24.8 36.3 **2.6 Familiarity 34.1 26.9 1.6 Certainty 32.1 28.9 0.7 Qualification 30.0 31.4 0.4 Hyperbole 35.7 25.3 **2.3

Personal 24,1 37.0 **30 Solidarity 27.0 34.0 **2.5 Impersonal 32.7 28.4 1.0

View 36.2 24.8 **26 Investment 31.3 29.7 0.4 Activity 25.2 35.8 **2.4 Security 29.8 31.2 0.3 Authenticity 28.4 32.6 0.9 Discovery 28.1 32.9 1.1

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 351 the use of Personal and Impersonal modes of address also occur in expected directions.

The increase in the former is particularly dramatic, reflecting the emergence of an important quality of mass tourist rhetoric. The mass tourist sample does not, however, record the highest period average for this list (Appendix B2); that honour belongs to the postmodem period and its significance will be addressed in a later section. The statistically significant difference in the use of Solidarity pronouns between the early mass tourist and mass tourist samples can once again be disregarded as it was not an important mode in the overall mix (Appendix B2).

Results for the mass tourist sample were also compared to the aristocratic results

(Table 7.2). The differences here are even more dramatic. Seven of the nine style lists and indices show statistically significant results in the predicted directions. The magnitude of difference for the embeffishment lists is particularly remarkable. The difference in the Personal list scores is also significant as are three out of the four critical thematic lists (Investment, Activity, Security). All changes, furthermore, are in the predicted directions. There is no doubt that the mass and aristocratic rhetorics represent different ways of presenting landscapes. The rhetoric of the mass period is definitely less embellished and more informational, more personal, and more activity and industry oriented. The magnitude of these changes vis-a-vis the previous two periods also substantiates the interpretation that the years between 1920 and 1945 were a period of transition.

Individual changes and differences between individual samples were also examined. Table 7.3 compares the rhetoric of the British Columbia Government Travel

Bureau’s presentations of landscapes to the early mass presentations of the British

Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information. Table 7.4 compares the presentations of other tourist organizations across the same time periods. The results are comparatively 352 Table 7.2

Rhetorical Comparison of Aristocratic and Mass Tourism Presentations, 1900-1990

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Aristocratic Tourism Mass Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1900-1920) (1945-1990) corrected Word Lists (N=30) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 17.8 43.3 **57 Punctuation 28.9 32.1 0.7 Types 23.6 37.4 Word Length 28.0 33.1 1.1 Numbers 26.8 34.2 **17 Familiarity 42.9 14.2 **55 Certainty 35.7 25.3 **2.3 Qualification 36.7 24.4 **2.7 Hyperbole 39.2 21.8

Personal 24.3 36.7 **2.8 Solidarity 30.4 30.7 0.1 Impersonal 30.8 30.2 0.1

View 32.8 28.2 1.1 Investment 35.7 25.3 **2.3 Activity 21.4 39.6 Security 25.5 35.6 **2.2 Authenticity 27.3 33.7 1.4 Discovery 26.5 34.5

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 353 Table 7.3

Rhetorical Comparison of Early and Mass Presentations by the BPI and GTB, 1920-1945

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Bureau of Government Provincial Information Travel Bureau Z scores (1920-1945) (1945-1990) corrected Word Lists (Nt13) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 8.8 19,4 **34 Punctuation 12.6 16.1 1.1 Types 12.6 16.2 1.2 Word Length 14.5 14.5 0.0 Numbers 11.6 17.0 **J7 Familiarity 17.0 12.3 1.5 Certainty 15.7 13.5 0.7 Qualification 13.0 15.8 0.9 Hyperbole 15.3 13.8 0.5

Personal 9.5 18.9 **32 Solidarity 13.2 15.7 1.2 Impersonal 18.4 11.1 **2.4

View 18.2 11.3 **22 Investment 15.0 14.0 0.3 Activity 10.7 17.8 **2.3 Security 14.0 15.0 0.3 Authenticity 14.5 14.5 0.0 Discovery 14.3 14.7 0.1

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 354 Table 7.4

Rhetorical Comparison of other Early and Mass Tourism Presentations, 1920-1990

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Early Mass Tourism Mass Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1920-1945) (1945-1990) corrected Word Lists (N=17) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 14.6 18.6 1.2 Punctuation 17.9 14.9 0.9 Types 11.5 22.2 **3.2 Word Length 17.7 15.2 0.8 Numbers 13.6 19.8 **19 Familiarity 17.5 15.4 0.6 Certainty 17.2 15.7 0.5 Qualification 16.8 16.2 0.2 Hyperbole 20.7 11.7 **2.7

Personal 14.4 18.9 1.4 Solidarity 14.5 18.8 **2.2 Impersonal 15.5 17.6 0.6

View 18.7 14.0 1.4 Investment 17.2 15.7 0.5 Activity 13.4 20.0 Security 16.1 16.9 0.2 Authenticity 14.5 18.8 1.3 Discovery 14.4 18.9 1.4

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 355 similar. The only major differences are in the modes of address and in the View theme.

The Government Travel Bureau sample registers a significant increase in the use of personal pronouns, and a corresponding significant decrease in the use of impersonal modes of address. It also registers a significant decrease for the View list. Changes in the use of these variables between the contextual samples are insignificant, although the decrease in scores for both the Personal and View lists are relatively large. It should be noted, however, that these differences are more a product of discrepancies between the early mass tourist samples than between their mass tourist counterparts. As Table 7.5 shows, there are few significant differences between the mass tourist samples. The only notable differences are found amongst the informational style indices, with the

Government Travel Bureau sample registering significantly higher scores for these variables. This difference does not appear, however, to be co-ordinated with any other patterns of rhetoric. The comparative absence of major differences between the two mass samples is important considering their different temporal emphases. The

Government Travel Bureau sample is composed of texts published prior to the 1980s while the tourist sample emphasizes publications after that date. The results of the computer-based content analysis suggest that the rhetoric of mass presentations of tourist landscapes did not change dramatically in response to the emergence of postmodern tourism. It should be noted, however, that the averages for the Authenticity and

Discovery lists—themes associated with postmodern tourism—are larger for the later mass tourist sample.

The Dick and Jane Style of Mass Tourism

The computer-based content analysis suggests that the trend towards a more informational style continued after 1945. This trend is particularly noticeable when different editions of the same brochure are placed side by side. Figure 7,1 shows 356 Table 7.5

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass Tourism Presentations 1945-1990

Maim-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Government Tourism Z scores Travel Bureau Presentations corrected Word Lists (N=15) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 18.7 12.3 *2.0 Punctuation 20.8 10.2 *33 Types 14.1 16.9 0.9 WordLength 19.5 11.5 *2.5 Numbers 16.5 14.5 0.6 Familiarity 14.5 16.5 0.6 Certainty 16.9 14.1 0.9 Qualification 16.9 14.1 0.9 Hyperbole 19.1 11.9 *2.2

Personal 13.5 17.5 1.3 Solidarity 15.2 12.8 0,2 Impersonal 12.7 18.3 1.8

View 15.0 16.0 0.3 Investment 16.6 14.4 0.7 Activity 13.2 17.8 1.4 Security 15.9 15.1 0.3 Authenticity 14.0 17.0 1.0 Discovery 13.8 17.2 1.1

* = significant

Critical Value = 1.96 at p = .05, two tailed test U’

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1947. The revised edition exhibits several changes. The ellipses have been eliminated, as have most of the aesthetic embellishment and “old-world” comparisons. These alterations result in a much cleaner and abridged text. The latter, in fact, reads like an executive summary of the former. The reduction of the earlier version’s cumbersome attempt to define British Columbia’s unique qualities to a single slogan (the “vacation land that has everything”) is a particularly good example. There are several other differences between the text& The latter, for instance, drops not only the embellishment, but also the anthropomorphic imagery. In its place, the author explicitly emphasizes the vacation opportunities of the province. Instead of describing how the landscape looks, the audience is told about “sightseeing”, “scenic excursions”, and “good fishing”. In fact, references to the tourist industry—transportation, accommodation, facilities, and regulations—now dominate secondary structures. The reader is told, for example, that

“The parliament buildings look over the inner harbour in which, incidentally, ferries from the mainland dock”, and that “The Cariboo is a dry, high country with few fences.

Ranch guests may roam at will” (emphasis added).

Figure 7.2 also presents an original (published in 1933) and updated (published in 1954) version of the same text, in this case British Columbia, Canada. This text focuses on immigration and investment. Nevertheless, similar stylistic changes are apparent. In the later edition, qualification has been cut, evaluations trimmed, and political connotation exorcised. The former is especially noticeable. In numerous places, the authors have simply dropped a secondary embellished phrase from a sentence, leaving its primary structure untouched. In other places the authors have followed the example of the revised Alluring British Columbia brochure in replacing as to few as the the last by Living such the highest with alike, the in the appreciated rate, of labour within status amenities geographical globe. recognized abundance. and has, generally and the is, social of industrial more version development the potential still limitless. unprecedented prodigal it altitude its in the an corner and once the at 1954 for agriculturalist, which important every with present To-day, apparently an ideal are is delightful, from still it varies developing are world. COLUMBIA, efficiency. is industrialist, attained but playground people materials climate vast Canada Styles BRITISH the decades, opportunities economic investor, Province industrial Raw The location, attract conditions 7.2 added) is Figure Columbia, for it an (emphasis its aspect the Contrasting at proper ideal than fact, a attractive and Province, British In social Columbia. and and natural the rather directly industrial most the of is a cool, years. stronger the efficiency. British with and of and abundance, foresight and offers wealth world than fastidious. recent it playground and in suave both, country industrial most version is delightful, unfamiliar a is vast prodigal the immense it a vision in are versatility part its of highest 1933 reconstructed unexploited, person, attract enormously the most wider with anywhere possibilities. present this suggests to Actually of is its the of as and are conditions largely possessed of for young, there still such centre. developed AVERAGE if market those Columbia Living materials to climate been THE development TO Vigorously has characteristics industrial resources doubtful appreciation British the Raw The amenities doors. greatest field C’ on rather water the upon in Since its hours on peaks. and of emerges or Canada, of of steady of few sea, scene East. scale a picture courses rest been chain the traveller the a only of travelled the has the their by follows with majestic with it inverted with the widely an reaches scene thread lot depths, link on version days, distance as its to is most back wide cool in development dim vessels the 1954 the several give delight the their railway scenery threw to in a in Even upon as with of Splendid Columbia’s occupies still miles colony closed varied. sea. shores. for the and panorama. exclaim Columbia’s promise British vistas eventful. voyage open the unexpectedly 1871 calm on then, than In all visitors Plunged infinitely long endless so wooded The British the (continued) 7.2 to on by that little their upon inverted Figure in its hours peaks. and proposed emerges the or the actual an very of of the accepted grand of construction few thread end no sea, scene scale a to British is to back the Colony knew part chain were the traveller a a only end 1871 of travelled the vessels give there the East hostile by follows in majestic to terms with the superlatively from as embodied which the and which widely reaches so scene 1870 depths, and to on Splendid version irrevocably still days, is strongly distance as in is most which coast, wide cool and and was without dim to the 1933 the shores, several delight pageant scenery absurd. the their and calm a scenery circumstances, finally in in be coast is the Even However, so upon with railway, government a wooded those Canad& and from occupies miles would of closed water in of became aloof Columbia the varied. sea, for on panorama. exclaim Passage” of Columbia’s vistas railway voyage Dominion open unexpectedly a remain British “Inside to the of of suggestion Naturally, Columbia all visitors Dominion Plunged infinitely long endless exaggerate British The the courses picture parallel. 362 embellished aristocratic words and phrases with less colourful and more factual ones,

For instance “suave and cool” has become “varies with the altitude and geographical location”, and “attract the most fastidious” has become “attract people from every corner of the globe”. Strangely, the ‘scenic’ tourist passages were unchanged. Perhaps the placement of these passages on the last page reflected the editorial attention they received.

The direction of these stylistic changes continued in the 1960s and 1970s. Texts became leaner and more colloquial, and the use of hyphenation (“summer-operated”,

“snow-enthroned”, “sun-filled”), contractions, sentence fragments, personal pronouns, imperative and action verbs, and proper nouns increased. In combination, these changes resulted in simpler and more conversational texts that tell the tourist what to do rather than what to see. Action, not reflection, dominates presentations of mass tourist landscapes. The broad character of these changes is evident when sentences are broken into their structural components. In aristocratic texts, the primary structure was, ironically, of secondary importance. Primary structures were often embedded in, or placed at the end of a passage, and functioned as a minimal framework upon which embellished descriptions were erected. In contrast, primary structures dominate in mass tourist presentations. In the following excerpts, taken from the Department of Travel

Industry’s Four-Season Vacationland brochure (1969 edition), primary structures (in italics) are almost invariably placed at the heads of sentences, and account for the majority of the text.

Fishfor salmon just off-shore in Victoria. Enjoy that “special night out” in dining elegance. Visit the stately Tudor-type homes with their Old World Charm.

The excitement and adventure of the Old West are still very much in evidence in the historic Cariboo country. Mile Houses along the route mark the stopping places used byforiner day stagecoaches. All through this 35,000 square miles of land you ‘llfind a variety ofgood accommodation from modern lodges and 363 motels to log cabins. And the Cariboo has its own very special brand of hospitality.

Mass tourist texts were not meant to be read in the sense that aristocratic texts were.

Their primary function was to provide a list of things to do and places to see, and to do so in the most economical way possible. One gets the impression that the authors expected their audience only to skim the text, picking out key words here and there, but never engaging it. Obviously the rhetoric of mass tourist presentations has lost much of its social significance in the sense that it is no longer associated even remotely with a formal aesthetic or a well-defmed social class. Mass rhetoric was not meant to be consumed. It tried to present landscapes in neutral tones in order to address as large an audience as possible.

The Rhetorical Qualities of Mass Presentations

The factors that contributed to the character of mass tourist rhetoric are multiple and complex. The following pages are not offered as an exhaustive analysis. Rather I want to emphasize the main qualities of mass tourist rhetoric, and in the process highlight a few of the thematic and contextual factors that contributed to its evolution. The most important qualities of mass presentations are the dominance of visual imagery, the emphasis on physical rather than ‘mental’ recreation, the preference for simple, non- embellished phrasing, and the personalization of texts (as an attempt to overcome the alienation of audience and author).

Visual

One of the most obvious differences between aristocratic and mass tourist brochures is the relative importance of text and visual images. The former dominated in aristocratic texts, while the opposite is true of mass presentations of landscape. In most of the 364

Government Travel Bureau’s and the Department of Travel Industry’s publications, the text is subservient to photographs. The year in which photographs supplanted textual descriptions can perhaps be assigned to 1959, the year in which the first issue of Beautiful British Columbia magazine was published. Inexpensive, and featuring full page, colour photographs, Beautiful British Columbia proved immensely popular, a kind of government run National Geographic. In fact, despite its recent sale to private interests, it could be argued that the magazine was the most successful promotional vehicle ever developed by the provincial government. Published quarterly, every issue presented a number of photographic essays on localities, attractions, and occasionally personalities from around the province. Photographs were accompanied by short texts, but the two were not intimately related. Like the Bureau’s regular brochures, the text in

Beautiful British Columbia focused on the general qualities and activities to be found in the featured area. The text did not, however, try to elaborate on or to embellish the depicted scenery. Photographs stood on their own—their aesthetic value presumably obvious. The following passages accompany photographs published in Volume two in 1960. Note how the text draws attention to photographic scenes but little more:

As the pictures on these pages show—a camera is a must in the Bella Coola area. One of the most talked about scenic spots in this area is May Lake, located on the picturesque Burnt Bridge Trail which leads away from the main road in the Bella Coola valley. This area is one of the most ruggedly beautiful in the world where every vista is a perfect camera shot.

Your first drive through British Columbia will convince you that here is a place to enjoy carefree, lazy days to the fullest. The clear, clean water and skies, the comfortable stopping places along the way, whether campsite or motel, provide rest and relaxation as well as some of the most breath-taking scenery in the world. 365 The town of Osoyoos on the shores of Osoyoos Lake, lies just north of the Canada-U.S. border. The highway leads north from Osoyoos to Oliver, Okanagan Falls and Penticton. Driving north from Penticton, along the shores of Lake Okanagan the traveller has a choice of two vistas—the apricot and peach orchards on his left—and the breathtaldng scenery of the lake to his right.

The Bureau initially drew photographs for Beaunful British Columbia from its own archives while texts were composed by anonymous staff members. The magazine later began to accept submitted materials and eventually this became its standard format. This change in policy altered the relationship between texts and photographs. Photographs still dominated but were better integrated with the text, Texts recounted travels, historical events, outdoor programs, and various facets of the province’s culture depicted in the photographs. Texts, however, seldom described the depicted scenery in intimate detail,

The startling clarity and colour of the magazine’s photographs apparently pre-empt textual description. The photographs are sufficient by themselves.

The preference and reliance on the photographic presentation of landscape in mass tourist literature is part and parcel of a larger cultural trend in western societies.

Visual media (television, film, and photography) have come to dominate the way we “see” and interact with our environments (Meyorwitz 1985). This is a topic of immense importance and one that deserves greater attention than my self-imposed limitations have permitted. It is difficult to suggest at this point how visual presentations compare to the textual, or to determine more precisely if there are any correlations in their rhetorics.

Nevertheless, one might speculate that the trend to the photographic presentation of landscape has at the same time set the stage for a resurgence of the textual. Although no attempt was made to measure the proportion of text to photographic images in mass and postmodern presentations of landscape, it does appear that text is more important in the latter. 366

Action

The emphasis on activities rather than the aesthetic appreciation of landscape has had a significant impact on both the content and rhetorical style of mass presentations of tourist landscapes. Specifically I would like to argue that there is a direct link between the emphasis on activities and the syntax of mass tourism rhetoric. As previously noted, aristocratic prose was characterized by a periodic structure. The periodic style features passive constructions, secondary structures, and qualification, and is consequently well suited to complex and reflective description. Mass rhetoric in comparison exemplifies a running style of (relatively) short, active, verb centred clauses. The running style

Lanham (1983: 54), suggests focuses on the present—it mimics the mind’s “real-time interaction with the world”. It moves quickly from event to event, “first tripping over one argument then bumping into another, unbalanced and unsymmetrical”. The running style is thus a more everyday and conversational style than the periodic with its stress balance, cause and effect, logic, and detail.5 What I want to argue is that the “natural” syntax of the running style reinforces the activity orientation of mass tourist brochures.

In other words, the running style is used to mimic the action it describes—it textually suggests the way a landscape should be experienced. The Ministry of Tourism’s 1989

Travel Guide provides a good example of this effect (see Figure 7.3). The language of this guide is simple and active. Primary structures (italicized) and action verbs

(underlined) predominate. Sentences are short, adjectives few and simple, contractions

(including spelling mistakes) frequent. In other words, the text of the Travel Guide is a classic example of the running style. Together these strategies create a sense of motion and excitement. The reader is urged from one site, experience, and attraction to another.

The tourist is told to walk, fmd, browse, taste, hop, and don’t miss Gastown,

Chinatown, Robson Street, Granville Island, B.C. Place, and English Bay. Rhetorical 367

Figure 7.3

British Columbia Ministry of Tourism

1989 Travel Guide (emphasis added)

Vancouver—sophisticated city in a spectacular setting.

When you come into the city by sea, Cazza&z Place strikes the eye as an amazing

sculpture. It creates a dynamic transition between the magnificent natural setting and the

glass towers of downtown. You get the same eye-pleasing perspective from the seawalk around the lush forest of Stanley Park.

Also take a walk through picturesque historic Gastown. You ‘iifind that special

something in one of the boutiques, antique shops or galleries. Browse your way over to

Chinatown, it’s like a visit to another country. Taste the mysteries from dim sum trolleys. Mmm-delicious!

International Robson Street offers you a world ofchoice cuisines. Or hop on a 5-

minuteferry to the Granville Island Market for a taste of the local harvest. Granville Island’s a greatplacefor a succulent seafood dinner.

Then there’s thatplay everyone’s been talking about. Or a big game or concert at B.C. Place Stadium.

And don’t miss one of the greatestfree shows on earth: English Bay shimmering in the fiery pastels of sunset. 368 flow acts as a metaphor for experience of Vancouver. Its temporal construction

(morning, noon, and night), furthermore, suggests a day in the life of the harried mass tourist, The city’s primary attractions are consumed in rapid order. At no time is the tourist invited to pause, and to compare the landscape to other places or aesthetic standards.

Clarity-Brevity-Sincerity

The changes identified in the rhetoric of mass tourist presentations of landscape are associated with a larger trend in advertising towards a plainer and simpler use of language. During the first decade of this century there was a movement to promote ‘truth in advertising’. This movement involved the establishment of codes of ethics and societies that regulated the industry (Ewen 1976). Among other things, societies promoted less embellished prose in an attempt to shed the industry’s ‘booster’ image.

By removing hyperbole and embellishment, advertisers felt they were improving their product. Simpler prose was supposedly less deceptive, and thus less likely to turn audiences off. Even today, government handbooks on the composition of investment and tourist brochures strongly suggest that embellishment should be avoided. Authors are advised to present essential information clearly and succinctly and leave it at that.

The attempt to re-work the rhetoric of advertising took place, moreover, against a larger context of changing ideas about the nature and use of language. Lanham argues that a

“Clarity-Brevity-Sincerity” formula became the standard by which the proper use of language is now judged. Language, many argue, should be as transparent as possible.

It should not interfere with the “representation” of reality. It should perform its function and get out of the way. Tourism advertising could never live up to this scientific ideal

(and many now question whether science can or ever did). However, the people writing tourist brochures must have been influenced by its standards through their education and 369 in their participation in society. As the ideal of language changed, tourist advertising was swept along with it.

The development of a simple, honest, informational style was also correlated with the character of the audience this literature tried to address. Mass tourism advertising must, like a newspaper, address the lowest common denominator of its audience. It cannot afford to be too intellectual, or too political, or make too many presumptions about its audience’s beliefs and values. Tourism advertising in other words must steer a moderate course. It must appeal to broadly accepted motivations. As such its rhetoric must be as neutral as possible. Unlike aristocratic prose, it does not want to segregate its market or associate specific social and class markers with its descriptions.

The relative absence of embeffishment does not mean, however, that mass tourist presentations are more accurate or less deceptive than than aristocratic ones. Hart (1990) points out that the lack of qualification in the running style limits the reader’s ability to reflect on the text and to inject their own interpretations. In its hurry, the running style suppresses information and interpretation. The Ministry of Tourism’s presentations of landscape, in addition, lack detail, and characteristically fail to order phenomena or to specify casual relations. They do not hold up a standard against which the landscape presented can be judged. Ministry presentations zip along from attraction to attraction, from place to place without documenting how they concretely fulfil the tourist’s motivations. With few orienting devices (qualification, embellishment, secondary structures), the Ministry’s presentations essentially leave it up to the reader to determine the motivation associated with a landscape. In the previous example, for instance, the tourist’s ‘real’ motivation for visiting Vancouver is not mentioned at all, despite its profusion of suggestions for things to see and do. 370

Personalizing Presentations

The results of the computer content analysis indicate that mass tourist presentations are the most personal in terms of their mode of address. This result struck me as paradoxical since personal pronouns assume a degree of familiarity, and yet the relationship between authors and mass audiences is commonly thought to be distant. Personal pronouns provide, however, a relatively easy way of reducing this distance, Their use in the

Government Travel Bureau’s and the Ministry of Tourism’s mass tourist presentations is an attempt to forge textually a link between the alienated author and audience. Readers are explicitly asked to associate or project themselves into the landscape. In comparison, aristocratic presentations could afford to use impersonal modes of address. Their audiences were relatively well defmed, if only in the social imaginations of their authors.

Aristocratic authors could, as a consequence, rely on, or resort to, stylistic and thematic variables to define their audiences. Mass tourist authors, for the reasons described above, could not afford these subtleties. They had to compensate for their simpler and more neutral style through greater use of personal modes of address.

Summary

Mass presentations of tourist landscapes are the most difficult to analyze because they are, from a contemporary perspective, the most representative of our ‘average’ reading experience. Many of the assumptions and biases that are at play in these guides are not apparent because we are so inundated with them that they are perceived as a normal discourse, as the only way of presenting a landscape. It is also difficult to analyze these presentations, furthermore, without resorting to clichés about their superficiality. To do so, as Cohen (1993) suggests, only creates a “stereotype of a stereotype”. Nevertheless, the ‘practical’ reaction against mass tourism, and its presentations of landscapes, is in 371 theory the basis for the development of postmodem tourism. Postmodern presentations should consciously diverge from the style, mode of address, and themes of mass tourism. In particular, I expect postmodem presentations to exhibit a more embellished style, more frequent use of solidarity pronouns, and an emphasis on cultural and ecological themes (Authenticity and Discovery). In general, postmodem presentations should encourage a more reflective appreciation of landscape that is consciously shared by a community of ‘travellers’. The next section considers whether this rhetoric has evolved, and whether the state has adapted its mass conventions to the new standards.

My expectation is that the state’s traditional association with mass tourism wifi limit its ability to adapt its rhetoric. The Ministry of Tourism may, for instance, highlight code words associated with postmodern tourism in its advertising, but fail, I believe, to transform its style and footing to suit the new audience.

Postmodern Presentations: A New Rhetoric?

Data from the computerized language analysis presents a mixed picture with respect to my hypothesis about the development of a postmodem style. On the one hand, the themes defined by the Authenticity and Discovery word lists show statistically significant increases (Table 7.6). In fact, the postmodern period exhibits the highest averages for both themes (Appendices Bi and B2). In line with these increases is a very significant rise in the score for the Solidarity word list, indicating, as predicted, that authors of postmodem presentations try to establish a more equal footing between themselves and their audience. Although this mode is not the most common form of address in postmodern presentations (Personal is), the average Solidarity score is ten times that of the mass tourist sample. The postmodern sample, moreover, is the only one to exhibit significant use of this mode. On the other hand, other changes are not as great, and in fact are even the opposite of expected. For instance, the use of personal pronouns 372 Table 7.6

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations 1945-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Mass Tourism Postmodern Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N30) (N=60) for ties

Sentences 43.1 46.7 0.6 Punctuation 46.2 45.1 0.2 Types 51.0 42.7 1.4 Word Length 47.3 44.6 0.5 Numbers 42.7 46.9 0.7 Familiarity 53.4 41.6 Certainty 50.7 42.9 1.3 Qualification 56.0 40.2 **2.7 Hyperbole 47.8 44.3 0.6

Personal 42.0 47.2 0.9 Solidarity 30.1 53.2 **4.2 Impersonal 49.6 43.4 1.1

View 46.1 45.2 0.5 Investment 51.4 42.6 1.5 Activity 49.2 43.7 0.9 Security 51.5 42.5 1.5 Authenticity 36.8 49.9 **2.3 Discovery 37.5 49.5

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 373 increases in postmodem texts while the Activity, Security, and Informational word lists and indices do not significantly change. Embellishment scores actually decrease with

Qualification and Familiarity scores recording statistically significant declines, The average scores for all Embellishment lists, moreover, are below aggregate averages and all Information averages are above, although only marginally (Appendices Bi and B2).

The mixed pattern of the postmodern scores is in part a product of variation within the sample. Significant differences between the three postmodem samples are found in all modes of address, style lists and indices, and for three of the thematic lists

(Table 7.7). Most of this variation reflects the extreme scores of the heritage tour guides.

This sample has the lowest scores for all modes of address, for the Activity, Discovery, and View themes, and for the Embellishment lists of Certainty, Qualification, and

Hyperbole (Appendix B3). It also has the highest score for Numerical frequency, and next to the highest for Word Length. These results characterize an extremely formal, informational style, one which emphasizes facts to the exclusion of the audience.

Heritage guides present few textual clues to orient the reader. In fact, heritage guides rarely address the audience. These guides, however, do record the highest average for the Authenticity theme. As such, heritage guides represent a distinct rhetoric. They share little in common with either the Adventure or the Ministry’s postmodem samples.

A comparison of adventure and heritage texts shows significant differences between fifteen of the eighteen lists and indices (Table 7.8), and a Ministry and Heritage comparison shows sixteen of eighteen significantly different (Table 7.9). Significant differences between the Heritage and Mass tourist samples are not as numerous (Table

7.10). The two literatures, nevertheless, show enough significant differences to conclude that they represent distinct ways of presenting the landscape. Heritage 374 Table 7.7 Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations Ministry, Adventure, and Heritage, 1980-1992 Kruskal-WalIis Test Mean Rank Values

Ministry Adventure Heritage of Tourism Tourism Guides Word Lists (N=15) (N=30) (N=15) H

Sentences 20.0 30.3 41.4 *11.3 Punctuation 38.6 30.8 21.9 *6.9 Types 42.1 30.7 18.4 *13.8 Word Length 25.2 28.2 40.5 *6.8 Numbers 23.5 23.9 50.8 *271 Familiarity 24.6 27.1 43.2 *10.8 Certainty 35.9 37.7 10.8 *26.0 Qualification 38.1 32.5 19.0 *98 Hyperbole 41.5 32.0 16.6 *15.9

Personal 33.2 38.2 12.3 *22.7 Solidarity 25.2 42.4 12.0 *33.6 Impersonal 40.5 33.6 14.4 *18.8

View 31.7 34.4 21.4 6.01 Investment 28.5 26.5 40.6 *71 Activity 41.3 34.3 12.1 *23.9 Security 37.6 26.4 31.7 4.3 Authenticity 23.9 30.9 36.3 3.9 Discovery 33.0 39.6 9.8 *29.9

H values corrected for ties * = significant

Critical Value = 5.99 at p = .05

1H statistic is actually 5.97 and is thus not significant. 375 Table 7.8

Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations by Adventure and Heritage Organizations

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Adventure Tourism Heritage Z scores Presentations Guides corrected Word Lists (N=30) (N= 15) for ties

Sentences 20.2 28.7 *2.1 Punctuation 25.4 18.3 1.7 Types 26.4 16.3 *2.4 Word Length 20.2 28.7 *2.0 Numbers 16.2 36.5 *49 Familiarity 19.2 30.6 *2.7 Certainty 29.6 9.7 *4.8 Qualification 26.5 16.1 *2.5 Hyperbole 27.3 14.5 *3.1

Personal 29.4 10.1 *47 Solidarity 30.4 8.1 *5•5 Impersonal 28.0 13.1 *3.6

View 26.3 16.5 *2.4 Investment 19.7 29.6 *2.4 Activity 28.8 11.3 *4.2 Security 21.7 25.5 0.9 Authenticity 21.7 25.5 0.9 Discovery 30.0 9.0 *5.1

* = significant

Critical Value = 1.96 at p = .05, two tailed test 376 Table 7.9

Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations by the Ministry and Heritage Organizations, 1980-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Ministry of Heritage Z scores Tourism Guides coffected Word Lists (N=15) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 10.3 20.7 *3.2 Punctuation 19.4 11.6 *2.4 Types 20.9 10.1 *33 WordLength 11.2 19.8 *2.7 Numbers 8.7 22.3 *4.2 Familiarity 10.4 20.6 *3.2 Certainty 22.0 9.0 *4.1 Qualification 20.1 10.9 *2.9 Hyperbole 20.9 10.1 *3•4

Personal 20.8 10.2 *34 Solidarity 19.1 11.9 *2.8 Impersonal 21.7 9.3 *3•9

View 18.1 12.9 1.7 Investment 11.9 19.1 *2.3 Activity 22.2 8.8 *4.2 Security 16.8 14.2 0.8 Authenticity 12.2 18.8 *2.0 Discovery 22.2 8.8 *4.2

* = significant

Critical Value = 1.96 at p = .05, two tailed test 377 Table 7.10

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by Tourist and Heritage Organizations, 1945-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Tourist Organizations Heritage Presentations Presentations Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N=30) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 19.9 29.3 **2.3 Punctuation 25.6 17.8 **19 Types 27.2 14.5 Word Length 21.1 26.7 1.3 Numbers 16.5 36.0 **47 Familiarity 22.1 24.9 0.7 Certainty 29.5 10.0 **4•7 Qualification 28.2 12.6 **38 Hyperbole 27.3 14.4

Personal 27.2 14.6 **31 Solidarity 24.5 20.0 1.5 Impersonal 28.2 12.7 **3.8

View 25.8 17.4 **2.2 Investment 24.1 20.8 0.8 Activity 29.0 11.0 Security 24.1 20.8 0.8 Authenticity 19.1 30.7 **2.8 Discovery 28.0 12.9 **37

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 378 presentations are definitely less direct, embellished, and activity centred than mass presentations of tourist landscapes.

While differences between the heritage and the other postmodem samples is greater than expected, the opposite is true of differences between the Adventure and Ministry samples. The primary difference between the two is in the use of solidarity pronouns (Table 7.11). The Adventure sample, as expected, exhibits the greatest use of this mode of address. While the average frequency of solidarity pronouns in all of the texts sampled is 2.4 per 500 word passage, the average for the Adventure sample is 8.4.

The average for the Ministry sample is only 3.9. Still the Ministry’s average is the second highest. Significant differences between the Ministry and Adventure samples are also apparent for the Word Types index and for the Hyperbole and Security lists. The relative absence of hyperbole and references to the infrastructure of the tourism industry

(accommodation, meals, transportation) is thought to be one of the distinguishing characteristics of postmodern presentations. These differences, however, do not appear to be correlated with broad stylistic differences between the samples.

The absence of a consistent pattern of differences between the Ministry and

Adventure samples suggests two possibilities: the Ministry has successfully re-worked its rhetoric to match those of postmodern presentations, or postmodern presentations do not differ significantly from those of mass tourism (or have been recently altered to a mass style through the Ministry’s attempts to create more ‘professional’ marketing in the sector, see Chapter 5). To test these possibilities, both samples are compared to the mass tourist samples. Table 7.12 compares the Adventure sample to the mass tourist period sample. The results suggest that adventure tourist guides do represent a new way of presenting landscapes. In addition to significant differences in three out of four key thematic lists (Authenticity, Discovery and Security), the Adventure sample also shows 379 Table 7.11

Rhetorical Comparison of Postmodern Presentations by the Ministry and Adventure Organizations, 1980-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Ministry of Adventure Z scores Tourism Tourism corrected Word Lists (N=15) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 17.7 25.7 1.9 Punctuation 27.2 20.9 1.5 Types 29.3 19.9 *2.3 Word Length 22.0 23.5 0.3 Numbers 22.8 23.1 0.1 Familiarity 22.3 23.4 0.3 Certainty 21.9 23.6 0.4 Qualification 26.0 21.5 1.1 Hyperbole 28.6 20.2 *2.0

Personal 20.4 24.3 0.9 Solidarity 14.1 27.5 *3.2 Impersonal 26.8 21.1 1.4

View 21.7 23.7 0.5 Investment 24.5 22.2 0.6 Activity 27.0 21.0 1.5 Security 28.8 20.1 *2.1 Authenticity 19.7 24.7 1.2 Discovery 18.8 25.1 1.5

* = significant

Critical Value = 1.96 at p = .05, two tailed test 380 Table 7.12

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by All Mass and Adventure Organizations, 1945-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Mass Tourism Adventure Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N=30) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 29.5 31.5 0.4 Punctuation 30.6 30.4 0.0 Types 33.3 27.7 1.2 Word Length 32.3 28.7 0.8 Numbers 32.8 28.2 1.0 Famiiiarity 35.6 25.4 **2.3 Certainty 29.2 31.8 0.6 Qualification 35.3 25.7 **21 Hyperbole 31.2 30.0 0.3

Personal 24.7 36.3 **2.6 Solidarity 16.1 44.9 **6.6 Impersonal 31.1 29.9 0.3

View 28.5 32.6 0.9 Investment 34.6 26.4 **19 Activity 30.4 30.6 0.1 Security 35.2 25.8 Authenticity 26.2 34.8 * *1.9 Discovery 20.5 40.5

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 381 important or consistent differences in the modes of address and style variables.

Adventure texts exhibit significantly greater use of solidarity and personal pronouns, and appear to be both less embellished and less oriented toward information. I will try to explain this paradox subsequently. Almost identical results are achieved when the

Adventure sample is compared only to the Government Travel Bureau sample (Table

7.13). Both Table 7.12 and Table 7.13 show a statistically significant decline in the use of Qualification terms in Adventure texts. This result fits with the overall fmdings for this list (Table 7.6), but goes against expectations. It was predicted that Adventure texts would feature a more periodic style in order to distinguish themselves from the running style of mass presentations, and in the process promote a more reflective appreciation of the landscape. Also against expectations is the significant increase in the personal list score. Adventure texts score the highest average use of personal pronouns, nearly a full standard deviation greater than the aggregate average (Appendices B3 and B1). The results are less dramatic when the Adventure sample is compared to the contemporary mass tourist sample (Table 7.14). Significant differences in the Discovery, Security, and

Solidarity lists appear once again, yet the differences in the Personal and Qualification scores are no longer significant. This result appears to confirm the earlier observation that rhetorical style is not a distinguishing characteristic of postmodern tourism.

Overall, the Adventure-mass tourist comparisons indicate that the two literatures are different yet related. On the one hand, they clearly emphasize different themes, and display a widely divergent use of solidarity pronouns. On the other hand, Adventure texts appear to borrow the stylistic conventions, personal pronouns, and activity themes of mass tourist presentations of landscapes. One explanation for these results is that the rhetoric of postmodern tourism is in a transitional phase, that it both plays against, and borrows from established conventions as mass tourist presentations of landscape did in 382 Table 7.13

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by the GTB and Adventure Organizations, 1980-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Government Adventure Tourism Z scores Travel Bureau Presentations corrected Word Lists (N=15) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 25.4 21.8 0.9 Punctuation 28.4 20,3 **20 Types 23.8 22.6 0.3 WordLength 28.3 20.3 Numbers 26.6 21.2 1.3 Familiarity 26.0 21.5 1.1 Certainty 22.9 23.0 0.0 Qualification 28.4 20.3 **19 Hyperbole 26.7 21.1 1.3

Personal 15.1 26.9 **28 Solidarity 8.3 30.3 **5,3 Impersonal 20.4 24.3 1.0

View 20.5 24.1 0.8 Investment 28.6 20.2 **20 Activity 20.1 24.5 1.1 Security 27.7 20.6 **1.7 Authenticity 17.2 25.9 Discovery 12.9 28.0 **3.6

* * significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 383 Table 7.14

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by Tourist and Adventure Organizations

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Tourist Organization Adventure Tourism Presentations Presentations Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N=15) (N=30) for ties

Sentences 18.6 25.2 1.6 Punctuation 17.8 25.6 **19 Types 27.7 20.7 **1.7 Word Length 21.3 23.9 0 Numbers 24.1 22.5 0.4 Familiarity 30.2 19.4 **2.6 Certainty 20.5 24.3 0.9 Qualification 27.2 20.9 1.5 Hyperbole 20.6 24.2 0.9

Personal 19.3 24.9 1.3 Solidarity 8.8 30.1 **5.2 Impersonal 20.6 24.2 0.9

View 21.1 23.9 0.7 Investment 25.7 21.7 1.0 Activity 25.7 21.7 1.0 Security 27.7 20.7 **1.7 Authenticity 20.2 24.4 1.0 Discovery 13.1 28.0 **3.6

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 384 the 1920s and 1930s. A better explanation, and one I will argue in greater detail shortly, is that there is a spectrum of adventure styles, a spectrum that ranges from the ‘soft’ rhetoric of mass tourist inspired presentations, to the purposefully distinct, and often antagonist and ‘embellished’, ‘hard’ rhetoric of adventure presentations of landscapes.

if postmodern tourism is a distinct or emerging style, it remains to be determined if the government has recognized it and attempted to adapt its own presentations. Table

7.15 compares selections from the Ministry’s adventure and heritage guides to the mass tourist samples. Like the equivalent Adventure comparisons, the Ministry’s publications show significant increases for the Discovery, Solidarity, and Familiarity lists, as well as a large but not significant increase for the Personal list. There are, nevertheless, several results that diverge from the Adventure-mass tourist comparisons. Specifically the Ministry’s publications exhibit no change in the frequency of the Security and

Authenticity scores, and a significant increase in the Hyperbole score in comparison to mass presentations. Table 7.16 compares the Ministry’s publications to those of its predecessor, the Government Travel Bureau. In this case, almost half of the lists and indices show significant differences, and most again occur in the same direction as those in the Adventure-Government Travel Bureau comparison. The most notable differences between the Government Travel Bureau and Ministry samples are significant increases in all modes of address. It appears that an increase in the use of Solidarity pronouns tends to be accompanied with increases in the other modes—all working to create a more direct and involved presentation, and thus compensating for the decline of style as a means of framing the tourist. While the Ministry’s recent publications do not show significant changes in the use of Security and Authenticity words, they collectively register a significant increase for the Activity theme (whereas the Mass-Adventure comparison exhibits a decline for this list). Results for a Ministry-contemporary mass tourist 385 Table 7.15

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by All Mass Organizations and the Ministry, 1945-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Mass Tourism Ministry of Presentations Tourism Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N=30) (N= 15) for ties

Sentences 24.8 19.5 1.3 Punctuation 21.0 27.0 1.4 Types 21.5 25.9 1.1 Word Length 24.9 19.2 1.4 Numbers 24.4 20.3 1.0 Familiarity 26.7 15.6 **2.7 Certainty 22.9 23.1 0.0 Qualification 23.6 21.9 0.4 Hyperbole 20.4 28.2

Personal 21.1 26.8 1.4 Solidarity 20.5 27.9 **2.1 Impersonal 21.4 26.3 1.2

View 22.8 23.4 0.1 Investment 25.4 18.3 **17 Activity 20.8 27.4 1.6 Security 23.1 22.7 0.1 Authenticity 22.4 24.2 0.4 Discovery 20.0 29.1

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 386 Table 7.16

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmodern Presentations by the GTB and Ministry of Tourism, 1945-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Government Ministry of Travel Bureau Tourism Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N=15) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 18.6 12.4 **19 Punctuation 15.6 15.4 0.1 Types 13.6 17.4 1.2 WordLength 19.2 11.8 **2.3 Numbers 17.7 13.3 1.4 Familiarity 17.9 13.1 1.5 Certainty 16.1 14.9 0.4 Qualification 16.5 14.5 0.6 Hyperbole 14.3 16.7 0.8

Personal 12.6 18.4 **18 Solidarity 12.9 18.1 Impersonal 12.3 18.7

View 15.2 15.8 0.2 Investment 18.4 12.6 **18 Activity 12.1 18.9 Security 16.0 15.0 0.3 Authenticity 14.1 16.9 0.9 Discovery 11.9 19.1 **2.2

* * = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 387 comparison are less significant and more varied. Discovery and Solidarity, once again, show significant increases, but so does Hyperbole, while large, but not significant increases, are also apparent for the Personal, Impersonal, and Activity lists (Table 7.17).

The postmodern Ministry sample recorded the highest Activity score, almost one standard deviation above the aggregate average.

Like the Adventure sample, this mix of results indicates that the Ministry’s adventure and heritage presentations draw from both the established conventions of mass tourism, and the emerging codes and modes of address of postmodern tourism.

However, the average scores also suggest that the Ministry’s rhetoric is more consistent, and that it sits to the mass end of the hypothesized postmodern spectrum. For instance, scores for critical mass tourism lists and indices, such as Activity and Security along with the Informational variables, exhibit much lower standard errors for the Ministry as compared to the Adventure sample (Appendix B3).6 In contrast, the standard errors for postmodern variables (Solidarity, Authenticity, and Discovery) are higher for the

Ministry sample. The average score for each variable exhibits a similar pattern, with the Ministry sample recording higher averages for the mass tourist variables, and the

Adventure texts higher averages for the postmodern. Adventure texts, in other words, exhibit a greater and more consistent use of key postmodern rhetorical variables while the Ministry is a more frequent and consistent user of key mass tourist variables.

The computer-based content analysis clearly indicates the heritage guides have a distinct way of presenting tourist landscapes. These texts, consequently, will be discussed separately. The differences between the two other postmodern samples are less dramatic. It is not possible to determine from the quantitative results alone if the

Ministry and Adventure samples represent distinct ways of presenting tourist landscapes.

It is not yet possible, in other words, to state whether the Ministry has moved away from 388 Table 7.17

Rhetorical Comparison of Mass and Postmoclern Presentations by Tourist Organizations and the Ministry, 1945-1992

Mann-Whitney U-Test Mean Rank Values

Tourist Organizations Ministry Presentations Presentations Z scores (1945-1990) (1980-1992) corrected Word Lists (N=15) (N=15) for ties

Sentences 16.0 15.0 0.3 Punctuation 11.4 19.6 **2.5 Types 14.4 16.6 0.7 WordLength 15.6 15.4 0.1 Numbers 16.1 14.9 0.4 Familiarity 20.5 10.5 Certainty 14.7 16.3 0.5 Qualification 15.6 15.4 0.0 Hyperbole 11.5 19.5

Personal 14.6 16.4 0.5 Solidarity 13.2 17.8 1.6 Impersonal 15.4 15.6 0.0

View 15.5 15.5 0.0 Investment 17.3 13.7 1.1 Activity 14.5 16.5 0.6 Security 15.2 15.8 0.2 Authenticity 15.7 15.3 0.1 Discovery 13.0 18.0 1.6

** = significant

Critical Value = 1.65 at p = .05, one tailed test 389 the rhetoric of mass presentations in an attempt to adapt to new ways of presenting landscapes, or even whether a distinct postmodern rhetoric has emerged. These questions are the subject of subsequent sections.

Heritage Guides

In a study of tourism marketing in Groningen, The Netherlands, Ashworth (1991) argues that heritage landscapes are “products” that are “manufactured” through their identification, interpretation, and marketing, all components of the process I have referred to as the presentation of landscape. Similar to Cohen’s (1988) analysis of authenticity, Ashworth believes that ‘heritage’ attractions are socially created rather than an representation of an objective, historic reality. He argues that a community can contain multiple heritage landscapes, and that the same physical environment can produce multiple heritage landscapes. He points out, nevertheless, that heritage landscapes have been defmed for the most part by groups who appeal to the historical record and aesthetic standards. Ashworth suggests, furthermore, that these groups pay little attention to the visitors who ultimately consume heritage landscapes. Architects,planners, and historians, he writes, “define their tasks in terms of various values intrinsic to the materials themselves, and only subsequently, and often reluctantly, accept the existence of heritage markets”. This focus results, he argues, in unsuccessful presentations. Most tourists do not have the education, interest, or time to assimilate the detailed, and often arcane information presented in traditional heritage guides.

Ashworth’s assessment applies generally to the heritage guides examined in this study. Authors of guides produced through state funded heritage programs in British

Columbia and Alberta tend to place architectural merit and historical authenticity ahead of the audience’s interest and abilities, despite the fact that the acknowledged purpose of 390 these guides is to provide a general introduction for tourists and residents to the built environment of a community. The authors of several heritage guides to communities in

Alberta state that their intent is, for example, to “afford afascinating overview of the people, places and events which shaped the early history” of a community and, even more ambitiously, “to foster an awareness of the broad themes which played such a critical role in the historical development of the Province” (Alberta, Historical Driving

Tour: Hillcrest-Bellevue, Crowsnest Pass, emphasis added). However, after setting these objectives, the audience is left behind. Readers are only directly addressed again in directions to the next heritage site. And yet, even here the reader is addressed indirectly.

The reader is told, for instance, to “Continue along 49 Street to 51 Avenue and turn right past the Arlington Hotel to the CPR Train Station” (Alberta, Red Deer Historical Walking

Tour). The authors do not, furthermore, clearly nor consistently explain how buildings or sites exemplify ‘broad themes’ of the province’s heritage. Parallels and comparisons between communities are seldom developed. It is usually left to the reader to make the connection between individual examples and the themes identified in introductions. In addition, all of the brochures examined lacked a summary statement of the major themes a community’s heritage illustrates. Heritage guides to communities in British Columbia are even less attentive to the audience. Most fail to introduce general themes at all, focussing exclusively on the architecture and history of specific buildings.

The failure to link sites with broader themes is particularly true of descriptions of private residences. Although private residences are typically the largest category of buildings presented, descriptions focus almost exclusively on the architectural qualities of buildings and the background of their original owners. The same is true of commercial and civic structures. For instance, the guide for Red Deer devotes two pages to the Greene Block. The reader is told that “The Greene Block, constructed in 1901, is 391 derived from the ‘Romanesque Revival’ style, a popular commercial building form in western Canada between 1880 and 1910”, that “The Greene Block was one of the most distinctive business buildings in Red Deer when complete”, and that “It provided office space for Mr. Greene’s law firm, a private bank, and various local businessmen”. Yet, nowhere is the reader told why Romanesque Revival was popular as a style, or what it symbolized on the prairie landscape. Architecture, owner, and function are not woven into a larger social, cultural, and economic interpretation of the community. Buildings associated with social groups or industries appear to be more amenable to the stated objectives of heritage guides. Compare the following description of the Polish Hall in Coleman, Alberta with the previous example.

The Polish Hall—Coal mining is one of the most dangerous of all industrial occupations. Given the instability of the coal market, it is also one of the most irregular. Beneficial societies were established by most of the ethnic groups in the Pass to provide members with fmancial compensation during layoffs and in the event of injury or death. (Alberta, Historical Driving Tour: Coleman, Crowsnest Pass)

The text continues for a further paragraph to detail the specific operation of the Polish

Brotherly Aid Society: when it was founded, the amount it paid for lay-offs and deaths, the functions it contained, and the size and character of its membership. Subsequent paragraphs describe the architectual features of the buildings. This description as a result does a fairly good job, of relating a building to the major theme in the brochure: the uncertainty and hardship of life in a single (primary) industry town. Social, cultural, and industrial structures, nevertheless, represent only a small proportion of the sites and buildings presented in heritage guides. A count of the fifteen guides included in the computer-based content analysis found only 12 social, and 26 industrial buildings among the 360 presented. Guides are dominated by the private residences of the wealthy and 392 the powerful (bankers, politicians, contractors, successful businessmen), commercial structures, and civic buildings (court houses, town halls, post offices), The emphasis on architecture and structures associated with the wealthy and the powerful has led some academics to criticize heritage programs for their elitism (Tunbridge 1981). There is some evidence, nevertheless, that these priorities are changing. In addition to the description of the Polish Hall, the heritage guide for Coleman and other communities in the Crowsnest Pass present miners’ cottages, work places, cemeteries, and social and union halls.7

The general absence of tourists and overarching themes in heritage guides is also reflected in their structure. Heritage guides are commonly authored by, or with the assistance of, local residents (local historians, heritage committee members, museum curators). Guides, however, tend to follow a standard format, reflecting their common association with provincial and federal agencies. All guides, for instance, structure their presentations around individual buildings (or sites). In this sense, heritage guides are similar to aristocratic texts that present landscapes in terms of stations. Each selected building is an ‘ideal scene’ to which the audience is directed. There is even a common perspective and language. Buildings are typically described and shown from the outside, and from a ‘station’ that is distant enough to view the entire (front) façade, but close enough to observe architectural detail. To assist tourists, many guides include an illustrated glossary of architectural terms. The order of presentations, however, is largely a matter of spatial proximity. Tours usually start in the community’s commercial and institutional core and work outward building by building by the most efficient route into the surrounding residential neighbourhoods. Intervening sites are ignored. This structure enables participants to see the most heritage in the least amount of time.

However, it results in a very disjointed text and thus landscape, one which does not lend 393 itself to narratives or to the identification of social, personal, and institutional associations. The only thing that holds the text together is the historical and architectural content, whose association, as previously noted, is not always clear or requires considerable background knowledge. An alternative structure might focus, for example, on a handful of colourful personalities or events, using the linkages between them to weave physically unconnected structures into larger cultural patterns. Such an attempt was made in a privately produced audio driving tour of Nelson, British Columbia.8 This guide takes a more circuitous route, and as a result features a stronger narrative than the

“Main Street” guide for this community. The tour starts at the train station using a transportation theme to introduce not only the CPR’s role in the community, but also that of early stemwheelers and competing railroads. The tour then proceeds to the former

Nelson Coke and Gas works, and thence to the Bums Block, both of which are all examples of the heavy industry and retail trade that the railroad brought to the community. The latter was built by Patrick Burns, founder of the Bums Meat company

(now headquartered in Calgary), who got his start, we are told, as a cattle buyer for the

CPR on the prairies. Similar connections are made among: the old jail, a former judge’s residence, and a former red light district the judge tried to clean up; two locations of one of the community’s major employers (McDonald’s Jam Company); and a street car display, a red light district accessible by the street car, the court house, and city hail. In this guide, personalities and events take precedence over architecture. Buildings and sites function as markers of larger historical themes. They are not attractions in themselves. The author also makes frequent references to listeners, drawing their attention to items of both present and historical significance. As a result, this guide is much more successful in creating a sense of place. 394

Heritage guides play a different role than most of the texts examined in this study. The primary purpose of these guides is not to motivate tourists to visit a community, but to help tourists (and residents) interpret its built environment and history once there. They also emphasize education (albeit implicitly) to a greater degree than any other sample, and promote a reflective style of travel more than any other brochures since the aristocratic period. Mass tourist heritage brochures, in comparison, commonly turn historical attractions, places of experience, and history into an activity. The Four

Seasons brochures of the late 1960s and early 1970s, for instance, ask visitors to “turn back history’s pages” in Victoria, and suggest that it “takes little imagination to hear the clomp of hooves, the shout and hard-fisted life that was once British Columbia” at the province’s historical forts.9 Brochures promoting Chemainus, perhaps the most successful community in British Columbia in transforming its heritage into a tourist resource, take a similar approach. A brochure issued in 1987 invites tourists to:

See ... into the Past The history of Chemainus, British Columbia, one encompassing a wealth of Native and European activity, has inspired the rebirth of a once-dying town

Hear ... the Industry Like the unfolding of pages from our past, murals of great strength and beauty flowered upon massive canvases. Whole walls now recount the effort and dignity of by gone years

Feel ... the Vitality More is happening now than ever before. Any time of the year, a visit to Chemainus might include a browse through a world-class gallery, an enticing helping of home-made ice cream, a wander past the saw mill or the smell of fresh bread down at the bakery 395

Taste ... the Excitement of the Future Melding the eye of the artists and the skill of the artisan, the vision has transformed a town into a rare outdoor gallery. Chemainus promises to be a new focal point for the arts

Chemainus has successfully united art and history in the presentation of its landscape.

The community invited artists to paint murals depicting personalities, events, and general themes of the community’s past on its buildings. The purpose of the brochure is to breath life into’ these murals and thus the interpretation of Chemainus’ heritage. The sensual “See ... Hear ... Feel ... Taste” parallelism suggests that a visit to Chemainus is definitely not equivalent to a visit to a staid art museum. It is a chance to “savour the artistic process, to participate in creativity, to come and understand art made for people”, and to become a part of the community. Promotions for the Ecomuseum, a region encompassing the Chemainus and Cowichan valleys use a similar rhetoric, as do brochures describing the Native Heritage Centre in Duncan. The latter asks readers to:

Imagine the Scene In a peaceful, forest-clad retreat located on the banks of the lovely salmon- famous Cowichan River. is the Native Heritage Centre. Welcome to a different world.., the authentic and magnificent world of the Northwest Coast Natives—this land’s remarkable first people. You won’t find just glassed-in display cases. There are no ropes or chains to keep you at arm’s length. We want you to get involved in the colour, the excitement and the pageantry that’s going on all around. We don ‘tjust want you to see our world, we want you to live it too. (Welcome to Our World, emphasis added)

The theme in this presentation is postmodem in its emphasis on the difference between the Centre and ‘mainstream’ attractions. Yet the rhetoric—its mode of address, its running style, its use of hyphenation and contractions—is undeniably drawn from the language of mass tourist advertising. 396

While the content and rhetoric of the “Main Street” heritage guides is clearly not oriented to a mass audience, their success as postmodem presentations of landscape is far from certain. Heritage guides, as previously noted, exhibit the highest average use of

Authenticity code words. These guides, however, make little additional effort to promote this theme. Unlike the adventure brochures to be discussed shortly, or the presentations of heritage landscapes found in other state agencies, the heritage Main

Street tour guides of British Columbia and Alberta do not explicitly justify their

‘attractions’ or distinguish them from mass tourist sites. Heritage guides are comprised almost entirely of factual statements. They do not ask readers to consult their own or larger cultural values. Nor are attractions promised to fulfil tourist expectations or motivations. For comparison, consider the following passages taken from the state of

Virginia’s flagship tourist guide: Virginia isfor Lovers. Describing the state’s Main

Street Program, the text opens with an adjudicative statement that is designed to place the state’s heritage resources in tourist space:

Something exciting is happening in the downtowns of small communities across Virginia. They are being restored, revitalized and are showing up on AAA triptiks as ‘must sees’ en route, becoming destinations in their own right.’0

Descriptions of individual communities take a similar approach. The authors are careful to relate and compare the state’s heritage wealth to other standards, and to the general values that underlie heritage ‘renovations’ and cultural tourism:

Travelers to EMPORIA, 34 miles west of Franklin, will discover the hidden beauty that residents began to rediscover during their 1987 centennial celebration. They peeled away “tons of metal sheathing” to unveil beautiful Victorian, Queen Anne and Colonial Revival architecture. 397,

The Ministry of Tourism’s recent presentations of heritage landscapes are very uneven in their rhetoric. For instance, the Gold Rush Trail Guide, its major heritage publication to date, moves beyond the conventions of mass presentations of tourist landscapes in several ways. The booklet, which describes the route taken by prospectors to the gold bearing streams of the Cariboo, features a periodic style similar to that found in historical works, and even includes footnotes and a bibliography. Figure 7.4 illustrates some of the rhetorical differences between the Ministry’s mass and postmodern descriptions of the province’s heritage. Note how the use of active verbs, personal pronouns, and references to the tourist industry prominent in the mass tourism example are virtually absent in the passage from the Gold Rush Trail. The latter also features several qualification statements and postmodern code words. The handling of

Barkerville’s claim to city status also displays a historian’s sensibilities of qualification.

Still the Gold Rush Trail retains some of the conventions of mass texts. For example, the frequency of promissory statements has been reduced but not eliminated. After describing the historical events or personalities associated with a place, the guide quickly invites the tourist to experience, and participate in the reconstruction of the province’s past. The narrative account of Barkervile concludes, for instance, by itemizing the attractions tourists can enjoy in the community and its vicinity. Similarly, while references to the tourist industry do not intrude into the main text, tourist accommodations, border regulations, and the location of travel information centres are described at the back of the guide, and advertisements for individual establishments are grouped at the end of every regional section. The Ministry’s heritage presentations, furthermore, seldom pause long enough to provide a detailed account of a community.

They lack the wealth of concrete information presented in the “Main Street” heritage guides. While perhaps not postmodem, the Gold Rush Trail is significantly further 00 west San town, site, months city bowed on of Bill gold the Baillie Englishman made north historic when largest summer with an as short and the were the is Cariboo Matthew man it open). same stout, once park. a are strikes little during the typical Chicago Judge Today, A of the just stores historic major Barker, shows where ‘49. after an west Barkerville, and of live 860s, at Billy 1 survived. now town the preserved, rush named is both after displays have early and Courthouse do was shop, to largest the the (1977) can and named in all the California town Barkervile restored you Presentations was Richfield (1987) the when after; 1 2 rush is Styles ground, 7.4 here, blacksmith’s Well, itself So since becoming been all gold visit, Quesnel, rich Trail the to Vacationland of Heritage rush had “fast this 1862. only Figure Example Example saloon? time in east Rush They’re the gold was Barkervile Church, Contrasting is it miners days. best around it old miles Gold the old-time up that the house. Canyon biggest Ministry’s 60 the Creek. is an lode stores, the Four-Seasons grew see The of hard-fisted store, About boasted Or Richfield gambling summer mother Williams quickly centre during the general and gold? below the false-fronted town Chinese the Francisco. for at held Barkerville a temper. (although justice and shaft Creek the San pan was site; fiery of to and stem Saloon, round mine heydey, the saloons and Lowhee his its Barkerville north year on certainly Royal, In Jake’s It and beard sunk hankering up Creek, a around shanties, paydirt visitors administered had Theatre had to bushy log hit area Wake Chicago the See at Ever of Begbie Barker Barkerville. Francisco.” with open The Lightning who legs, Figure 7.4 (continued)

Example 3 Barkerville Historic Town (1991)

Visitors to Barkerville today will find an authentic, restored gold rush town, complete with 75 buildings. In summer, you can enjoy the Theatre Royal, which carries on the music hail tradition of the gold rush days. Or you can hear the famous Judge Begbie (played by a noted actor) reminiscing about his circuit court days in the 1860s.

Come to Western Canada’s most famous Gold Rush Town and live the excitement of 1870s life and lifestyle.

You’ll step back in timethe moment you step through the entrance gate. Andwhatatimeitwas!

The Cariboo Gold Rush began in 1858 and took British Columbia from a Hudson’s Bay Company fur trading monopoly to a settled colony that would eventually join Canadian Confederation.

Thousands of prospectors poured into British Columbia from the United States, Canada, Europe and China, in search of fame and fortune.

In August, 1862, a stubborn British miner named Billy Barker hit “deep” pay dirt—the richest strike anyone had ever seen. The site of Barker’s claim became the centre of a new town called Barkervile.

History is alive and well in Barkerville. Come live it! 400 along the spectrum than some of the Ministry’s other heritage presentations. Example 3 in Figure 7.4 is from a pamphlet promoting Barkervile as a heritage attraction. Its rhetoric is virtually identical to the mass tourism example from the Four-Seasons brochure. The text presents Barkerville as a place to relive the past, and appropriately features an abundance of active verbs and colloquial expressions. Whereas the Gold Rush Trail describes Barkerviile, this brochure narrates its history.

A thorough and stable rhetoric of heritage presentations has yet to emerge. The

“Main Street” heritage tour guides appeal to a very narrow audience at the extreme end of the postmodem spectrum. The only tourist likely to be motivated by and use these guides are ones who have an extensive background in the architecture and history of the west. Without these contexts, the guides are too dry and too specific to capture a general audience’s imagination. The Ministry’s publications, in comparison, are more successful in addressing a large audience, yet the degree to which these guides are postmodern is open to question. Certainly as will soon become clear, the Ministry’s

‘postmodem’ presentations lack some of the key rhetorical qualities that set ‘hard’ adventure presentations apart.

Adventure Presentations

The results of computer-based content analysis indicate that the Ministry and Adventure tour samples share a number of rhetorical qualities. There are no significant differences between the samples in terms of postmodern themes, nor are there consistent differences in style. The only expected difference to appear was in the use of Solidarity pronouns, with the Adventure sample exhibiting a much higher use of this mode of address. In the previous, section I offered several alternative explanations for this result. First, the

Ministry has successfully adapted its mass rhetoric to postmodern styles; second, 401 postmodem rhetoric has failed to emerge as a distinct ‘genre’; and third, there is a spectrum of postmodern rhetorics, and this variation masks expected differences in the quantitative analysis. Elements of all three explanations are true. Additional statistical comparisons, for instance, suggest that the Ministry’s rhetoric differs from mass presentations in the same way that adventure presentations do. In addition, as noted in

Chapter 5, consulting firms have encouraged adventure companies to adopt mass presentation techniques. This advice may have weakened differences that might have been present in brochures published before those in my sample. Closer examination suggests, nevertheless, that the third explanation is the strongest. There are several rhetorical strategies—solidarity techniques, mission statements, and embellished phrasing (scientific terminology and adjudicative statements)—that separate ‘hard’ presentations of landscape from ‘soft’ (and thus pure adventure tourist presentations from the Ministry’s). These key rhetorical strategies deserve fuller attention.

Solidarity Techniques

The most obvious difference between hard and soft presentations is the use and frequency of solidarity modes of address. The Ministry’s presentations do not use solidarity pronouns as frequently as adventure presentations. Furthermore, the Ministry does not use these pronouns in as thorough manner. “We” and “our” are plugged into sentences, but little effort is made to complement this attempt to bridge the distance between author and audience with other techniques.” Significantly, solidarity pronouns are more commonly used in the Ministry’s presentations to refer to the province as a collective author (“Rafting our rivers”, “Our rivers are clear”), than to the bonds between a united author and audience. Ministry presentations do not, and perhaps cannot, describe a tour as a shared experience, or celebrate common knowledge, concerns, and values. As a large scale author offering no experiences itself, the Ministry has few bases 402 on which to connect with the audience. As Dillon (1986) argues, a text does not really enact solidarity until it endorses and adapts to a point of view. Solidarity pronouns must therefore be woven into a larger attitudinal fabric before they acquire their full rhetorical force. The opposite is true for small adventure companies that promote a ‘strong’ version of environmentalism. For such companies, the use of solidarity pronouns is more natural. Distinctions between tourists do not emerge since they are presumed to share common values and physically embark on a common journey of discovery.

Our trip begins aboard the MV Uchuck, one of the last working freight ships on the coast, as we steam through the steep fjords of Western Vancouver Island toward the open sea. Fully loaded kayaks are lowered over the side by ship’s crane and we begin paddling the waters first seen by Capt. Cook over 200 years ago. The first European to make contact on the North Coast he was greeted by a highly developed Nunchalnuth culture, centred here at the magnificently situated village of Yuquot (the name means “Blow with the Wind”). Today, almost abandoned, it still has the “feel” of 4000 summers of habitation as well as one of the best totem poles on the coast. (Tofliw Expeditions 92-93, emphasis added)

In addition to the use of solidarity pronouns and expressions of shared values, hard adventure guides also create stronger footings between authors and audiences by providing ‘biographies’ of their tour leaders. Biographies usually appear near the beginning of the text but vary considerably. In the hardest texts authors describe the individual backgrounds of tour leaders: their education, experience (previous expeditions, familiarity with a habitat or culture), commitment to environmental ethics, and various skills (photography, first aid, food preparation).12 Biographies also emphasize the friendliness of their leaders. They are not only tour hosts—they are also potential friends and compatriots. This rhetorical strategy encourages a sense of intimacy and social expectations before the tour even begins. 403

In addition to descriptions of tour leaders, some presentations textually complete the equation with definitions of their typical clientele, While this practice is not as common (nor desirable) in mass tourist presentations, adventure brochures aim at a narrower, more specialized market, and thus can afford, and need to be more focussed.

Authors of adventure presentations often try explicitly to set their clientele apart from mass tourists by projecting model travellers. Adventure tourists are typically characterized as physically active, open minded, sociable, spirited, and willing to try new things. A Black Feather brochure, for instance, defines its clientele in the following way:

Black Feather Adventurers do interesting things ... they are active, healthy, environmentally conscious, outdoor-oriented and fun to be with, Most enjoy physical activity as a part of their life, and like the challenge of activity, adventure

and learning in a holiday. They come from all walks of life .. All participants have a spirit of adventure and a willingness to try new and different experiences. We are proud to report a repeat clientele of more than 35% (warning: Black Feather can be habit-forming!).’3

Presentations oriented to softer adventurers, in contrast, play down the physical demands of their tours in order to address a larger market. One soft adventure company, for instance, indicates that it “offers gentle adventures designed to provide ‘normal’ people with an opportunity to comfortably experience and learn about the wilderness.” The brochure clearly plays on the stereotype of adventure tourism as the preserve of young, well-to-do, politically involved individuals. The text continues:

Our philosophy is that the wilderness is to be savored and enjoyed, not challenged and conquered. You don’t have to be a fitness freak or outdoor buff to take part in our packages. You don’t have to own any expensive outdoor equipment. We supply everything you need! (Gentle Adventures) 404

Textual ‘conversations’ are limited by the distance that separates author and audience. The use of solidarity pronouns, biographies, and descriptions of the audience help shorten this distance by characterizing the participants in the conversation. In this context, personal pronouns can also be used for effect. ‘You’ is no longer a faceless quality in a solidarity-based text; rather, you is an (idealized) person who shares specific values. The use of solidarity pronouns thus opens up rhetorical space for other forms of address, accounting for the Adventure sample’s high average for both of these modes.

Mission Statements

Another important distinction between hard and soft presentations of landscape is the mission statement. Many hard presentations begin with a statement that is designed both to describe the company’s philosophy of travel, and to distinguish their product (and motivations) from mass tourism. This statement typically includes a brief description of the company—its history, main destinations, dedication to their clientele—as well as an affirmation of its commitment to the environment and indigenous cultures. The mission statement is a sales pitch, but one that sets the monetary relationship aside. It suggests that the primary motivation of the company is to share the experience of exceptional landscapes and cultures. It invites the tourist as an equal, not in knowledge and experience, but in motivation and values. The mission statement thereby helps to balance the communicative relationship between the author and audience. This rhetorical effect is heightened further in some guides by composing the mission statement in the form of a personal letter. Brochures issued by Adventure Spirit and Tofino Expeditions both use this tactic.

Dear Friends Adventure Spirit Travel Co. is committed to the needs of the present-day traveller. Our philosophy is that a vacation should stimulate and enrich your life 405 in ways not available by conventional travel. Discover natural environments, diverse wildlife, different cultures, and new friendships. Experience (Adventure Spirit 1988)

Dear Friends Tofino Expeditions began four years ago with the idea of applying old fashioned service and quality to sea kayak adventure travel. Our tour philosophy combines ecological awareness and low impact camping techniques with guiding in a

classic tradition ... To us clients aren’t just numbers on a schedule to be led, fed, and shown the requisite number of sites on an itineraiy, but a group of unique individuals whose interests, needs and desires shape the nature of the trip as it

progresses. We ... (Tofino Expeditions 92-93)

Another presentation that places the mission statement in the form of a letter is the 1992

Ecosummer brochure. The rhetoric in this example, however, is more extreme. The author draws on military and religious metaphors. Specifically the author characterizes himself as an environmental prophet who not only wants to share his concerns for the environment, but who actively encourages tourists to join in the battle to preserve it.

Like other prophets, the appeal is set in the form of a narrative wherein the author recounts his first visions, and the realization that they must be shared:

Ecosummer Expeditions was founded in 1976 with the ambition to engage eager participants in wilderness adventures which incorporated a significant element of natural and native history. We were on the leading edge of what has come to be known as adventure travel and ecotourism. As its founder, I am an avid traveller, have an extensive expedition background and am educated in the biological sciences. I also have an insatiable desire to be in the outdoors, absorbing as much as possible about the earth’s natural history through first hand experience. I began to realize that the world’s natural habitat was being devoured at an increasing rate and that for the most part the extent and the value of the loss was unrealized. Although I enjoyed travelling through wilderness regions without seeing another soul, it became clear to me that it was imperative to share these experiences with others. They, in turn, would return the better for it and 406 join the strengthening collective voice for the preservation of habitat for the future of ourselves and our many silent global partners. (Journeys ofDiscovery)

The narrative then moves ahead, bringing others into the fold and detailing the rewards of conversion.

Over the ensuing years, many habitat battles have been won or lost and the conflicts are ongoing; however, many first class leaders and staff have joined me, and committed themselves to this labour of love. The rewards are immeasurable as we make special friends and watch the changes that overcome so many participants as they share and liberate their spirit of adventure and cultivate their understanding of various wild regions of the world.

The author completes this appeal and the images by suggesting that adventure tourism is one of life’s basic necessities and, consequently, that the well being of the human race depends upon the preservation of wilderness.

Wilderness adventure is at the roots of mankind and the soul is not complete without it, so may we always be able to enjoy it.

Ecosummer, then, commits itself to offering exceptional and unique interpretive adventures and we hope you will join us, have a great experience, and further your commitment to the natural resources that make it all possible.

The tour becomes a medium for passage into an inner circle of the converted. However, like the pamphlets handed out by some religious groups, this vehement rhetoric succeeds only with those who are actively looking for alternatives, or who already share the basic principles behind its message. The passage’s rhetoric draws absolute boundaries around the favoured audience. One is either inside or outside—there is no in between.14

Although few other presentations matched the fervour of the Ecosummer guide, these kinds of metaphors are not uncommon in the literature of environmentalism. In 407 particular, the rhetoric of this mission statement calls to mind the strategies pioneered by Rachel Carson and Aldo Leopold. The success of Carson’s Silent Spring, Killingsworth and Palmer (1992) argue, is directly attributable to her use of “startling contrasts and dramatically rendered conflicts”. Carson created a sense of urgency in her reader, a feeling that environmental disaster was inevitable if the battle to save it from big business was not immediately taken up. Leopold’s rhetoric in Sand County Almanac is quieter, but it was no less important in helping create the image of wilderness as a “spiritual place where human beings can reach beyond their limits and ultimately come together”.

Leopold’s spiritual view of nature unites the scientist, environmentalist, and tourist in adventure presentations, all working to preserve their common life source. Authors of adventure presentations of landscape use these strategies (consciously or not) to help establish a footing with their audiences. The presence of these strategies creates a shared reading context the audience can recognize and associate with.

Mission statements are also found in some of the softer adventure presentations.

They are, however, shorter and less committed. They also tend to balance their environmental appeals with reassurances that their tours are suitable for ‘average’ persons. In the following passage, tourists are offered the best of British Columbia’s wilderness, but spared the sacrifices and hardships of touring remote areas.

Five Seasons Adventure Tours would like to help you discover the fifth season— the “Season of Adventure!” Our unique wilderness experiences are designed to escort those with little or no experience into the most beautiful wilderness areas of British Columbia safely and comfortably. Our 1990 trip schedule reflects our choice of B.C.’s premier wilderness destinations. (Wilderness Adventures)

Mission statements are not included in the Ministry’s publications. The 1989 Adventure

Guide does open with a message from the Minister of Tourism, but its content is hardly comparable to even the softest mission statements. The Ministry cannot come out with a 408 strong stance on adventure tourism—at least not to the degree where they discredit the mass tourist industry. To do so would undermine the mass tourist industry which, as pointed out in chapter 5, still accounts for the bulk of tourist expenditures in the province. Consequently, this strategy will remain one of the key ways in which the harder adventure organizations distinguish themselves.

Postmodern styles

Style is a third major difference between hard and soft adventure presentations of landscape. Specifically qualitative interpretations suggest that hard presentations make more frequent use of embellished phrasing, secondary structures, and adjudicative and optative statements than their soft and Ministerial counterparts. The latter qualities were not included in the computer-based content analysis, but the differences accord with expectations. The frequent use of embellishment also accords with expectations. The failure of the computer-based content analysis to record significant differences between the Adventure and Ministry samples for these variables is directly attributable to the range of adventure texts included in the adventure sample, and to the words included in the embellishment lists. The embellishment lists are comprised of common words that could be found in any of the periods examined. In hard adventure presentations, however, embeffishment is achieved through the use of technical and scientific terms as well as proper and local (often Native) place names. For instance, the 1988 Ecosummer brochure refers to the “nocturnal habits” of sea birds, “endemic plants”, “pelagic fish”,

“invertebrate life”, “intertidal zones”, “hydraphones”, and “Gaawa Hanas”, and makes frequent references to the biological and archeological sciences. Yet, it is doubtful that most tourists know what a pelagic fish is. In fact, it is doubtful that most postmodern tourists know the meaning of the term. The term simply means ocean going, and is thus redundant in the context it is used: “oceans rich in shell and pelagic fish”. The word, 409 along with the other examples, however, plays a social rather than scientific function in the text. Like the aristocratic authors who sprinkled picturesque terminology throughout their presentations, scientific embellishment helps set postmodern presentations apart.

They function as social markers for the reader to consume. They also work to substantiate authors’ claims about the background of tour leaders and the educational focus of trips.

In tandem with this embellished prose, hard presentations feature more complex sentences and a greater reliance on secondary structures, Like aristocratic presentations, hard adventure presentations, appear to use primary structures as frameworks for situating embellishment in a text. In other words, secondary structures, despite their grammatical function as qualifiers and modifiers, are actually the text’s most important rhetorical components. The importance of secondary structures can be ifiustrated by

‘deleting’ them from a passage. Figure 7.5 shows a range of equivalent adventure passages in which primary structures are shown in bold and secondary structures in plain type. Once secondary structures and embellishment are removed, what is left is plain and often trivial, and thus hard to distinguish from mass presentations of landscape.

Like mass presentations, softer brochures rely more on primary structures, keeping with their preference for a running style. Most secondary structures in soft guides, furthermore, address tourists’ expectations, or provide factual information.

Embellishment in soft brochures is primarily achieved through the use of hyperbole. The

Ministry’s adventure publication’s sit somewhere between these extremes. The use of embellishment and secondary structures, however, is anything but consistent and appears to have changed over time. The 1989 edition of the Outdoor and Adventure

Guide, for instance, is to the mass end of the postmodem spectrum. Primary structures and promissory statements abound. The text in the 1993 Outdoor and Adventure Guide, ancient for have visiting Pincock world. preferably villages. Gord the and in life. fit experience; guide ancient be at scenery animal must veteran paddling and watch sites. plant intimate provocative Charlottes standing participants and (Hard) most unique still a such Queen its archaeological as of Presentations 92-93 poles year 7.5 Soft and wonderful yielding 10 to various totem at most because join Figure kayaks Tourism guides, the to Hard of Expeditions found two powerful single are some in by with Galapagos” invitation Tofino Adventure Haida. culture through the special evidenced completely of participants “Canada’s is Haida 5 very a land to journeying called the heritage and to conducted developed limited extends often kayaldng. are is artistic springs with highly Gwaii strictly hot expeditions is the of Haida Haida Expeditions size sites, expeditions group of familiarity archipelago rich small Tofino Land This Vestiges The Group These some village Figure 7.5 (continued)

Adventure Spirit The “Canadian Galapagos” offers an unparalleled natural history experience.

Protected as a national park reserve, the islands preserve large stands of ‘old growth’ rainforest, natural hotsprings, and provide nesting sites for thousands of birds—puffins, bald eagles, auklets, peregrine falcons.

The rich native heritage is a major focus of the trip.

The Haida name for the islands, Gwaii Haanas, appropriately translates as “place of wonder”.

Visiting the Haida villages of Tanu, Skedans and Ninstints one discovers the best examples of standing totem poles in the world.

Five Seasons Adventure Tours Wilderness Adventures

8 days—We have teamed up with Gord Pincock of Butteffly Tours, a nine year veteran guide in the Charlottes, to offer you an intimate exploration of the Queen Charlotte wilderness.

We begin our exploration of the waters of Skun Gwaii, (Ninstints) from the sheltered waters of Rose Harbour.

The abandoned Haida Indian Village of Skun Gwaii on Anthony Island has been designated as a U.N.E.S.C.O. World Heritage Site and is the focal point of this trip.

Skun Gwaii boasts over a dozen standing totems, longhouse remains and a strong cultural presence which will be interpreted by the native guides who live on the island.

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Perhaps, you’ll even catch sight of a whale coming up for air or diving with a slap of its enormous tail. Ready for Action?

Try fishing for famed B.C. salmon, some running 50 lbs. and more. Consider kayaking.

Or how about a round of golf with the ocean as your backdrop?

Your Seaquest guide will be happy to help you take part in the sport of your choice. After all, outdoor life is what B.C.’s all about.

And, yes, the water during our travels is usually warm enough for swimming. Discover the wonders of the B.C. coast There’s no place in all the world like the coast of British Columbia.

And there’s no better way to see its scenery, people and super, natural sites than with Seaquest.

Come cruise our sheltered waters in comfort and luxury. See B.C. as it’s meant to be seen. 414 in comparison, has been ‘edited’ significantly. Sentences have become longer and more complex, scientific code words have been added, and the mode of address is less direct.

Figure 7.6 provides equivalent excerpts from the Ministry of Tourism’s 1989 and 1993 Outdoor and Adventure guides.

The third stylistic difference between hard and soft adventure presentations is the relative use ofjudgemental statements. Specifically, harder presentations feature a higher incidence of optative and adjudicative statements. Optative and adjudicative statements are those that ask readers to consult a culturally proclaimed set of values (Hart 1990),

The difference between the two is a matter of degree. While optative statements appeal to social standards, adjudicative address formally encoded standards.’5 In Adventure texts these statements commonly refer to the ethics of environmentalism, both as a life-style code, and as a politically and scientifically recognized guideline for protecting

‘biologically rich’ or endangered areas. On occasion, these standards are explicitly stated, most notably in the mission statement. But more commonly, the standards are left implicit. The appeal assumes a basic awareness and acceptance of the ethics of environmentalism. For example, adventure brochures frequently appeal to National

Parks, or to well known ecological areas to validate the environmental value of their tours. The Queen Charlottes, for instance, are commonly described as Canada’s

Galapagos, providing a real standard for the reader to evaluate the material. Guides also appeal generally to ecological issues and values. The 1988 Ecosummer brochure, for instance, issues the following statement about the environmental sensitivity of the Queen Charlotte Islands. The authors write:

As the oldest tour operator (11 years) in South Moresby by some years, we hope that the area’s new notoriety will not also bring upon its demise from another source. For the same biological reasons that this fragile gem could not withstand logging it will not tolerate the wrong type of tourism. is via and lakes to the the or period of your and and wilderness along explore short month needed use, with parts commonly, gear sheltered a to a overland), to marathons. freshwater in are Guide our for remote most other easy one enough familiar and skills (carried sightseeing beautiful most seen paddling many Columbia. as with is and waterways, in handle travelling rivers not become Adventure to relatively that 1993 paddling portaged to world are British packed are lakes, coastal people and of Canoe” learn the Columbia’s stopping be canoe time here in easily the two of can is can Kayaking as kayaks rivers proficient while It British person areas ages navigating and craft of Outdoor plenty and “Canadian clear support all kayak of a two frw course, kayak, Expeditions to of This as waters. some have and or are Of canoes open crystal time. capable Tourism There Canoeing and The world. is canoe coastal supplies known more. Both novices of canoe way. access You’ll areas. 7.6 added) of Figure to the (emphasis Ministry birds and time. of of have or or or novices of BC suited public— discover some mode way. and canoe You’ll the catching canoe a period the to scenery you’ll use, populations Ideally have Guide superb your to water, short we a along a seen. is along, the Natural animal easy province, in marathons. see around ever expert, drift our inaccessible one kayak Adventure of Super, an sight way 1989 through or isolated you often relatively paddling the you’ve and and As handle your to sites. are are not to canoe already silently stop a springs, water Kayaking are that learn to close Both slip environment learn Indian to hot you’re unaware. Outdoor get here and then if can you places to time native Columbia, coves, and of lets and ages challenging way wildlife wilderness a course, all Canoeing transportation. of As Of British and most sights the hidden historic kayak Expeditions plenty kayak, Figure 7.6 (continued) 1989 1993

The Queen Charlotte Islands North by Northwest

A trip around these lush and primordial islands can include South Moresby National Park Reserve, in the Queen visits to falcon and eagle nesting sites; excellent snorkeling; Charlotte Islands, is world-famous for its exceptional sea sightings of sea lions, peregrine falcons, homed and tufted kayaking among the 150island that make up the chain— puffins, and seven species of whales; plus time in Haida boasting bird colonies, cascading waterfalls, ancient Haida Indian settlements. ruins and a natural hotspring. The rich marine and bird life, diversity of intertidal plants and organisms, wonderful stands of huge spruce and cedar trees, and the culture of the Haida Indians make each day simply unforgettable. Nature Observation Nature Observation

The Queen Charlotte Islands The QueenCharlotte Islands

Located off the central coast of British Columbia, the Queen An accepted theory suggests that portions of the Queen Charlotte Islands consist of an archipelago of over 150 Charlotte Islands, the most remote island group on Canada’s islands. The Japanese current passes the islands, giving west coast, were not covered by the huge continental sheet them a mild climate and unique ecology. of ice which blanketed most of the country during the last ice age. As a result, there are more rare, endemic species of plants and animals on these islands than anywhere else in Canada. Over one mfflionpairs of nesting seabirds live here and this area is home to the highest density ofperegrine falcons in the world. The world’s largest species of black bear roams these islands and some of the best remains of temperate rainforests in the world are found in the South Moresby National Park Reserve. the may towns and you Tanu World band, communities. modern The Indian Nations Skedans, at interesting native United required. also a 1993 Haida is local are the the of access Ninstints, Massett from sites of Boat and Site. ancient village permission the Skidegate With of visit famous Heritage (continued) 7.6 of The they Indian life. Figure Guides be On village Site. the Graham beaches. Haida plant of Naikoon photographers, one, the Haida as sand part local Reserve. Heritage objectives, enthusiasts. nature well lush Park as major northern includes their or a World beautiful abandoned among and of The fmd the 1989 forms eagles Massett, National anthropology Nations find clients and islands. and stretches populated, whales, United you’ll Moresby, and Moresby world-famous ensure a buffs major most to lions, are Skidegate Park now two South the Island, island, of sea best history is are islands their Island, villages southern There proposed Anthony Ninstints, do Provincial puffins, The natural 418

This optative judgement only makes sense, and has appeal, if the reader is familiar with the environmental battles that have been waged over old growth forests, and if they accept the cultural values surrounding adventure tourism. The use of adjudicative and optative statements does not preclude promissory appeals. However, promissory statements are less frequent and explicit, and commonly presented in tandem with factual, optative, and even adjudicative judgements. As a result hard adventure presentations are much more subtle in their sales pitch: “Each summer active people who enjoy natural history, exploring, and exercise join West Coast Expeditions for the rewarding experience of a 7 day sea kayaking experience”.

Optative and adjudicative statements are much less common in soft guides and in the Ministry’s presentations. The Ministry has included a code of conservation ethics in its most recent adventure guides. The ethics, however, are quite specific. They address the ‘do’s and don’ts’ of observing wildlife and caring for the environment. They are not explicitly associated with a larger attitude to tourism, or used to distinguish adventure from mass tourism. In fact, the Ministry’s adventure presentations never broach the political side of wilderness recreation. Descriptions of South Moresby National Park,

Clayoquot Sound, and the West Coast Trail focus exclusively on their natural attractions.

For instance, the following ‘sanitized’ statement appears in the 1993 Outdoor and Adventure Guide:

The of survival British Columbia’s great abundance of wildlife, both flora and fauna, relies on the preservation of their environment. Come and see the spectacular sights, but tread softly and bring your binoculars to view the wildlife from a safe and respectful distance. 419

More frequent and stronger appeals are of course not within the Ministry’s mandate as a

‘provincial’ author of tourism landscapes. Still the Ministry appears to be moving more in this direction, albeit slowly.

Conclusion

Ecosummer’s presentations were the ‘hardest’ examined. In addition to scientific embellishment, the company’s presentations make frequent use of qualification, solidarity techniques, optative statements, and disparaging references to mass tourism.16

The following passage combines all of these elements, and might therefore serve as a baseline against which all postmodem presentations of landscape could be judged.

The west coast of Canada, mostly inaccessible by vehicle, has become increasingly more popular in the last decade. Sea kayaks and sailboats, each in their own way, enable the adventure traveller to explore this exceptional region of remote coastline. Home to some of the world’s highest forests, it has been widely believed that constant precipitation prevails. However, the west coast summers are generally beautiful as winter rains are out for recess. The summer explorer actually fmds luxuriant forests deep in moss, intertidal zones teaming with a myriad of fascinating invertebrate life, oceans rich in shell and pelagic fish, an abundance of birdlife, hotsprings, and one of the best developed and artistic native cultures in the world. The west coast provides well for the traveller who moves with respect.

Not all hard adventure presentations of landscape contain all of these rhetorical qualities.

However, the use of solidarity techniques, mission statements, and embeffished styles in some combination is fundamental to the persuasiveness of the adventure presentation of landscape. These tactics help identify the audience with the author and with a larger cultural set of values. As Burke (1969b) has taught, the identification of the audience with the author is a pre-condition for persuasion (and communication). By establishing these links textually, half the battle is already won. At the same time, however, these 420 identifications limit the appeal of adventure presentations of landscape. Hard adventure authors are not afraid of tackling political issues or explicitly criticizing values central to western culture. Adventure presentations thus take the opposite approach of mass tourist presentations which assiduously avoid such issues, but in the process limit their ability to establish close links with the audience. It is not surprising, consequently, that these solidarity tactics are relatively absent from the Ministry’s adventure presentations.

Although few other adventure presentations exhibited this collage of techniques, enough did contain a majority of them to conclude that a postmodern rhetoric of presentations of landscape has started to emerge. It is likely, however, that there will always be a spectrum of postmodern rhetoric. Postmodern tourism will not supplant mass tourism in the way that mass tourism supplanted aristocratic tourism. Aristocratic presentations of landscape were oriented to a very small segment of society. Now that modern technology has brought travel within reach of the masses, postmodern tourism will always remain a side-show. Besides, postmodern tourism acquires energy by promoting itself as an alternative form of travel. As aspects of postmodern tourism are taken over by the mass tourist industry, postmodem tourism will gravitate to new areas, and develop new rhetorics for presenting landscapes. Both the qualitative and quantitative analysis indicates that the Ministry has been able to adapt to the postmodern rhetoric—that is the Ministry appears to have moved consciously away from their mass conventions, and towards those featured in ‘hard’ adventure texts. This result goes against my expectations. Yet, it should also be pointed out that the Ministry’s rhetoric has evolved only part way, and that it has focussed on the more explicit and more flexible rhetorical strategies (most notably adventure themes and code words) of postmodern presentations of tourist landscapes. Furthermore, it appears that further evolution of the Ministry’s rhetoric will be hampered by their character as an author, and 421 by their long standing commitment to the mass industry. The Ministry has to be careful when it plays both sides of the fence. To accommodate further growth in postmodern tourism, the state will most likely have to pursue alternative forms of participation. The most obvious alternative at the moment is to support, but not directly become involved in promotions by regional organizations and individual establishments. If this occurs, audiences and rhetorical styles will continue to fragment.

Notes

1Taylor, K. (1992), “Ed Gifford”, Applied Art, 7(2): 43-7.

2Cathedral Grove is found in MacMillan Provincial Park.

3Main Street communities are those that have renovated heritage structures in their commercial cores through the assistance of provincial or federal organizations. A significant number of these communities have subsequently published walking and driving tour guides to help visitors identify and interpret their built environment.

4Qualification, the lone exception, is only slightly above it.

5Lanham compares the periodic style to the vast formal gardens of Baroque palaces, and the running style to an “informal garden which shapes nature without seeming to” (1983: 54)

6A standard error is the standard deviation divided by the mean (average).

7The Frank Slide Interpretative Centre in the Crowsnest region of Alberta also contains major displays on union and workers’ history.

8Heritage Tape Tours (nd), Pioneers ofNelson: Audio Tape Tour, Nelson, BC.

9Specialized guides to individual heritage sites, however, featured an informational rhetoric akin to the ‘Main Street’ heritage guides. For instance, the following is an excerpt from Hand ofHistory: Tour of the Hazelton Area, Highway 16, published in 1970.

2. Kitseguecla Indian Village. -- The totem poles here as throughout the area are carved from red cedar and are usually erected as the fmal ritual when a new chief takes over from his deceased predecessor. The carvings depict incidents in a family’s history and frequently indicate certain territorial rights and privileges that accrue to the owner and his family by virtue of these incidents. The poles have no religious significance. No pole in the area is more than 130 years old. 422

‘°Virginia (1992), Virginia isfor Lovers, Department of Economic Development, Tourism Development Group, 136-7,

11The Ministry’s adventure guides contain advertisements, unlike its flagship mass publications. These ads maybe interpreted as an attempt to create a more direct link between the individual operation and potential customers. Consulting firms have recommended this practice as a means for small businesses ‘to get the word out’. Nevertheless, the real motivation of including these advertisements is open to debate. Advertisements obviously help cover the cost of the new adventure publications.

‘2Adventure guides are unique in crediting all paragraphs in a brochure. Since most photographs are typically taken by the company’s guides, it can safely be suggested that the purpose of this practice is to demonstrate skills and build accreditation, a kind of ‘I was there’ statement.

‘3These characterizations also have a ‘practical’ purpose. Since their tours can involve considerable physical exertion and hardship, tour operators need to be honest about the difficulty and conditions of their expeditions.

14Although not distant, and drawing on solidarity techniques and the themes of adventure tourism, the author clearly adopts a superior tone to the audience,

15Religious ethics and the law are examples of adjudicative standards.

‘6h its 1988 brochure, the author suggests that most tourists in Africa “end up in the sausage grinder—being zipped around the popular National Park circuits in minivans and buses and staying at anns length from the continent’s real pulse”. The author proceeds to describe its tours as “Expeditions ... for small groups who wish to approach the treasures of Africa more closely and commit themselves to a unique and first class experience”. CHAPTER 8

CONCLUSION

This thesis began by re-counting a meeting I had with Gunnar Olsson, and his memorable question about nets and fish. At the time, I was not able to provide a very lucid answer, although in retrospect, it is clear that I had already begun to knit the net that was ultimately to become this study. The research paper I completed in Stockholm was a critical review of humanist and behavioural approaches to landscape interpretation, and, in particular, their perspectives on the relationship between language and landscape.’ I argued that behavioural and humanist approaches held overly restrictive views of language. Both approaches tend to see language as a neutral medium that forms a direct link between perceptions, values, images, or senses of place, and landscape. These modernist notions of language do not recognize the role that language itself plays in the construction of reality. Language, I argued, following Wittgenstein, Rorty, and Dewey, is not a “mirror of nature”. Language actively transforms reality in the process of presenting it since the meanings of words and sentences are always contingent on the purposes, situations, and contexts in which we use them. What is needed, I suggested, is a rhetorical appreciation of language. Rhetoric provides a pragmatic perspective on language—one which focuses on the way in which words are used to influence people’s actions and beliefs, rather than on what what words ‘essentially’ represent or mean. A rhetorical perspective emphasizes that language is a means of communication rather than a means of representation. I argued, moreover, that a rhetorical approach would broaden the range of landscapes that could be interpreted. A rhetorical perspective holds that all forms of communication, and thus all landscapes, are persuasive—that they are all involved in changing or reinforcing patterns of behaviour and sets of beliefs. Thus,

423 424 from a rhetorical perspective, all forms of communication share equal status. Some instances of communication may provide more insight because of their role in a specific set of events. However, no form of communication is inherently better than any other in providing insight into the ‘true’ nature of landscape. All presentations of landscape are selective—they all show and hide elements of landscape regardless of their embellishment. The stereotyped landscapes found in tourist brochures are no worse, and no better than those found in novels, or in the journals of a fur trader.

While I had a general sense of the analytical net I needed to construct, and the fish I wanted to land, I had only a vague idea of its final shape and the specific elements that were required. This study has been an attempt to put these elements in place, and to cast the completed net in order to discover what kinds of observations it would catch.

During its construction, I have added countless knots to my initial effort. The additions have not always resulted in an even pattern, and I have often gone back to mend holes or to untie and re-do complete sections. And even now that I have cast the net and hauled aboard a set of interpretations, I realize that I myself have not always been clear about what I have caught. The purpose of this section is to re-emphasize the key elements of the analytical net (and the interpretations it has provided), and in the process to describe some of the incomplete areas that remain and the knots required to close them. The chapter concludes with a brief commentary on the rhetorical difficulties encountered in writing this thesis.

Cultural Geography, Landscape and Rhetoric

A major focus of this study has been the relationship between cultural geography and rhetoric, and the opportunities that arise from their interface for the interpretation of landscapes. In particular, I began with a Dramatistic categorization of the major 425 perspectives on landscape in cultural geography. The distinctions made between traditional, humanist, Marxist, and communicative perspectives in terms of their assumptions about the motivation of human action are fairly straight forward. The differences, however, are critical to the analysis that follows. All approaches have been used to examine landscape and its relationship with language. However, the tendency in traditional, humanist and Marxist research is to trace the character of language respectively back to culture (as an agency of human action), individuals, or a socio economic context. I have argued, and tried to demonstrate, in contrast, that if we assume that language is an omnipresent filter (terministic screen) that shapes our perception of the landscape, then our concern must be first and foremost with language itself—that we must investigate how language is used to influence how people interpret and act in the landscape. The contribution of this study is to focus attention on the fact that presentations of landscapes are attempts to influence how people interpret the landscape—not through adding physical symbols to it—but by modifying the textual lenses through which they read the world about them. These textual lenses include the content of the presentation (what is written) as well as its style and form (the way it is written), the media and context in which it takes place, and the character of the author and audience. The communicative approach, therefore, forces cultural geographers to recognize that all elements of communication contribute to the meaning of a landscape. I have tried to emphasize this point by focussing on the role the relationships among rhetorical styles, authors, and audiences play in the presentation of tourist landscapes.

In developing a communicative perspective, I specifically argued for the use of rhetorical methods of interpretation. Rhetoric, I believe, can make an important contribution to the interpretation of communicative landscapes. Most obviously, it offers a wide assortment of methods, ideas, and examples that cultural geographers can use to 426 improve the analytical sophistication of their interpretations. I argued in Chapter 2 that one of the major weaknesses of humanist research on literary landscapes was its failure to ‘go all the way’. Humanist cultural geographers have seldom used literary methods in their attempts to read literature for evidence of landscape perceptions and values. In fact, some humanists have claimed that it was not within the scope of cultural geography to employ literary methods of interpretation. A similar argument has also been advanced by cultural geographers working within marxist and communicative perspectives. Yet, one would hardly expect a regional scientist to analyse transportation flows without a ready basket of statistical techniques, or a historical geographer to describe former land use patterns without setting foot inside an archive. The belief that particular methods are the preserve of particular fields is outdated and dangerous. Granted, one must proceed cautiously—methods cannot be borrowed from one field for use in the next without first becoming familiar with their underlying assumptions, limitations, and philosophical baggage (Agnew and Duncan 1981). But the point stifi remains: the interpretation of landscapes as texts, theatres, art, symbols, or generally communication, requires appropriate methods.

The basic perspective on language and rhetorical analysis advanced in this study is very similar to those found in poststructuralist writings. I have not, however, addressed this literature in any detail, and its general absence represents one of the major holes in my interpretive net. Although often choosing different starting points and material, poststructuralists consistently argue against attempts to ground language in a set of axiomatic truths, consciousness, or the physical world (Norris 1982). Derrida, for instance, argues that language cannot fulfil the phenornenological desire for immediate access to experience. Language, he suggests, always defers experience, always sets it apart from the actual event.2 Foucault promotes a similar interpretation of the 427 relationship between language and reality. His work, however, is focussed more on the social dimension of language, on how language embodies and perpetuates power. In his studies, Foucault repeatedly identifies, for instance, how the simple process of classifying people and places is an act of power. He argues that classification through language grows out of, and shapes, for example, class, gender, and institutional relationships.

Poststructuralist theory has become an important area of discussion and research in the social sciences recently. Its impact is particularly evident in the anthropological debates over the new ethnography, but it has also influenced current debates in human geography, In general poststructuralism has caused social scientists to question the role researchers play in the construction of their subjects. This concern has resulted in interesting studies of earlier research (Geertz 1988), and in attempts to develop new ways of representing subjects. Much of Clifford’s (1988) work, for instance, is predicated on the belief that anthropologists must grant a larger voice to their subjects— that their subjects should participate in their own re-presentation. Marcus and Fischer

(1986) also support this position. They argue that the demise of grand theory, and the increasing recognition of a western-Eurocentric bias in earlier research demands alternative ways of doing ethnography. They promote ‘edifying’ and polyphonic interpretations that emphasize context, local meaning, exceptions, and indeterminate interpretations rather than regularities and laws (Marcus and Fischer 1986). Not surprisingly, much of this recent work in anthropology has focussed on how the western biases of earlier anthropologists ‘naturalized’ cultural differences. Poststrucftiral anthropologists want both to avoid making this error again, and to help westernized groups regain their identity. 428

Poststructuralism has also inspired work in tourism studies. Perhaps the most obvious example is Urry’s (1990) study of leisure and travel in contemporary societies.

Urry builds his analysis around Foucault’ s notion of ‘gaze’, arguing that contemporary tourism is characterized by particular ways of seeing that influence what counts as an attraction. A shorter, but more vigorous use of poststructuralism is Selwyn’s (1993) comparison of structuralist and poststructuralist readings of tourist brochures. Selwyn considers both approaches “fruitful”, but argues that the latter may be better for examining current and future trends in tourism advertising. Selwyn argues that contemporary tourism advertising is moving away from structured themes and bounded places, and, like postmodem literature, offers a bricolage (cacophony?) of images and attractions: of Greek orthodox priests reading British tabloids, of temples, golf courses, natural sites, and “sexual people” shown in rapid juxtaposition. Selwyn feels poststructuralism helps analyze these new strategies because it is sensitive to “boundary fragmentation”, to the “schizophrenic’ nature of post-modem life”, and to the possibility that tourism is no longer part of a larger social and economic project (1988: 127-129).

A poststructuralist perspective would have probably broadened and strengthened my interpretations. However, I decided not to address this literature for three reasons.

Firstly, I felt that the rhetorical perspective advocated by Burke and similar rhetoricians provides a more pragmatic view of language. Poststructuralism presents a thorough critique of the relationship between language and reality. it is, nevertheless, less concerned with the strategic ways through which language actually influences actions and attitudes. Lentricchia (1983), for example, has severely criticized Rorty, de Man, and deconstructionists in general, for failing to appreciate the full social and political significance of communication. He suggests, for instance, that Rorty’s description of an edifying philosophy as ‘simply’ an attempt ‘to keep the conversation going’ is itself an 429 attempt to push the conversation in particular directions. Lentricchia argues, in other words, that the poststructural attempt to avoid the pitfalls of paradigms, meta-narratives, and other ‘totalizing’ discourses, contradicts the Burkean premise that language, and thus interpretations, always contain a point of view. Burke might, in fact, propose that the poststructural attempt to avoid fundamental positions is just another way of rhetorically disguising those same positions.3

Secondly, I felt more comfortable with the larger, and ‘more user-friendly’, basket of methods found in rhetoric. Poststructural methods of interpretation (including deconstructionism and hermeneutics) have been used by rhetoricians. But they are generally recognized to be more difficult to put into practice in the sense that they are less

‘methodical’ than traditional methods of rhetorical interpretation (Foss 1990; Hart 1990).

Deconstructionism, for instance, offers few interpretive standards and replicative methods. It is, consequently, difficult to develop comparative analyses with poststructural methods (especially when large samples are involved)—comparative analyses that tourism research strongly needs (Cohen 1993). I felt, furthermore, that the use of ‘qualitative’ and ‘quantitative’ methods would permit stronger interpretations.

A third reason for my decision to draw primarily on rhetorical methods and theories is more personal. Specifically, I felt uncomfortable with the tendency in some poststructural research to emphasize only the negative impacts of specific rhetorical practices. Rock’s (1992) study of tourism in southwestern Alberta, for example, dwells exclusively on how promotion of the Native community has been limited by a preference for (Eurocentric) heritage attractions by the state and the tourist industry. However, in arguing the injustice of this preference, Rock fails to recognize that the state has tried to incorporate other ‘marginal’ groups (unions, socialist political parties, women) into these same heritage sites. There will always be a need to highlight how established groups 430 dominate, and how marginal groups struggle to survive. But there is equally a need to examine and celebrate the successes of rhetorical interaction.

Tourism, Landscapes, Advertising, and Technology

A second major objective of this study was to use rhetoric to interpret how the state’s presentations of tourist landscapes have evolved in the twentieth century. Specifically, I focussed on presentations made by the British Columbia Bureau of Provincial

Information and the British Columbia Government Travel Bureau between 1900 and

1940, and those by its successor—the Ministry of Tourism—in the 1970s and 1980s. A couple of general conclusions can be drawn from this research. First, the study indicates that the rhetorical analysis of presentations of landscape can be used for pin-pointing and documenting transitional periods in tourism. Transitional periods are a key area of research. They highlight the forces and reactions that contribute to the development of a particular style of travel. In particular, the data presented suggest that the mass period of tourism began to emerge in the 1920s and 1930s in western Canada, a conclusion that counters the standard interpretation that mass tourism did not begin in earnest until after

1945. The end of the second world war is a convenient but misleading divisional point.

By focussing on post-1945 events, tourism researchers have missed pivotal developments—the initial participation of the state, the changing spatial and institutional character of the industry, the emergence of new rhetorics for presenting tourist landscapes—that contributed to the formation of mass tourism. Rhetorical shifts in the presentation of tourist landscapes during the 1920s and 1930s include the move to a less embellished, and more informational style, centred around the presentation of activities rather than scenery. The landscape became an object for recreation rather than contemplative consumption. The empirical analysis also confirms arguments by

MacCannell (1976) and Cohen (1988) that a postmodem style of tourism has recently 431 emerged. Postmodem presentations appear to play purposefully against the rhetoric of mass tourism. They are more embellished, more spiritual, and less distant. Specifically postmodem presentations try to distance themselves from the alienation of mass presentations, and to create a social landscape in which tourists join tour leaders in common adventures. Although postmodern tourism has grown considerably over the last decade and a half, its future character and growth are uncertain. Postmodem tourism is continually ‘threatened’ by the mass tourist industry as the latter borrows its themes and rhetorical strategies. Postmodern tourism, I sense, must continue to evolve in order to maintain its status as an alternative.

While the results of this study help clarify the historical framework of modern tourism in British Columbia and Canada, basic empirical research on mass and postmodern tourism is still a pressing need in tourism geography. For instance, research on the magnitude and character of aristocratic and early mass tourism in Canada would have a much stronger grounding if a thorough re-assessment of Viner’s estimates of foreign tourist revenues were available. I have tried to lay the ground work for this research by calling attention to Viner’s study and to those of other early researchers and organizations. But this is Only a start. Much needs to be done to establish with greater certainty the contours of early aristocratic and mass tourism in Canada. A similar plea can be made in terms of postmodern tourism. While studies on postmodern tourism have grown substantially since MacCannell’s (1976) seminal text, the extent of postmodem tourism, and its concrete relationship to changes in western society need further elaboration. Much of the current work on this topic remains theoretical, or only addresses postmodern tourism incidentally. To acquire a better grasp of its magnitude and character, ‘simple’ questions concerning the socio-economic background of adventure tourists, the exclusivity of the market (how mixed are postmodem and mass 432 markets?), and the institutionalization and commodification of postmodern tourism need to be answered.

A second major conclusion that can be drawn from the data presented is that there is an intimate relationship between the presentation of tourist landscapes, the participation of the state in tourism, the spatial organization of the tourist industry, the growth of the modern advertising industry, and the technology of transportation and communication.

Of these, the data seem to suggest that the latter was the key force behind the emergence of mass tourism in the 1920s and 1930s. Increasing use of the automobile for recreational travel during these decades challenged the spatial monopoly of the major transportation companies, and encouraged the state to become involved as the only organization large enough to oversee and co-ordinate its disparate elements and landscapes. The spatial structure of aristocratic, railroad tourism in western Canada was extremely limited. It primarily consisted of narrow corridors of travel joining distant nodes of attractions. There was limited demand, within this structure, for a large regional promoter of tourist landscapes. The needs of the industry were easily met and maintained by major transportation companies (the Canadian Pacific Railway in British

Columbia) and by municipal bureaus at major nodes in the transportation infrastructure.

The automobile, as a relatively independent means of travel, shattered this spatial and institutional structure. Specifically, the industry became more regional and fragmented as tourists penetrated the countryside, and as small roadside businesses were established to cater to their needs. Provincial and federal government travel bureaus were, at least initially, the only logical response to the promotional demands of this new organization.

Changes in transportation technology also changed the market for tourism. The automobile emphasized socially broader (mass), yet more local markets, over the distant and socially-defined audiences of aristocratic tourism. The state’s character as a large, 433 institutional agency also altered the relationship between authors and audiences of presentations of tourist landscapes. As a result, new ways of presenting landscapes had to emerge. The state’s initial offerings were a strange rhetorical mixture as it experimented with the established strategies of aristocratic presentations, and with those more suited to a mass market. A more settled style was not established until the 1950s.

The relationship between technology, the state, the spatial organization of the tourist industry, and advertising is less clear for the postmodern period. I do not feel that the emergence of postmodern tourism, and its associated presentations of landscape, can be traced to a singular force such as the wide-bodied jet. Rather, the development of postmodem tourism appears to be the product of a series of improvements in transportation and personal modes of communication. The proliferation of, for example, telephones, computers, facsimile machines—although on the surface making relatively minor changes in the way we communicate—have helped overcome the ‘tyranny’ of space by permitting groups of like minded, but spatially separated individuals, to communicate (Meyorwitz 1985; Harvey 1989; Thompson 1990). As a result, new audiences and markets have begun to emerge along specialized lines of interest.

Meyorwitz suggests, for example, that the proliferation of electronic media have fundamentally altered the boundaries between public and private spheres, the divisions between genders and generations, and the relationships between people and places. Specifically he suggests that,

Many Americans may no longer seem to ‘know their place’ because the traditional interlocking components of ‘place’ have been split apart by

electronic media ... Electronic media have combined previously distinct social settings, moved the dividing line between private and public behavior toward the private, and weakened the relationship between social situations and physical places. (1985: 308) 434

Thompson also makes this argument and proposes more generally that,

By separating social interaction from physical locale, the deployment of technical media also affects the ways in which, and the extent to which, individuals are able to manage their self-presentation. Any action or performance takes place within a particular framework which involves a whole series of assumptions, conventions and points of reference, An individual acting within this framework will, to some extent, adapt his or her behaviour to it, projecting a self-image which is more or less compatible with the framework. (1990: 230)

Postmodern tourism, taking into account its many varieties, is an expression of these possibilities and cultural trends.

While these theoretical speculations coincide with MacCannell’s, Urry’s, and

Selwyn’s suggestions that the linear relationships between tourist space, promoters, markets, and rhetorical strategies have broken down, it must not be forgotten that the state continues to play a key role in the promotion of mass tourism, and has taken a keen interest in postmodern styles of travel. The state in British Columbia has actively promoted postmodern tourism through research and development assistance, and through its own promotions. Research indicates, in fact, that the state has proven more adaptable than anticipated in addressing this new market. The rhetoric of its presentations of adventure tourist landscapes exhibit significant differences from the rhetoric of its mass market presentations. Still, the state has only partially accommodated the rhetoric of postmodern tourism. The state’s postmodern rhetoric is not as ‘extreme’ as the ‘hard’ presentations of some adventure companies, and it is likely that the state will not be able to incorporate all of the strategies these companies use. As an author, the state is committed, like the Canadian Pacific Railway was in the past, to a particular audience by virtue of its spatial mandate as an author of tourism landscapes. 435

Furthermore, even if the state could mimic the rhetoric of ‘hard’ presentations, the rhetoric of postmodem tourism would probably evolve further in order to set itself apart.

The state is intimately tied to mass tourism, and helps set the standards against which postmodem presentations rally. A more likely scenario is that the state will become less directly involved in the presentation of adventure tourist landscapes, preferring to facilitate presentations by independent operators rather than issue its own. The state’s role in presenting heritage landscapes is less clear. The rhetoric of state sponsored heritage tour guides is so different from standard (mass or postmodern) presentations of tourist landscapes that it will probably remain a limited genre, while the state’s own heritage presentations do not exhibit a consistent style at present.

In retrospect, the general contours of these conclusions about mass and postmodem tourism have emerged gradually over the course of my research. However, when I was about three-quarters through the thesis I began to recognize parallels between my observations and those of Harold Innis (a Canadian historian, political economist, and geographer) and others who have tried to extend his ideas on communications, most notably James Carey. This delayed response reflected my relatively limited appreciation of Innis’s work at the time, and, as a result, I did not try to incorporate his comments on space, time, and communication into this study. Nevertheless, I would like to address them briefly, since they also represent, I sense, one of the other major holes in my analytical net.

Innis is best known for his ‘staples’ thesis. Innis argues that Canada’s early economic and settlement history can be understood in terms of the successive exploitation of resources (staples) to meet the demands of larger and more powerful foreign markets. Innis (1956) writes: 436 The economic history of Canada has been dominated by the discrepancy between the centre and the margin of western civilization. Energy has been directed toward the exploitation of staple products and the tendency has been cumulative. Agriculture, industry, transportation, trade, finance, and governmental activities tend to become subordinate to the production of the staple for a more highly specialized community.

In developing this line of thought Innis focussed not only on the character of the staple, but also the market for which it was intended, and the technology by which it was extracted, exploited, harvested, or transported. Much of Innis’s work, for instance, examines how the economic development of Canada was structured by the British and

American economies—by what he calls the penetration of their price systems—and how shifts in the balance of Canada’s principal markets necessitated changes in the structure and extent of its own cultural economy. A concern with the form and pattern of settlements in Canada, and how they were shaped by the technology of resource exploitation is also an important theme in Innis’s work. Tunis’s notion of cyclonics—a theory that tries to explain the rapid growth of ‘frontier’ economies—is an example.

Innis speculates that technological advancements (industrial processes, transportation, or even pricing mechanisms) in ‘market’ economies create and demand almost instantaneous changes in the extent, efficiency, and management of frontier economies.

These forces, in turn, produce unstable and ‘incomplete’ settlements to the degree that other elements (social organizations, state-run institutions, and other ‘essential’ services and businesses) cannot keep pace with the rapidity of change (Neill 1972: 37-38).

While the staples thesis is a common thread throughout much of Innis’s research, his focus shifted in his later work to communication. In particular, Tunis was interested in the relationship between communication and space and time, arguing that different media of communication resonate different time and space biases that in turn affect the 437 basic organization of society.4 Innis believed that communication was intimately associated with power. To control the means of communications was to control the ability to defme reality. In Carey’s interpretation, the monopolies of knowledge Innis spoke of “in a cultural sense thus refer to the attempts of certain groups to determine the global vision of the world of a people: to produce, in other words, an official view of reality which can constrain and control human action” (1975: 44). Consequently,

Innis’s work on communication is permeated with many of the same themes of power and control that appear in his studies of the Canadian economy. Innis, in fact, effectively argues that the means of communication in a culture are intimately related to its economic activities. And equally, that forms of economy can be interpreted as means of communication—that “communication when considered in terms of the medium that facilitated it, might be seen as the basic staple in the growth of empire” (Carey 1975:

48). In “Producer’s and Consumer’s Marketing”, Innis proposes that the character of advertising “relates the means of communication to a certain bias in the price system”.

He consequently called for “an aggressive attack on a subject which [hasi enormous significance to modem civilization and especially for Canada” (Neil 1972: 78-79)

In developing these arguments, Innis seldom addressed the tourist industry.

Nonetheless, I suspect that Innis’s ideas can be used to interpret the character of tourism in Canada in the same way that they have been applied to the country’s fur, fish, forestry, mining, and agriculture industries. In particular, I would like to suggest that the staples thesis may provide a valuable perspective on tourism given the significant impact of technology on the spatial and institutional organization of the industry, the degree to which presentations of tourist landscapes appear to be tied (even if only perceptually in the case of aristocratic presentations) to foreign markets, the emergence of the state as a central participant in mass tourism, and the critical role of communication 438 and advertising in the tourist industry. In fact, Innis does hint from time to time that such an interpretation is possible. In “An Introduction to Canadian Economic Studies”,

Innis lists tourism as an example of the “increasing interdependence between Canada and the United States” that has in turn “necessitated increasingly rapid adjustments of governmental and industrial policy in Canada to that of the United States”. To support his argument Innis suggests that the repeal of prohibition in Canada, and subsequently the American decision to abandon ‘the great experiment’, were in part responses to the opportunities and costs of tourist traffic (1956: 171).6 Innis similarly comments in “Labour in Canadian Economic History” that,

The importance of staple products in terms of fish, fur, lumber, and wheat for export to Europe implied extensive credit facilities, with wide fluctuations in price and yield, distance from the market, dependence on the share system, the truck system, intensive self-sufficiency, and marked fluctuations in the standards of living. The increase of industrial development and the growth of urban centres, the development of the mining and pulp and paper industries, and the tourist trade and consequent dependence on American capital have involved increasing efficiency and extension of the monetary structure. These developments have been accompanied by increasing flexibility and increasing mobility. (1956: 197-199, my emphasis)

And again in “Transportation in the Canadian Economy”:

Rigidity of finance in Canada in her relations with the United States and Great Britain enhances adverse exchange rates. The application by either country of higher tariffs, including dumping duties and the use of the cost-of-production principle, checks the influence of the flow of goods as an equilibriating measure and accentuates the importance ofthe tourist trade and ofmore intangible items in the balance oftrade. (1956: 231, my emphasis)7 439

Admittedly, Innis’s comments on tourism are cryptic at best.8 I also recognize that these parallels and lines of argument demand considerable elaboration before they can provide a useful framework for examining the historical geography of tourism. At present they are little more than speculation. But it is my suspicion that future theoretical and empirical research in this direction will prove profitable.

Concluding Remarks

I would like to conclude by returning to ideas put forward in the preface. Specifically, I would like to comment on the rhetoric of inquiry and the difficulty of introducing and expanding on new ideas in any academic discipline. I begin with a quote from the linguist Roger Fowler who has written extensively on the construction and expression of ideology in language. In Linguistic Criticism he draws particular attention to the part conventions play in communication. Rhetorical conventions enable communication by presenting authors and readers with ready-made ‘meaning systems’. Fowler suggests that authors must tap into these systems in order to communicate effectively. But he also acknowledges that conventions can place severe constraints on what can be said.

In any abstract, theoretical discussion—for example, science, politics—a writer who intends to develop any innovative ideas finds himself with a

major problem of terminology, and therefore ... a major intellectual and communicative problem. Such a writer needs to speak about existing subjects without being fettered by the language in which they are already encoded; he wants to reorient people’s thoughts on those subjects, but is continually dragged back towards stock assumptions and classifications to the extent that he uses the existing terminology. (1986: 28)

Fowler thus argues that to introduce a ‘new’ language into a cultural discourse is to risk misunderstanding, rejection, or worse, indifference. Yet, at the same time, to continue using conventional expressions in such circumstances is to risk innovation and meaning. 440

I would hardly characterize the ideas put forward in this thesis as innovative—

‘reworked’ would be a more appropriate term. Fowler’s comments, nevertheless, underline the difficulties and choices that must be made when iniroducing new ideas and new languages into the existing conventions of a discipline. In other words, in writing this thesis I was faced with a problem of translation, of fitting rhetorical ideas into geographical conventions. I feel, in retrospect, that the rhetorical component has prevailed over the geographical, and perhaps that is best. The ultimate objective of the thesis, after all, is to show that the ideas and methods of rhetoric can assist cultural geographers in their interpretation of landscapes. It should also be noted, furthermore, that the study of rhetoric, and communication generally, is a central strand in current conversations in the social sciences and humanities. Over the past decade, more and more academics have looked to the themes and methods of rhetoric resulting in a convergence of scholarship around the notion that culture is fundamentally a product of communication—a way of interpreting and presenting ourselves, others, and the places in which we live. Human geographers have begun to engage this conversation, and I think it can be best furthered by moving more fully into the field of rhetorical scholarship.

Although the rhetorical may dominate, I have tried at the same time to write within the conventionsof cultural geography. I have done so for two reasons. Firstly, it is important to proceed as cautiously as possible—defining critical terms, laying out contexts, identifying examples, re-interpreting key authors—in any attempt to incorporate new material into an established practice. All fields of inquiry, and all perspectives, have their own assumptions and objectives—assumptions and objectives that may or may not prove incompatible with those in other fields. For example, the language of rhetoric would not translate well into the language of humanist cultural 441 geographers (as identified herein) since their assumptions about language are considerably different. I hope this study has proven, however, that there is a middle ground between a communicative perspective landscape and a rhetorical perspective on language that can be explored to the benefit of both. Secondly, it was also important to address as wide an audience as possible. Many established cultural geographers are reluctant to embrace recent trends in the social sciences (Tuan 1991). These geographers regard current poststructural theory as an unnecessary (and obtuse) abstraction, as word- play unrelated to field and archival research. In some instances, it is hard not to disagree. Poststructural theory in cultural geography and elsewhere occasionally appears to be not only unrelated to the empirical data it seeks to explain, but primarily an exercise in shocking its audience with outrageous language and material. However, I also believe that disciplines are in permanent states of transition. Disciplines, like conversations, must enter new areas, and discover new themes and ideas if they are to avoid stagnation.

If the process of moving on involves much unsuccessful writing, then that is unfortunate. But the attempts to explore new areas are necessary and may ultimately influence the make-up of a discipline. For example, most of the theoretical arguments put forward in support of phenomenology in human geography in the early 1970s are no longer debated. Yet, few geographers would argue that these arguments did not play a critical role in shaping the current practice of cultural geography. The same can be said of arguments promoting ‘scientific’ approaches in behavioural research, or of Sauer’ s earlier comments on the nature and practice of cultural geography. I consequently tried to write as much as possible within the conventions of cultural geography because I wanted to demonstrate that the field can accommodate a rhetorical perspective on landscape. 442

if it was possible to begin again, forgetting all previous attempts to put my ideas onto paper, I would probably aim for a more radical voice, one grounded even more fully within the vocabulary of rhetoric. Such a voice would make for a stronger, more forceful presentation. Still, for this effort, for this material, convention is critical. The reason why Olsson (and to a lesser degree Pred) is unintelligible to many geographers is that he does not address language, in his attempt to break through its ‘ceiling’, as a means of social communication. Like Olsson, I believe that the language one uses affects the nature of one’s observations. But I also believe that one’s rhetoric must accommodate (or blend with) the existing vocabularies and conventions of a discourse community. Otherwise the audience will never recognize, let alone understand, the landscapes set before them.

Notes

1The main tenets of this paper were presented in 1987 at the annual meeting of the Western Division of the Canadian Association of Geographers. See Nelson, R. (1987), “Landscape: A Rhetorical Appraisal of the Truth-Reality Metaphor,” Annual Conference of the Western Division of the CAG, Simon Fraser University.

2Derrida primarily explores the temporal dimension in his analysis of the relationship between language and experience. However, similar arguments can be made for the spatial dimension between language and experience. The basis for such an analysis would be the word presence, whose meaning captures both the temporal and spatial.

3Gregory (1989: 91) has also recently hinted that poststructuralism contains a meta narrative despite its claims to the contrary.

4lnnis’s work had a defmite influence McLuhan. For example, see McLuhan (1960) and Kroker (1984) for a comparison of their ideas. See also Meyorwitz (1985).

5Kroker (1984) and Neil interpret Innis in this way. Neill (1972) writes that the penetrative power of the price-system depends “not only on the economic efficiency of existing means of communication, but also on the ability of the industrial centre to produce more efficient means of communication”. He goes on to suggest that more efficient communication leads to greater divisions of labour, and that this in turn creates the means, and need to improve the communication system since “greater surplus 443

production” demands the expansion of existing markets (quoted in McLuhan 1960: 569).

6j have not been able to verify that the repeal of prohibition in Canada was an attempt to capitalize on American tourism. However, the repeal of prohibition was responsible—in combination with a rise in value of the Canadian dollar, the ‘threat’ posed by the Chicago World’s Fair, and the general decline in tourist traffic during the first years of the Depression—for the first federal report on tourism and for the formation of the Dominion Tourist Bureau (Canada 1934: 21; The Evening Citizen (Ottawa), 26 April 1934, p. 14; Citizen, 22 May 1934, p. 1).

7See also Innis’s essays “Economic Trends in Canadian-American Relations” and “Recent Developments in the Canadian Economy” in Essays in Canadian Economic History (1956), as well as his study of the Canadian Pacific Railway Company (Innis 1971). Innis also comments on the need to develop Nova Scotia’s tourist industry in his contribution to a Royal Commission on the province’s economy in 1934. The objective of the commission was to determine the effect of the federal government’s trade and tariff policies on the province’s economy. Ironically with respect to MacKay’s argument, Innis comments that “While it would be difficult to institute comparisons between scenic spots in Nova Scotia, it is possible to say that certain areas such as the Atlantic shore east and west of Halifax [including Peggy’s Cove] do appear to be less adequately appreciated than the scenic beauty warrants” (1934: 197).

8Part of the difficulty in reading any work of Innis relates to his ability to see connections between a wide mix of phenomena and to his tendency to condense several paragraphs’ worth of ideas into a single sentence. An example of this tendency on the topic of tourism is a passage from Problems in Staple Production in Canada:

The [tourist and liquor traffic] statistics of 1930 and 1931 are possibly over-estimates and the decline suggests, as in the case of wheat, a decrease of capital imports for the construction of roads and hotels, and consequently a cessation of traffic and industry concerned with these permanent developments, and an immediate decline in the tourist trade with a consequent increase in the burden of fixed charges.

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1958 British Columbia: land of Romance; Alluring British Columbia celebrating the first 100 years).

1958 Tourist information on the Parliament Buildings, Victoria, British Columbia.

1959 Sport Fishing in British Columbia, Canada.

1959 Beautiful British Columbia, 1959-present.

1961 Skiing in British Columbia.

1961 British Columbia, Canada: Land of Romance.

1962 Historic Barkerville, the Gold Rush Capital of British Columbia.

1964 Parliament Buildings, Victoria, British Columbia, Canada; a visitor’s guide to the legislative precincts.

1966 British Columbia: The Ideal Place to Live. 449 1966 British Columbia: The Ideal Place to Live, Play, Prosper.

1967 Let’s Stop-Look-and Learn; A List of the “Stop-of-Interest” Signs in British Columbia. n.d, Official Visitor’s Guide to Barkerville, the Gold Rush Capital of British Columbia.

Department of Travel Industry (1967-1977)

1967 This ... is British Columbia, Beautiful British Columbia special editions, B.H, Atkins (ed), v.1-2 Our Natural Heritage, v.3 A Poetic Reflection, v.4 Recipes Through The Years, 1967-78. 1968 Helmcken House.

1968 Golf Beautiful British Columbia.

1968 Thunderbird Park.

1969 The Four Season Vacation Land, Beautiful British Columbia.

1969 Beautiful British Columbia, Autumn, Winter, Spring Vacationland,

1969 Industrial Tours in British Columbia.

1970 British Columbia Festival of Sports May 16-June 1, 1970, Tentative Schedule of Events.

1970 Hand of History — Tour of the Hazelton Area, Highway 16.

1970 Beautiful British Columbia: Ideal Place to live, play and prosper.

1971 Ksan, An Authentic Indian Village, Hazelton, British Columbia.

1971 Look at it this way.

1971 Courtesy is Contagious.

1971 Fly Beautiful British Columbia, a pilot’s guide to the Four Season Vacationland.

1972? Parliament Building, Beautiful British Columbia.

1974 This is British Columbia (a manual for travel counsellors), Book 1: Travel Industry in British Columbia, Book 3, Geography of British Columbia, Book 6, Recreation in British Columbia

1975 The Kootenay Gold Rush.

1975 Superintendent Samuel Steele and the North West Mounted Police in the East Kootenay. 450 1976 Fort Steele in the 1890s.

1976 Ski the Magical Winter Kingdom of British Columbia.

1977 A Memorable Land For Conventions.

1977 The Gulf Islands, various British Columbia’s Agents Manual, Annual.

Ministry of the Provincial Secretary and Travel Industry (1977-1979) 1977 Newsletter, Tourism British Columbia.

1977 British Columbia ... A Priceless Heritage.

1977 The Four Season Vacationland, Beautiful British Columbia. 1978 Tourism Highlights.

1978 British Columbia Stop-of-Interest Plaques Guide.

1978 Discover British Columbia, A Travel Feature from Tourism British Columbia; Number 18, University in the Garden, Bruce Mackenzie.

1978 Discover British Columbia, A Travel Feature from Tourism British Columbia; Number 19, Have Iron, Will Travel, Peter Lowrey.

1978 Discover British Columbia, A Travel Feature from Tourism British Columbia; Number 20, Oldest Park stifi in Bloom of Youth, Jean Mackenzie.

1979 Beautiful British Columbia’s Land of the Thompson. 1979 Recreation and Tourism in the British Columbia Environment, Ministry of Environment. various This is British Columbia, Tourism British Columbia.

Ministry of Tourism and Small Business Development (1979-1981)

1979 Newsletter, Tourism British Columbia.

Ministry of Tourism (1981-1987)

1982 Travel Guide for the Disabled.

1982 The Traveller’s Handbook.

1986 Your Super, Natural British Columbia Travelling Companion, Expo 86 Special Edition.

1986 British Columbia Road Map and Parks Guide. 451 1987 1987 Travel Agent Package Tours. n,d, British Columbia, Mountain Resorts.

Ministry of Tourism, Recreation and Culture (1987-1989)

1987 Your Super, Natural British Columbia Travelling Companion. 1987 The Gold Rush Trail Guide.

1987 Barkerville, 1870’s Gold Rush Town, Beautiful British Columbia. 1987 Convention and Meeting Guide.

1988 Fort Steel, Turn-of-the-Century Town.

1988 Honeymoon guide 1988. 1988 Travel Guide.

1988 Travel Industry Package Guide.

1988 Super, Natural Islands, British Columbia, Canada, Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands.

1988 Super, Natural Saltwater Fishing Adventures.

1989 The Gold Rush Trail Guide. n.d. Outdoor and Adventure Vacations. n.d. Super, Natural Adventure Vacations. n.d. Ski With Us! Super, Natural British Columbia, Canada.

Ministry of Tourism and Provincial Secretary (1989-1992) 1989 Saltwater Fishing.

1989 Freshwater Fishing.

1989 British Columbia Outdoor And Adventure Guide. 1991 Nordic Ski Super, Natural British Columbia.

1992 Cariboo Chilcotin Coast Outdoor And Adventure Guide. 1992 British Columbia Touring.

1992 British Columbia Skiing.

1992 British Columbia Outdoor And Adventure Guide. 452 1992 Follow The Rendezvous Road On The Trail Of ‘42. 1992 British Columbia Freshwater Fishing Vacations.

1992 Southwestern British Columbia Tour And Vacation Guide. 1992 British Columbia Travel Guide. Other Publications

1936 Pacific Travel Monthly.

1937 “British Columbia Calling America!” {on BC Bureau of Public Thformation newspaper advertising campaign); Pacific Travel, publication of the Auto Club of Vancouver and the Vancouver Tourist Association, volume 1, number 7, July 1937.

1940 Advertising Campaign for the promotion of tourist travel, 1940.

1946 B.C.’s Travel Bureau, British Columbia Digest 1: 28-29, October 1946.

1950 See British Columbia, by R.H. Wiffiamson

1963 The Tour of British Columbia Travel Reports to the Prairie Province, May 5th-12th 1963.

1968 “Kla-How-Ya,” The British Columbia Government Tourist Promotion in the Pacific NorthWest, March 4 to 8, 1968.

1968 Cooperative Tourist Promotion, British Columbia Government and Canadian Pacific Air Lines, July-December, 1968.

1969 Here’s Proof that British Columbia’s becoming tourist industry means more business for you.

1969 The Government of the Province of British Columbia Tourism Promotion in the State of California.

1970 The British Columbia Government Spring Tourist Promotions in Cooperation with Canadian Pacific Airlines.

1971 “Showing British Columbia to the World,” International News Media Tour, British Columbia Govermnent and CP Air, June 1971.

1972 The Government of the Province of British Columbia 1972 tourist promotion in the State of California.

1974 The ‘Royal Hudson,’ North Vancouver to Squamish Excursion, An Impact Study.

1974 Tourism means more dollars for you, here’s why . 453 1980 An Introduction to Tour Packaging, TIDSA, Adrian Carney, Linda Giligan-Macket.

1987 Marketing plan: Super, Natural British Columbia, Canada 1987-88.

Canadian Pacific Railway

1876 Description of the country between Lake Superior and the Pacific Ocean, on the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway.

1886 What settlers say of the Canadian North West.

1887 The Canadian Pacific the new highway to the east, across the mountain, prairies and rivers of Canada.

1889 Fishing and Shooting on the Canadian Pacific Railway.

1890 A Scotch farmer’s success in the Canadian North West,

1890 Banff and the Lake in the Clouds in the Canadian Rockies. 1890 The Challenge of the Mountains.

1890 The New Highway to the Orient.

1890 The Province of British Columbia, Canada; its resources, commercial position and climate and description of the new field opened up by the Canadian Pacific Railway with maps and information for intending settlers. British Columbia, the Pacific province of the Dominion of Canada: its position, resources, and climate: new fields for farming, ranching, and mining along the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway: information for intending settlers.

1891 Summer Tours on the Canadian Pacific Railway.

1898 Climates and Health Resorts of Canada, by P.H. Bryce, Secretary of the Provincial Board of Health of Ontario.

1901 A Souvenir of the Visit made by their Royal Highnesses, the Duke and

Duchess of Cornwall and York to Canada ... September and October, 1901.

1901 Banff and the Yoho Valley, in the Canadian Rockies, and the glaciers of the Selkirks, reached by the Canadian Pacific Railway.

1904 Western Canada: Manitoba, Alberta, Assiniboia. 454 1904 Kootenay and Boundary districts of British Columbia, Canada’s most westerly province; position, advantages, resources and climate. New fields for mining, farming, fruit growing, and ranching along the lines of the Canadian Pacific Railway.

1905 The Resources and Climate of the Kootenay, Boundary, and Okanagan districts of fields for farming, fruit growing, ranching, mining, and lumbering along the Canadian Pacific Railway, Calgary.

1906 Southern British Columbia, the garden of Canada. Kootenay, Boundary, and Okanagan districts and Vancouver Island. Brief description of their wonderful natural resources and scenic beauties. Presented by the Canadian Pacific Railway Company to the homeseeker, investor, sportsman and tourist, 1906.

1906 Descriptive Time Table of the Tour of His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur of Connaught, across Canada by the Canadian Pacific Railway, 1906.

1907 Descriptive Time Table of the Tour of General His Imperial Highness, Prince Fushimi, G.C.B. across Canada by the Canadian Pacific Railway, 1907.

1911 Pacific Coast Tours Through the Canadian Pacific Rockies.

1912? The Imperial Highway, by A. N. Homer, London: Sir J. Causton and Sons.

1915 The Canadian Pacific Railway, Frederick A. Talbot. London: A. & C. Black.

1915? Eastern Tours Through the Canadian Pacific Rockies.

1915 Vancouver, B.C. the terminal city, CPR News Service.

1916 A Series of Views illustrating the chief points of interest to be seen on a trip through the Canadian Pacific Rockies.

1919 The Lake District of Southern British Columbia.

1921 Resorts in the Canadian Pacific Rockies.

1921? Vancouver Island, an Island of Enchantment.

1923 Canadian Pacific Railway Bungalow Camps in Canada: {Canadian Pacific Rockies (Betty Thomley); Bungalow Camps in Ontario (Madge MacBeth)

1923? Auto Ferry Service Connecting Bellingham, Vancouver Island, Victoria, Nanaimo, Vancouver City.

1923 What to Wear in the Canadian Pacific Rockies: Walking, Riding, Climbing, Big Game Hunting, by Val A. Flynn. 455 1924? Suggestions for your Summer Vacation to and through the Canadian Pacific Rockies.

1926 Your Journey Through the Canadian Pacific Rockies; what you see and where.... Your Journey Through the Canadian Rockies From Calgary to Vancouver and Victoria.

1926 Circuit Tour: Vancouver Island, a 7 Day Trip.

1929 The Empress Hotel, Victoria, B.C., a Canadian Pacific Hotel. 192-? Canadian Pacific Rockies,

192-? Tours of the Island of 1000 miles of Wonderland.

1930 The Gallery at Banff, Resorts in the Canadian Rockies.

1932 Roads of Adventure Through the Canadian Rockies, Alaska and the Evergreen Playground.

1936 Ski in the Canadian Rockies.

1937 Canadian Pacific Facts and Figures. Compiled and edited by the General Publicity Department.

1937 Through the Canadian Rockies.

1939 The Spirit of Canada, dominion and provinces, 1939; a souvenir of welcome to H.M. King George VI of H.M. Queen Elizabeth.

1940? Alluring Low-Cost All-Expense Tours in the Canadian Rockies.

1942 Canadian Pacific Hotels; from Atlantic to Pacific.

1947 Cruise by Canadian Pacific to Alaska and the Yukon.

1950 The Canadian Pacific Railway company and its contributions towards the early development and to the continued progress of Canada, by Charles Bonar.

1954? Eastward Across Canada by Canadian Pacific, the scenic dome route. n.d. The Vancouver Hotel, Vancouver, B.C. various Canadian Pacific Railway Annual Report. Canadian Pacific Railway Ltd., Montreal. 456 Municipal Tourist Organizations

Vancouver

Vancouver Information and Tourist Association (1902-1921)

1902 The Sunset Doorway of the Dominion, Vancouver, B.C.; what the city offers from business, residential and tourist stand points (1903), a paradise for the tourist and sportsman (1905).

1906 Vancouver, British Columbia, the coming city of Canada.

1906 A Few Statistics of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada: 20th anniversary.

1907 The British Pacific Gateway. British Columbia, the treasure house of Canada, and Vancouver, it’s greatest seaport.

1908 Open Doors; some of the opportunity-creating conditions existing in British Columbia, especially in the city of Vancouver and the fertile Fraser Valley, the garden of the Pacific slope.

1908 Significant Snapshots; a glimpse of building operations now in progress in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada’s great coast city.

1912 Vancouver, British Columbia: “The Liverpool of the Pacific,” facts and figures 1912.

1918 Vancouver: Canada’s Pacific Gateway.

1921? The Romance of Vancouver.

Publicity Bureau of Vancouver (1922-1935)

1923 Beauty Spots at Vancouver, Canada, the lion-guarded city.

1926 Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada’s Evergreen Playground.

1928 Fourteen Days at Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada’s evergreen

playground. V

1928 Vancouver: Canada’s evergreen playground.

1930 A Thousand Facts about Vancouver, British Columbia.

1931 Fourteen Days at Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada’s evergreen playground.

Greater Vancouver Tourist Association (1936-1951)

1936 Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada’s Evergreen Playground. 457 1938 Two Glorious Weeks at Vancouver, British Columbia.

1940? Come to Vancouver, Canada: you’ll want to come again!

1944 If Our Captain Vancouver could only see ... the Vancouver that greet you now.

1947 Popular Guide to Vancouver, British Columbia: scenic gateway to the Pacific, by Leonard Meyers, VTA.

1951? The Greater Vancouver area and the route story by auto: Vancouver to Edmonton, (prepared for UK press tour). Vancouver Tourist Association (1952-1956)

1952 By-laws of the Vancouver Tourist Association.

1952? Come to Vancouver, Canada: where the mountains meet the sea! 1954 Visitor’s Map of Vancouver.

1955 Map of Stanley Park.

1955 There’s a warm welcome awaiting you in Vancouver, Canada where the mountains meet the sea: Canada’s evergreen playground.

1956 Adventure in Vancouver: a day and night guide to Canada’s evergreen playground.

Greater Vancouver Tourist Association (1957-1961)

1958 Historical Tours Around Greater Vancouver.

1958 Discover Vancouver, British Columbia, North America’s most beautiful convention setting.

1959 Constitution and by-laws: approved and adopted, October 21, 1959.

195-? Welcome to Greater Vancouver: gateway to fabulous British Columbia.

Greater Vancouver Visitors and Convention Bureau (1962-1972)

1962? Discover Vancouver, Canada’s most beautiful city.

1962? A Momento of your visit to Vancouver, Canada.

1963 Welcome to the Captain Vancouver Club.

1964 Captain Vancouver’s great voyage of discovery: the Red Ensign.

1965 Vancouver spring festival February 26- March 7, 1965. 458 1965? Historic sites around Greater Vancouver (suggested by Historical Committee of the GVV&CB).

1965? Visitor’s guide to metropolitan Vancouver, British Columbia: sightseeing, entertainment, shopping.

1965? Historical tours around Greater Vancouver: a series of tours with the Historical Committee of the GVV&CB.

1966 Vancouver, Canada, centre of an exciting holidayland.

1968 Vancouver, vol. 1 No. 1 Spring 1968— quarterly.

1969 Captain Vancouver says — don’t miss these special events on Canada’s Pacific Coast.

196-? Photogenic Greater Vancouver: looking for points of interest and good pictures?

196-?3 Memorable tours in the beautiful southwest of British Columbia, Canada. 196-? Vancouver’s Robsonstrassse.

1970? Discover Vancouver.

1972? Vancouver’s Gastown.

1972 Greater Vancouver visitor’s guide, vol. 1 No. 1 Spring 1972-1983 quarterly.

Greater Vancouver Convention and Visitors Bureau (1973)

1973 Vancouver, Canada, a great convention city in a magnificent scenic region.

197- Vancouver’s Robsonstrassse.

1985 Greater Vancouver Convention and Visitor Bureau.

Victoria

Tourist Association of Victoria (1901-1917)

1891 Victoria Illustrated: published under the auspices of the Corporation of the City of Victoria; containing a general description of the province of British Columbia, and a review of the resources, terminal advantages, general industries, and climate of Victoria, the “queen city,” and its tributary country, 1891. 459 1901 Victoria, Past and Present; something about the advantages which the city offers, viewed from business, residential and tourist standpoints; BC Board of Trade.

1902 Guide to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, the holiday seeker’s paradise.

1902 Picturesque Victoria, B.C.; the tourist and commercial City of the Canadian far west.

1902 Victoria, British Columbia, Canada: Tourist Resort of the Pacific NorthWest.

1903 Picturesque Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.

1903? The Delights of a Summer Holiday at Victoria, B.C., the natural recreation ground of the North Pacific Coast.

1903? Seeing Victoria, the Capital of British Columbia, Canada, and the tourist resort of the Pacific North-West, a guide, with map, to the city, suburbs and chief points of interest.

1905 An outpost of Empire,.Victoria, B.C.; the tourist and commercial city of the Canadian Far West. 1909 Vancouver Island, the Land of Opportunity { ...) the sportsman’s, tourist’s and automobiist’s paradise, Vancouver Island Development League.

1910 Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. the Treasure Island: agriculture, timber, mines and fisheries. A history of its resources by districts, Vancouver Island Development League, Victoria Colonist Press.

1910 The Southern most districts, Vancouver Island: Colwood, Metchosin, Sooke, Vancouver Island Development League, Victoria Colonist Press.

1914 Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada: the land of the heart’s desire.

1915 The Georgian Circuit: the wonderful international scenic auto tour of the Pacific Northwest.

1915? Victoria, British Columbia, an Attractive City on the Pacific Coast: the city that is “different.” Victoria and its suffoundings are unlike anything else on the Pacific Coast; “a bit of England on the shores of the Pacific.”

1917? A Guide! Where to go and what to see in and Around the Evergreen City of Victoria. n.d. Victoria, British Columbia: Commercial and Industrial Opportunities. n.d. Victoria, British Columbia, Canada; Tourist Resort of the Pacific NorthWest. 460 Victoria and Island Development Association (1918-1921)

1918 A Guide to Your Wanderings Through the Port of Victoria, B.C., the delightful old-world city on the shores of the Pacific. A tourist’s haven of exceptional charm.

1918? The Call of Victoria: follow the birds to Victoria, B.C. (on back, Victoria, gateway to the ‘island of 1000 miles of wonderland’),

1919 Souvenir Book and Handy Guide to City and District, Victoria, B.C.

1920 Handy Logs of Famous Trips on “the island of a thousand miles of wonderland.”

Victoria and Island Publicity Bureau (1922-)

1922? “Follow the Birds” to Victoria (on back, “lo1low the birds” to Victoria, the capital city of British Columbia). n.d. Follow the Birds to Victoria, B.C.: Victoria, Gateway to the “Island of 1000 miles of Wonderland,” Victoria, B.C., VIPB.

1925 Vancouver Island and Its Holiday Resorts, 1937 Annual Report.

1947? Vancouver Island and its Holiday Resorts.

1959 Facts about Victoria, capital city of British Columbia, VIPB.

1977 Victoria Visitor — Victoria, B.C., Greater Victoria Information Centre

n. d. Victoria, British Columbia, Canada; the Queen of Convention Cities — Victoria, B.C., VIPB. n.d. Seeing Victoria, British Columbia, Canada’s City of Gardens, Gray-line Sight-seeing Co. n.d. Seeing Victoria with Royal Blue Line Tours. n.d. Views of Victoria, British Columbia, the most picturesque city of Canada.

Other State Tourist Bureaus

Alberta

1938 See Alberta first for a real Vacation, the Switzerland of North America. 461 1942 The Alberta Vacation Cruise.

1950 Holiday Guide to Sunny Alberta, Canada.

1959 Alberta, Canada, your vacation paradise where prairies and parkiand meet the Canadian Rockies.

1968? Alberta, Canada’s Princess Province.

1974 Alberta our proud past.

1989 Ski Alberta.

Canada

Department of Interior, Natural Resources Intelligence Service

1923 “Natural Resources Canada,” newsletter of the Department. 1926 Canada as a National Property.

1928 How to Enter Canada: Summary of the Regulations Regarding the entry of automobile’s for touring, pleasure boats, tourists’ outfits and travellers’ baggage.

1929 Vacations in Canada: A handbook of information for Tourists and Sportsmen, 2nd edition. n.d. Canada: Welcomes the tourist as the nation’s guest to this land of beauty, hospitality and prosperity.

Department of Interior, North West Territories and Yukon Branch 1929 Yukon: Land of the Kiondike.

Department of Interior, National Development Bureau 1930 Compact Facts Canada, 4th edition.

1930 Canoe Trips in Quebec. n.d. Canoe Routes to Hudson Bay.

Department of Transport, Canadian Travel Bureau

1935 Canada’s Game Fields: A Brief Description of Canada’s Big and Small Game Resources.

1937 How to Enter Canada: Information for Tourists Crossing the Border. 1937 Canada. 462 1937? Canada, your friendly neighbour invites You.

1938 Sport Fishing in Canada: A Brief Description of Canada’s Game Fish Resources. n.d. Trans-Canada Automobile Trip with Alternative Routes and Mileage Tables. n.d. Canoe Routes to Hudson Bay.

Tourism Canada

1992 Vacation Guide to Canada, Special 125th Birthday Edition.

Others

1986 Oregon, The Official Oregon State Travel Guide.

1986 Oregon, Guide to Oregon, Oregon’s Official Souvenir Book. 1988 Kootenay Country, the Great Escape. 1989 Go and Do Visitor Guide.

1989 Guide to the Good Life, Summer ‘89 - Things to see and do in Reveistoke, B.C. and surrounding area.

1992 Vernon Tourism, Visitors Guide, A Picture Perfect Holiday.

1992 Kelowna British Columbia, Visitor’s Guide, A Natural Choice.

1992 Guide to the North Thompson and Wells Gray.

Adventure and Cultural Brochures

1988 Alberta Adventure Tourism Guide.

1988 Journeys of Discovery, Ecosuinmer Expeditions.

1989 Welcome to Heli-Heaven,Robson Helimagic Inc.

1990 Chemainus, British Columbia.

1990 Save the Wild Side of Vancouver Island,Western Canada Wilderness Committee Educational Report.

1990 Asia, Africa. South America, Overland Expeditions, Put Yourse]f in the Picture, Dragoman.

1990 Wilderness Travel,Wilderness Travel. 463 1990 Open Road Traveller, Your Adventure Holiday Newspaper,Jennings Tours.

1990 Wilderness Adventures, Five Seasons Adventure Tours,

1991 Ecomuseum Heritage Region, Cowichan, Chemainus Valleys Ecomuseum Society.

1991 Wave Length, Paddling Magazine.

1991 Welcome To Our World, Native Heritage Centre.

1992 Journeys of Discovery, Ecosummer Expeditions. 1992 Adventure Spirit.

1992 Black Feather.

1992 Come Sail with Us ..., Pacific Quest Charters.

1992 Discover the Queen Charlotte Islands, Queen Charlotte Islands Chamber of Commerce.

1992 Explore the wild side!, Zucchini Ocean Kayak Centre,

1992 Gentle Adventures for all ages, Mount Robson Adventure Holidays. 1992 Geoff Evans Kayak Centre.

1992 Great Escape Wilderness Canoeing.

1992 REO Rafting Adventures, Nahatlatch River Resort. 1992 Revelstoke Adventures, Grizzly Tours.

1992 River Rafting, Kumsheen Raft Adventures.

1992 Sea Kayak Expeditions, Hakai Lodge.

1992 Sea Quest Expeditions, Zoetic Research.

1992 See B.C. From A Super Natural New Viewpoint, Seaquest Adventure Cruises.

1992 Tofino Expeditions.

1992 West Coast Expeditions.

1992 Wild Heart, Adventure Tours. 464 Heritage Brochures

1981 Edmonton Driving Tour, Alberta Culture.

1984 Nelson, British Columbia, Architectural Heritage Walking Tour.

1987 Architectural Heritage Motoring Tour, Nelson Heritage Advisory Committee.

1987 Cranbrook Heritage Tour, Cranbrook Archives Museum and Landmark Foundation.

1989 A Walking Driving Tour of Fort Macleod’s Historic Downtown and Residential Area, Alberta Culture and Multiculturalism, 1989 Artwalk, City of Nelson.

1989 Edmonton Downtown East Walking Tour, Alberta Culture.

1989 Greenwood, B.C. A Walking Driving Tour.

1989 Heritage Canada Gift Catalogue, The Heritage Canada Foundation.

1989 Historical Driving Tour: Bellevue, Crowsnest Pass, Alberta Culture.

1989 Historical Driving Tour: Blairmore, Crowsnest Pass, Alberta Culture.

1989 Historical Driving Tour: Coleman, Crowsnest Pass, Alberta Culture, 1989 Historical Heritage Wailcing Tour, City of Rossland.

1989 Historical Walking and Driving Tour: Strathcona, Alberta Culture and Multiculturalism.

1989 Red Deer Historical Walking Tour, Alberta Culture.

1989 Take A Walk Through Historic Grand Forks, Boundary Museum.

1989 The Revelstoke Architectural Heritage Walking Tour, B.C. Heritage Trust and City of Reveistoke.

1989 Walk Through Old Strathcona, Old Strathcona Foundation. SECONDARY SOURCES

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Whitbeck, R. (1920), “The influence of Lake Michigan upon its opposite shores, with comments on the declining use of the lake as a waterway”, Aimals of the Association ofAmen can Geographers, 10: 41-55. White, H. (1973), Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins. _(1974), “Structuralism and popular culture”, Journal ofPopular Culture, 7: 759- 775. _(1978), Tropics ofDiscourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. _(1987), The Content ofthe Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. White, H. and Brose, M. (eds) (1982), Representing Kenneth Burke, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Wicke, J. (1988), Advertising Fictions: Literature, Advertisement, and Social Reading, New York: Columbia University Press. Wilkinson, P. (1987), “Tourism in small island nations: a fragile dependence”, Leisure Studies, 6: 127-46. Williams, A. and Zelinsky, W. (1970), “On some patterns in international travel flows”, Economic Geography, 46: 549-67. Williams, M. (1983), “The apple of my eye’: Carl Sauer and historical geography”, Journal ofHistorical Geography, 9: 1-28. Williamson, J. (1978), Decoding Advertisements, London: Marion Boyars. Wilson, C. (1983), “Mass-market magazines and the demise of the gentle reader, 1880- 1920”, in The Culture of Consumption: Critical Essays in American History, 1880- 1980, R. Fox and J. Lears (eds), NY: Pantheon, 39-64. Wilson, D. (1993), “Times and tides in the anthropology of tourism”, Tourism in South East Asia, M. Hitchcock (et al) (eds), London: Routledge, 32-47. Winterowd, R. (1983), “Dramatism in themes and poems”, College English, 45: 581- 588. Wittgenstein, L. (1963), Philosophical Investigations, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 492 Wolfe, R. (1952), “Wasaga Beach: the divorce from the geographic environment”, Canadian Geographer, 2: 57-65.

(1964), “Perspective on outdoor recreation: a bibliographical survey”, The Geographical Review, 54: 203-238. Wood, R. (1984), “Ethnic tourism, the state, and cultural change in southeast Asia”, Annals of Tourism Research, 11: 353-374, _(1993), “Tourism culture and the sociology of development”, in Tourism in South East Asia, M. Hitchcock (et al) (eds), London: Routledge, 48-70. Wright, J. (1924), “Geography in literature”, Geographical Review, 14: 3 19-320. _(1 926), “Homeric geography”, Geographical Review, 16: 669-671. Wynn, G. (1985), “Images of the Acadian Valley’: the photographs of Amos Lawson Hardy”, Acadiensis, 15: 59-83. Youmans, G (1990), “Measuring lexical style and competence: the type-token Vocabulary Curve”, Style, 24: 584-599. Young, M. and Launer, M. (1988), Flights of Fancy, Flight ofDoom: KAL 007 and Soviet-American Rhetoric, Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Yule, G. U. (1944), The Statistical Study ofLiterary Vocabulary, Cambridge University Press.

Zelinsky, W. (1973), The Cultural Geography of the United States, Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall.

Zunn, L. (1990), Place Images in Media, Savage, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield. Zuzanek, J. and Mannell, R. (1983), “Work-leisure relationships from a sociological and social psychological perspective”, Leisure Studies, 2: 327-44. APPENDICES

A = HyperDiction Results: Raw Scores

B = HyperDiction Results: Summary Tables

Bi = Summary of All Samples

B2 = Summary of Periodic Data

B3 = Summary of Data by Author and Period

C = Word Lists

D = Samples of the HyperDiction Interface

Dl = Title Card

D2 = Options Card

D3 = Word List Card

D4 = Sample Text Card

493 Appendix A

This table shows the raw scores from the computerized language analysis. Results are show by period and author. The names of texts are abbreviated, The first part referes to the year of publication while the second is a key word from the title. Full citations are found in the primary source bibliography. Author abbreviations are listed below.

ad = Adventure tourism guides (various authors)

al=Alberta

bpi = British Columbia Bureau of Provincial Information

cg = Canadian Travel Bureau

cpr = Canadian Pacific Railway

gtb = British Columbia Government Travel Bureau

ht = Heritage guides (various authors) V

mt = British Columbia Ministry of Tourism

ot = other authors

vc = Victoria

yr = Vancouver

494 Appendix Al Aristocratic

Style

SampleText Author Sent’s Punct Types Words>7 Number Famil. Certain Qualif. Hyper 1897.manual bpi 22 66 253 81 6 200 8 14 11 1897.manual#2 bpi 19 62 280 84 7 196 6 12 9 1902.today bpi 10 66 269 74 2 191 7 15 16 1903.game bpi 22 71 270 72 11 211 9 9 13 1903.immigration bpi 18 72 279 72 14 198 11 18 13 1905,timber bpi 16 60 270 78 6 182 5 12 8 1905.undeveloped bpi .23 77 268 84 9 182 3 20 8 1906.newBC bpi 18 66 273 80 7 205 5 14 12 1908.albemi bpi 16 67 274 53 8 191 4 8 5 1910.agricukure bpi 17 59 275 99 7 198 6 17 9 1910,fish bpi 19 53 220 55 3 193 7 23 12 1911.columbia bpi 18 70 327 98 4 228 9 18 12 1911.columbia#2 bpi 18 68 280 79 12 197 6 8 6 1911.manual#1 bpi 19 72 273 87 8 195 4 7 7 l9lLmanual#2 bpi 18 71 272 99 5 186 7 8 8 1915.nostagnation bpi 25 72 273 95 4 179 7 10 6 1916.progress bpi 19 65 273 95 6 205 6 8 4 1918.handbook bpi 14 48 281 85 6 185 7 17 9 1918.handbook#2 bpi 21 72 270 109 9 200 4 9 7

1891,summer cpr 18 62 307 77 7 204 4 10 12 1893.fish cpr 18 50 277 79 4 187 8 9 18 1896.orient cpr 15 61 280 64 5 166 8 9 8 1900.bc cpr 14 55 260 78 9 210 4 13 7 1900.bc#2 cpr 16 58 284 75 3 199 2 8 6 1903.banff cpr 17 62 252 69 8 217 5 14 9

1909.challenge . cpr 22 71 277 75 12 215 9 6 6 1911.pacific cpr 20 66 280 104 5 196 11 6 15 1905.outpost vc 24 53 261 95 2 199 4 9 7 1909.gateway yr 29 68 305 107 8 200 16 3 9 1910,annual yr 16 47 255 80 3 205 9 12 4 ____

Appendix Al Aristocratic

Mode of Address Thematic Orientation

Sample Text Author Pers Solid Imp View Invest Active Secure Authen Discover 1897.manual bpi 2 0 5 1 11 5 2 3 2 1897.manual#2 bpi 2 0 4 2 7 6 4 4 2 1902.today bpi 2 0 6 4 10 9 4 6 1 1903.game bpi 3 1 2 0 8 5 1 5 3 1903.immigration bpi 2 1 13 1 2 2 3 6 1 1905,timber bpi 2 0 6 1 4 2 4 0 0 1905undeveloped bpi 0 0 5 0 8 8 5 3 2 1906,newBC bpi 8 0 3 4 10 0 2 2 0 1908.alberni bpi 4 1 1 7 3 6 7 2 2 1910.agriculture bpi 1 0 1 1 8 0 6 5 2 1910fish bpi 0 0 6 0 1 11 1 5 2 191Leolumbia bpi 3 4 8 6 4 10 0 4 2 1911.columbia#2 bpi 0 0 0 0 5 2 7 2 1 1911.manual#1 bpi 0 0 1 1 13 2 7 0 0 l9lLmanual#2 bpi 0 0 2 2 8 12 3 4 5 1915,nostagnation bpi 2 0 7 0 17 12 1 6 0 1916.progress bpi 1 0 2 1 10 4 1 8 1 1918.handbook bpi 0 1 2 0 6 3 2 9 3 1918.handbook#2 bpi 0 0 2 1 6 3 15 0 3

1891.summer cpr 13 0 6 6 1 9 8 4 2 1893,fish cpr 0 0 7 5 0 13 4 2 5 1896orient cpr 10 18 0 1 3 17 8 0 2 1900.bc cpr 0 0 10 7 2 2 11 6 8 1900.bc#2 cpr 2 0 7 5 2 4 9 2 2 1903,banff cpr 0 0 2 3 3 5 20 1 1 1909chal1enge cpr 2 1 15 3 0 9 15 4 1 1911.pacific cpr 0 0 4 3 2 10 6 6 1 1905,outpost vc - 0 0 13 3 11 12 5 7 2 1909,gateway yr 8 2 2 1 13 3 3 6 1 1910,annual yr 0 0 6 3 9 7 6 3 1 Appendix Al Early Mass Syi Sample Text Author Sent’s Punct Types Words>7 Number Famil. Certain Qualif. Hyper 1925.eentre bpi 19 82 284 98 11 171 6 9 2 1926.invites bpi 21 65 275 85 10 179 7 11 4 1926.stopping bpi 27 78 288 84 8 173 11 11 0 1929.camps bpi 26 77 275 108 17 150 12 4 2 1929.playground bpi 19 101 266 100 1 166 1 11 6 1930.manual bpi 24 68 257 113 5 179 2 13 6 1930.tabloid bpi 23 72 279 92 3 182 8 6 5 1930.twiight bpi 19 47 277 74 9 201 0 8 6 1932,highways bpi 22 46 294 94 5 197 6 7 4 1933.alluring bpi 4 75 270 83 4 163 8 4 5 1933.bcc bpi 21 53 290 90 2 177 10 11 1 1933.beautiful bpi 21 66 270 108 0 181 8 4 3 1933.touring bpi 20 59 275 80 10 199 3 5 10

1923.resorts cpr 27 79 283 107 3 178 3 8 6 1924.suggest cpr 19 56 261 79 11 163 8 9 1 1925.wear cpr 29 54 263 68 0 192 4 14 3 1936.ski cpr 12 40 201 42 0 127 6 6 2 1937.through cpr 23 75 288 97 6 176 0 7 6 1940,alluring cpr 30 65 286 79 9 164 11 3 5 1945.journey cpr 27 64 275 82 2 159 8 10 1 1929vacation eg 22 48 268 78 13 187 6 8 5 1930welcome cg 23 58 268 96 2 173 6 5 9 1930yukon cg 24 59 256 73 6 195 6 9 5 1937.invites cg 20 63 316 78 3 175 6 12 2 l937invites2 cg 16 57. 288 102 1 184 3 11 1 1928,days yr 26 76 261 97 12 166 1 3 4 l93Ldays yr 24 55 265 75 10 179 8 14 6 1932,old.que ot 30 81 273 99 0 186 2 10 11 1938,first al 17 105 263 91 11 183 1 5 3 1942.cruise al 26 69 283 75 2 163 5 4 2 Appendix Al - Early Mass

Mode of Address Thematic Orientation

Sample Text Author Pers Solid Imp. View Invest Active Secure Authen Discover 1925centre bpi 3 0 8 3 8 6 7 2 7 1926.invites bpi 4 0 4 0 17 2 9 6 0 1926.stopping bpi 0 0 8 1 1 17 13 0 2 1929camps bpi 0 0 3 2 8 9 30 2 2 1929.playground bpi 0 0 6 2 0 10 7 6 6 193Omanual bpi 0 0 4 6 2 15 8 6 3 1930iabloid bpi 0 2 8 6 2 8 8 5 1 1930.twilight bpi 0 0 2 3 3 3 8 6 5 1932.highways bpi 0 0 6 4 7 2 6 4 0 l93iafluring bpi 0 0 3 3 5 0 2 5 1 1933.bcc bpi 0 0 8 14 3 4 5 1 1 1933.beautiful bpi 0 0 4 11 5 1 2 3 3 1933.touring bpi 0 0 10 1 1 5 10 10 1

1923resorts cpr 0 0 2 1 10 6 10 6 3 1924suggest cpr 5 0 6 3 1 10 8 1 1 1925wear cpr 0 0 10 0 1 11 2 3 0 193&ski cpr 11 0 6 2 2 14 4 2 1 1937through cpr 5 0 1 5 4 16 5 6 0 l94ftalluring cpr 21 0 2 4 0 17 2 5 3 1945.journey cpr 0 0 5 2 7 16 11 1 4 1929,vacation cg 0 0 2 3 1 7 12 5 4 1930.welcome cg 0 0 10 1 6 10 8 9 7 1930.yukon cg 0 0 2 1 2 13 6 5 2 l937invites cg 18 0 9 2 0 31 4 2 2 l937invites2 cg 0 0 16 1 1 11 17 1 5 1928.days yr 1 0 3 8 3 10 15 4 4 l93Ldays yr 3 0 2 4 9 9 6 6 2 1932o1d.que ot 0 0 3 3 8 0 4 11 0 1938 first al 0 0 3 0 7 8 11 3 0 1942.cruise al 15 0 3 7 1 14 6 2 2 Appendix Al Mass Tourism

Style

SampleText Author Sent’s Punct Types Words>7 Number Famil, Certain Qualif. Hyper 1947.alluring gtb 21 60 260 78 6 210 3 6 10 1954.bc gtb 20 65 315 106 3 169 2 8 4 1959.fish gtb 31 79 247 80 16 175 11 12 6 1960.beautiful.bc gtb 32 94 326 110 9 135 3 7 4 1966.beautiful.bc gtb 44 70 273 100 19 127 2 7 9 1966.ideal gtb 24 96 307 118 14 171 4 7 7 1969.aws gtb 31 63 289 101 0 167 7 6 6 1969.4-season gtb 40 65 305 100 11 159 5 5 8 1970.hand gtb 29 65 284 80 13 184 4 9 1 1973.accomm gtb 31 70 246 74 11 183 5 14 8 1974.4-season gtb 26 80 307 129 3 149 5 13 7 1975.magical gtb 44 135 275 80 26 123 5 2 8 1977.convention gtb 36 72 288 80 14 174 8 14 6 1977.gulf gtb 22 79 278 83 3 197 9 11 9 1977.4-season gtb 30 76 278 102 10 163 9 14 5

1950.holiday al 19 57 299 76 5 188 5 6 3 1954east cpr 23 65 268 73 14 178 8 5 3 1959.paradise al 29 50 268 101 5 160 5 10 3 1968.princess al 27 57 301 87 14 167 3 10 7 1974.proud al 19 51 276 95 10 196 2 5 5 1986.oregonl ot 30 63 295 89 4 170 1 8 2 1986.oregon2 ot 23 59 318 99 6 166 8 8 2 1988.kootenay ot 23 95 318 75 5 164 3 5 4 1989.godo ot 33 75 295 74 6 176 4 8 7 1989revel ot 25 49 289 83 21 166 4 7 4 1989.skialta al 29 67 280 80 3 153 8 12 4 1990.parks ot 26 47 303 77 15 173 5 9 5 1992.canada cg 23 54 284 69 10 172 4 5 7 1992.kelowna ot 28 64 291 75 7 174 6 10 11 1992.vernon -- ot 29 59 290 73 4 181 2 9 4 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 9 1 1 0 5 1 6 3 0 3 7 3 5 8 2 3 4 6 3 3 4 4 4 Discover 1 1 5 2 5 5 6 9 2 4 5 1 2 4 7 5 2 2 3 8 4 6 5 8 9 6 4 10 15 11 Authen 1 6 2 3 7 6 9 2 6 5 5 8 6 2 4 2 4 10 10 12 11 16 11 17 13 15 19 10 22 29 Secure Orientation 6 3 8 5 5 9 7 3 3 11 12 15 19 10 13 15 20 16 19 22 17 15 15 20 11 16 13 18 34 24 Active Thematic 1 1 1 4 2 7 2 5 3 4 0 5 1 4 0 0 0 3 5 8 6 4 0 4 3 6 2 4 11 12 Invest Tourism 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 5 0 1 0 3 1 0 2 1 1 4 3 1 1 1 0 5 0 2 4 3 2 2 Mass View Al 1 5 1 1 3 3 2 2 4 3 2 6 0 4 2 9 3 8 4 2 6 8 7 4 2 7 5 7 10 Imp. 13 Appendix Address 1 1 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 3 of Solid Mode 1 0 8 2 7 0 2 3 3 0 4 8 7 7 8 8 0 7 0 3 7 0 0 12 10 12 12 18 10 10 Pers al al al al al ot ot ot ot ot ot ot ot cg gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb gtb cpr Author Text l947a11uring 1954.bc 1959.fish 1960.beautiful.bc 1966.beautifuLbc l966ideal 1969,aws 1969.4-season 1970.hand Sample 1973.accomm 1974.4-season 1975.magical 1977,4-season 1977.convention 1977.gulf 1950.holiday 1954,east 1959.paradise 1974.proud 1986.oregonl 1968.princess 1989.godo 1986.oregon2 1988.kootenay 1989,revel 1989,skialta 1990.parks 1992,canada 1992,vemon 1992.kelowna Appendix Al Postmodern

Style

Sample Text Author Sent’s Punct Types Words>7 Number Famil. Certain Qualif. Hyper 1989.gold mt 24 80 280 66 6 172 3 15 4 1989.gold2 mt 22 84 297 66 5 155 3 9 3 1989.guide mt 38 86 305 73 8 149 2 5 6 1989.outdoor mt 25 51 281 70 3 156 8 9 9 1989.outdoor2 mt 25 82 291 82 7 162 5 10 6 1991.nordic mt 30 97 303 89 6 138 8 4 9 1992.cariboo mt 26 59 311 76 9 153 4 6 8 1992.freshfish mt 21 58 287 90 3 180 5 15 9 1992.outdoor mt 23 72 317 89 6 160 3 8 10 1992.outdoor#2 rnt 23 57 284 79 5 162 4 7 12 1992,rendez mt 30 103 249 91 10 149 7 6 5 1992.ski mt 24 69 301 83 12 155 9 2 5 1992,southwest mt 25 61 305 96 10 161 6 4 10 1992.touring mt 23 79 313 98 15 167 7 10 4 1992.trayel-guide mt 27 85 286 73 4 156 1 10 10

1981.edmonton ht 41 44 262 105 29 167 2 7 2 1984.nelson ht 38 79 268 95 39 169 1 2 2 1987.nelson ht 28 55 309 95 18 177 1 9 6 1987,cranbrook ht 62 53 239 95 61 151 0 5 6 1989.coleman ht 30 61 282 104 20 182 0 2 2 1989,edmonton ht 27 61 265 92 28 173 5 3 1 1989.ft.macleod ht 27 61 263 98 28 199 0 3 1 1989.bellevue ht 30 46 257 80 21 190 1 2 12 1989.greenwood ht 30 50 292 90 27 165 2 9 0 1989.blairmore ht 32 45 235 111 28 172 0 4 3 1989,reddeer ht 33 63 274 100 25 170 1 5 5 1989.rossland ht 34 68 275 80 35 168 2 2 0 1989.revelstoke ht 38 93 271 86 39 160 0 2 2 1989.grandforks ht 39 55 261 95 23 179 1 3 2 1992.ashcroft ht 20 73 276 72 5 177 1 6 3 U,

3 3 3 3 3 8 6 2 2 3 4 7 2 6 8

7 3 8 7 5 9 7 3 7 4 5 7

10

10 12

Hyper

7

0 7 8 8 7 5 7 7 3

7 4 5 4 4 6 7 4 2 6 4 6 7 3

13 16 10 12

11

12

Qualif.

1

3 4 5 5 7 5 2 3 7 2 2 5 5 8 4 3 7 3 5 8 3 7 4 5

11

10 17

11 11

Certain

162 185 167 173 197 166 147 173 175 162 160 177 159 158 167 146 184 151 181 125 146 150 155 162 148 153 130 151 152 148

Famil.

1

3 6 3

7 0 5 1 6 7 8 4 3 5 6 2 8 8 2

11 11 12 10 17 10 15 14 11 18

20

Number

Style

86 83 78 62 63 87 77 77 60 78 99 88 70 70 98 93 87 78 57 77 97 86 62 83 75

Postmodern

114

113 102

115

105

Words>7

Al

281 277 290 304 264 325 264 262 284 313 258 293 291 285 322 225 285 272 284 279 246 291 271 278 280 279 312 294 280 274

Types

Appendix

68 52 69 51 69 60 82 70 62 66 57 51 63 63 64

44 55 77 78 61 70 99 72 91 89 78 60 82

45

71

Punct

18

18 30 28 24 20 19 26 24 25 30 31 31 27 30 24 28 24 38 41 31 30 36 38 33 35 26 45 26 26

Sent’s

ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad ad

Author

coast

seasons

Text

198&ecosummer 1990.chernainus 1988alta-adv 1989.heliski 1990.dragoman 1990.wcwc Sample 1990.wilderness l99Lfive l99Lecomuseum 1991.native

1991.openroad 1991.wcwc 1991.wave 1991,west 1992.black 1992.advspirit 1992.ecosummer 1992.greatescape 1992.gentle 1992.hakai

1992.kayak 1992.queenshisl 1992kumsheen 1992revadv l99ireo 1992.zoetic 1992,seaquest 1992.wildheart 1992.tofino 1992.zucchini Appendix Al Postmodern

Mode of Address Thematic Orientation

SampleText Author Pers Solid Imp. View Invest Active Secure Authen Discover 1989.gold mt 3 1 3 0 2 10 7 3 1 1989.gold2 mt 18 3 6 2 1 17 11 8 4 1989.guide mt 12 0 1 6 4 17 6 7 2 1989outdoor mt 15 9 3 3 0 17 6 5 15 1989.outdoor2 mt 8 10 7 1 2 16 4 4 9 199l,nordic mt 8 8 5 1 1 21 13 4 1 1992.cariboo mt 0 0 16 1 1 10 5 3 3 1992.freshfish mt 3 0 5 0 1 18 5 2 9 1992.outdoor mt 4 0 8 0 3 10 9 9 5 1992.outdoor2 mt 10 1 6 2 3 23 6 1 8 1992.rendez mt 14 24 3 3 0 17 19 16 9 1992.ski mt 4 0 10 0 4 17 3 5 7 1992.southwest mt 6 0 2 3 2 15 11 5 2 1992.touring mt 0 0 10 1 3 12 10 8 6 1992.travelguide mt 17 2 3 4 3 23 6 7 3

1981,edmonton ht 0 0 1 0 2 0 6 8 1 1984,nelson ht 0 0 0 1 5 2 2 11 1 1987.nelson ht 1 0 2 7 8 8 5 15 1987.cranbook ht 0 0 2 0 1 1 17 13 1 1989.coleman ht 0 0 1 1 2 7 3 4 0 1989edmonton ht 0 0 0 0 4 2 11 7 0 1989,ft.macleod ht 0 0 0 0 6 2 8 6 0 1989,bellevue ht 0 0 0 0 4 1 1 17 2 1989.greenwood ht 0 0 1 0 5 6 6 7 0 1989.blairmore ht 0 0 3 1 5 3 5 6 1 1989.reddeer ht 0 0 5 1 3 0 3 6 2 1989ross1and ht 1 0 0 1 2 0 14 5 1 1989.revelstoke ht 1 0 1 0 2 2 12 5 1 1989.grandforks ht 6 0 0 2 4 3 4 9 0 1992,ashcroft ht 12 2 3 1 1 18 10 8 0 Appendix Al Postmodern

Mode of Address Thematic Orientation

Sample Text Author Pers Solid Imp. View Invest Active Secure Authen Discover 1988.alta-adv ad 19 5 5 4 1 20 4 5 7 1988,ecosummer ad 5 5 10 3 2 7 12 8 8 1989.heliski ad 17 9 0 0 1 8 3 3 4 1990.chemainus ad 13 9 3 0 9 20 9 8 2 1990.dragoman ad 3 18 4 1 1 12 3 10 5 1990.wcwc ad 4 7 3 1 7 1 3 8 7 1990.wilderness ad 1 9 4 1 3 11 7 10 9 l99Lecomuseum ad 3 7 4 3 10 20 4 9 6 1991,five seasons ad 6 12 3 3 0 18 6 7 6 l99Lnative ad 23 10 4 3 0 14 1 12 5 1991.openroad ad 7 12 1 1 1 10 6 1 5 1991.wave ad 5 9 1 0 2 5 11 3 2 1991,wcwc ad 4 5 2 2 6 1 7 7 14 1991.west coast ad 8 4 6 0 3 14 10 9 16 1992.advspirit ad 8 2 5 3 4 23 5 16 27 1992.black ad 20 2 11 4 2 11 3 12 12 1992.ecosummer ad 4 3 4 2 0 11 4 9 8 1992.gentle ad 19 8 5 3 1 17 8 3 15 1992,greatescape ad 11 9 2 2 0 29 4 8 15 1992,hakai ad 4 7 4 1 1 6 9 8 6 1992.kayak ad 20 10 0 4 1 10 1 5 0 1992.kumsheen ad 13 15 6 2 0 14 5 2 2 1992.queenchisl ad 12 1 4 0 7 23 15 7 4 l99ireo ad 4 7 2 0 1 8 4 1 6 l99irevadv ad 13 8 3 6 2 16 6 4 10 1992.zoetic ad 18 12 12 0 1 10 2 5 6 1992.seaquest ad 28 3 4 5 1 20 2 3 10 1992.tofino ad 2 9 3 2 3 18 7 16 8 1992,wildheart ad 6 19 1 2 1 11 3 7 12 1992.zucchini ad 9 13 12 2 0 15 4 5 7 Appendix Bi Summary of All Samples

Government Sample All Samples (N=62) (N=15O

Standard Standard Word Lists Mean deviation Minimum Maximum Mean deviation Minimum Maximum

Sentences 23.6 7.1 4 44 25.5 7.6 4 62 Punctuation 71.6 14.9 46 135 66.9 14.4 40 135 Types 281.7 19.9 220 327 279.8 20.6 201 327 Word Length 87.5 14.6 53 129 86.0 14.5 42 129 Numbers 7.8 4.8 0 26 9.5 8.7 0 61 Familiarity 175,8 21.7 123 278 173.6 19.9 123 228 Certainty 5.8 2.7 0 12 5.2 3.2 0 17 Qualification 9.8 4.5 2 23 8.2 4.1 0 23 Hyperbole 7.8 3.1 1 16 6.7 3.6 0 18

Personal 3.7 4.6 0 18 5.2 6.2 0 28 Solidarity 1.2 3.6 0 24 2.4 4.5 0 24 Impersonal 4.6 3.2 0 16 4.5 3.5 0 16

View 2.2 2.6 0 14 2.2 2.2 0 14 Investment 4.8 4.0 0 17 3.8 3.5 0 17 Activity 9.7 6.5 0 23 10.6 7 0 34 Security 7.4 6.1 0 30 7.2 5.2 0 30 Authenticity 4.6 2.9 0 16 5.5 3.5 0 17 Discovery 3.1 3.0 0 15 3.7 4.0 0 27 Appendix B2 Summary Periodic Data

Aristocratic Early Mass Tourism (N=30) (N=30)

Standard Standard Word Lists Mean deviation Minimum Maximum Mean deviation Minimum Maximum

Sentences 183 3.7 10 29 22.0 5,4 4 30 Punctuation 63.7 7.9 47 77 66.4 15 40 105 Types 274.0 18.5 220 327 273.3 18.8 201 316 WordLength 82.7 14.0 53 109 87.6 14.9 42 113 Numbers 6.7 3.0 2 14 5.8 4,7 0 17 Familiarity 197.4 12.4 166 228 176.0 15.4 127 201 Certainty 6.7 2.9 2 16 5.5 3.4 0 12 Qualification 11.5 4.7 3 23 8.1 3.3 3 14 Hyperbole 9.2 3.5 4 18 8.0 4.0 1 18

Personal 2.2 3.3 0 13 2.9 5.7 0 21 Solidarity 1.0 3.3 0 18 0.1 0.4 0 2 Impersonal 4.9 3.9 0 15 5.3 3.5 1 16

View 2.4 2.2 0 7 3.4 3,2 0 14 Investment 6.2 4.4 0 17 4.2 3.9 0 17 Activity 6.4 4.4 0 17 9.5 6.5 0 31 Security 5.7 4.7 0 20 8.2 5.6 2 30 Authenticity 3.8 2.4 0 9 4.3 2.7 0 11 Discovery 1.9 1.7 0 8 2.4 2.1 0 7

C Appendix B2 (continued) Summary Periodic Data

Mass Tourism Postmodem Tourism (N=30) (N=6O

Standard Standard Word Lists Mean deviation Minimum Maximum Mean deviation Minimum Maximum

Sentences 28,2 6.5 19 44 29.3 7.5 18 62 Punctuation 69,4 17.9 47 135 67.5 14.6 44 103 Types 288,4 19.9 246 326 281.7 21.2 225 325 WordLength 88.2 15.1 69 129 86.6 14.2 57 115 Numbers 9.6 6.1 0 26 12.8 11.6 0 61 Familiarity 169.0 18.9 123 210 163.1 14.7 125 199 Certainty 5.0 2.5 1 11 4.4 3.4 0 17 Qualification 8.4 3.1 2 14 6.4 3.6 0 16 Hyperbole 5.6 2.5 1 11 5.4 3.2 0 12

Personal 5.6 4.8 0 18 7.6 7.1 0 28 Solidarity 0.5 1.0 0 4 5.2 5.7 0 24 Impersonal 4.5 3.1 0 13 3.9 3.5 0 16

View 1.6 1.4 0 5 1.8 1.8 0 7 Investment 3.6 3.1 0 12 2.6 2.3 0 10 Activity 13.5 7.1 3 34 11.7 7.3 0 29 Security 9.1 6.6 1 29 6.6 4.0 1 19 Authenticity 5.2 3.3 1 15 7.1 3.9 1 17 Discovery 3.1 2.4 0 9 5.6 5.3 0 27

cM U’ 00 8 7 7 12 16 14 18 13 18 15 29 13 17 71 20 107 307 217 Maximum 1 2 1 2 3 0 0 4 0 0 2 3 0 14 64 47 166 252 Presentations Minimum (N=lfl Tourism 1.9 3.0 4.5 7.6 3.3 4.0 4.8 5.4 4.2 4.7 5.1 2.3 4.6 2.2 4.6 18.4 13.9 14.1 Standard deviation Other 19 1.9 6.1 9.0 9.2 3.2 7.3 6.5 8.3 8.6 3.6 3.7 2.4 4.2 59.4 82.1 Mean Data 199.8 276.2 B3 Aristocratic 8 4 7 5 9 14 11 16 13 17 25 12 15 77 23 109 228 327 Appendix Maximum Summary 1 2 3 0 7 0 0 4 0 0 0 0 0 Information 10 53 48 179 220 Minimum (N=19) Provincial of 1.0 3.4 1.3 3.0 7.2 2.0 3.2 2.0 4.8 3.2 3.9 3.9 3.5 2.1 2.6 18.9 11.5 14.4 Standard deviation Bureau 1.7 1.7 1.7 6.4 7.0 9.2 0,4 4.0 7.4 5.4 3.9 3.9 18.5 13.0 83.0 66.2 Mean 196.0 272.0 Lists View Types Length Activity Security Personal Certainty Numbers Solidarity Sentences Discovery Hyperbole Familiarity Investment Word Impersonal Punctuation Authenticity Qualification Word Appendix B3 (continued) Summary Early Mass Tourism Data

Bureau of Provincial Information Other Tourism Presentations (N=13 (N=17)

Standard Standard Word Lists Mean deviation Minimum Maximum Mean deviation Minimum Maximum

Sentences 20.5 5.6 4 27 23.2 5.1 12 30 Punctuation 68.4 15.2 46 101 64.9 15.1 40 105 Types 276.9 10.3 257 294 270.5 23.2 201 316 WordLength 93.0 11.9 74 113 83.4 15.9 42 107 Numbers 6,4 4.7 0 17 5.4 4.7 0 13 Familiarity 178.3 14.7 150 201 173.5 16.1 127 195 Certainty 6.3 3.8 0 12 4.9 3.0 0 11 Qualification 8.0 3.2 4 13 8.1 3.5 3 14 Hyperbole 7.8 3.7 4 13 8.2 4.3 1 18

Personal 0.5 1.3 0 4 4.6 7.1 0 21 Solidarity 0.2 0.6 0 2 0.0 0.0 0 0 Impersonal 5.7 2.5 2 10 5.0 4.1 1 16

View 4.3 4.1 0 14 2.8 2.3 0 8 Investment 4.8 4.5 0 17 3.7 3.4 0 16 Activity 6.3 5.3 0 17 11.9 6.5 0 31 Security 8.8 7.0 2 30 7.7 4.4 2 17 Authenticity 4.3 2.7 0 10 4.2 2.8 1 11 Discovery 2.5 2,3 0 7 2.4 2.0 0 7 Appendix B3 (continued) Summary Mass Tourism Data

Goverment Travel Bureau Other Tourism Presentations (N=15) (N=15)

Standard Standard Word Lists Mean deviation Minimum Maximum Mean deviation Minimum Maximum

Sentences 30.7 7.7 20 44 25.7 4.1 19 33 Punctuation 77,9 19.0 60 135 60.8 12.1 47 95 Types 285.2 23.8 246 326 291.7 15.2 268 318 Word Length 94.7 16.8 74 129 81.7 10.2 69 101 Numbers 10.5 6.9 0 26 8.6 5.2 3 21 Familiarity 165.7 24.4 123 210 172.3 10.8 153 196 Certainty 5.5 2.7 2 11 4.5 2.2 1 8 Qualification 9.0 3.8 2 14 7.8 2.2 5 12 Hyperbole 6.5 2.4 1 10 4.7 2.4 2 11

Personal 4.4 3.9 0 12 6.9 5.4 0 18 Solidarity 0.4 0.7 0 2 0.7 1.3 0 4 Impersonal 3.3 2.2 0 9 5.6 3.5 1 13

View 1.6 1.5 0 5 1.7 1.4 0 5 Investment 4.1 3.5 0 12 3.1 2.5 0 8 Activity 11.5 6.3 3 22 15.5 7.5 3 34 Security 9.7 7.8 1 29 8.5 5.4 2 19 Authenticity 4.5 2.7 1 10 5.9 3.8 1 15 Discovery 2.8 2.8 0 9 3.3 2.0 1 8

LI Appendix B3 (continued) Summary Postmodern Tourism Data

Ministry of Tourism Heritage Tourism Postmodem Tourism (N=15) (N=15) (N=30)

St. St. St. Word Lists Mean dev. Mm Max Mean dev. Mm Max Mean dev. Mm Max

Sentences 25.7 4.3 21 38 34,0 9.5 20 62 28.7 6.6 18 45 Punctuation 74.9 15.5 51 103 60.5 13.5 44 93 67.3 13.3 44 99 Types 294.0 17.3 249 317 268.6 18.4 235 309 282.1 21.0 225 325 WordLength 81.4 10.5 66 98 93.2 10.4 72 111 84.0 16.2 57 115 Numbers 7.3 3.4 3 15 28.4 12.4 5 61 7.6 5,3 0 20 Familiarity 158.3 10.1 138 180 173.3 11.7 151 199 160.3 16.0 125 197 Certainty 5.0 2.4 1 9 1.1 1.3 0 5 5.8 3.5 1 17 Qualification 8.0 3.8 2 15 4.3 2.5 2 9 6.7 3.5 0 16 Hyperbole 7.3 2.8 3 12 3.1 3.1 0 12 5.6 2.8 2 12

Personal 8.1 6.0 0 18 1.4 3.3 0 12 10.3 7.3 1 28 Solidarity 3.9 6.7 0 24 0.1 0.5 0 2 8.3 4.4 1 19 Impersonal 5.9 4.0 1 16 1.3 1.5 0 5 4.3 3.2 0 12

View 1.8 1.8 0’ 6 1.0 1.8 0 7 2.0 1.6 0 6 Investment 2.0 1.3 0 4 3.6 2.0 1 8 2.4 2.7 0 10 Activity 16.2 4.3 10 23 3.7 4.7 0 18 13.4 6.6 1 29 Security 8.1 4.2 3 19 7.1 4.7 1 17 5.6 3.4 1 15 Authenticity 5.8 3.7 1 16 8.5 3.9 4 17 7.0 3.9 1 16 Discovery 5.6 4.0 1 15 0.7 0.7 0 2 8.1 5.4 0 27

UI 512 Appendix C HyperDiction Word Lists

STYLE twenty over Number (alpha) two so that Familiarity eight the eighth a this eighty about to fifth also was fifty were first which five and with forty are four as fourth Certainty hundred be last been always nine but any ninetey by anyone ninth for anytime one from anhere second had certainly seven has clearly seventh have defmite seventy defmitely six defmitive sixth into each is entire ten it eveiy tenth not everybody third everyone on everything thousand or everywhere three 513 indisputable much bigger indisputably nevertheless biggest least nonetheless celebrated never perhaps distinguished no rather excellence none seem excellent nothing seemed extreme(ly) only seems fame undoubtedly should famed unquestionably some famous whole somebody fantastic yes someday finer somehow finest someone foremost Qualification something grand *about sometime grandeur •one sometimes grandly actually somewhat great aimost somewhere greater although tend greatest believe tends greatly believed think higher could thinks highest feel though ideal felt usual imposing few usually incomparable generally whether incomparably however would large largely larger many largest Hyperbole may magnificent(ly) maybe attractive(ly) majestic(ly) might beautiful(ly) marvellous(ly) most best matchless mostly big perfect(ly) 514 remarkable your *those remarkably yours *who renowned yourself spectacular(ly) yourselves *whose stately adventurer(s) striking(ly) angler(s) Solidarity stupendous(ly) canoeist(s) *sublinle(ly) our superb(ly) ours climber(s) superior ourself explorer(s) superlative(ly) ourselves fisherman unequalled us fishermen unparalleled we’d guide(s) unsurpassed we’ll hilcer(s) wondefful(ly) we’re host(s) we’ve hunter(s) kayaker(s) MODES OF we motorist(s) ADDRESS operator(s) Personal Impersonal outfitter(s) people *he I’d public(s) *her I’ll sailor(s) *herself I’m settler(s) I’ve skier(s) I spectator(s) *his me sportsman *one’s mine sportsmen *one my tourist(s) *oneself myself traveler(s) *she you’d traveller(s) *thefr you’ll vacationer(s) *them you’re vacationist(s) *themselves you’ve visitor(s) *they you 515 voyager(s) productive Invest progress progressive THEMATIC advantageous prospective ORIENTATION agricultural agriculture rights View benefit settler benefits settlers aesthetic(s) capital speculate appearance(s) capitalist speculator aspect(s) city speculators contour(s) community timely esthetic(s) energy town eye(s) extensive horizon(s) Activity favorable landscape(s) future activity lookout(s) grow attend outlook(s) growth bathe (ing) panorama(s) homesteader boating pastoral immigrant browse (ing) perspective(s) immigrants camp (ing) picture(s) industrial challenge picturesque indus climb (ing) prospect(s) invest come scenery investor cruise (ing) scene(s) investors dine (ing) scenic invests drive (ing) seascape(s) labour eat (ing) sight(s) land enjoy (ing) sublime logging experience (ing) sublimity mining explore (ing) view(s) opportune find (ing) visible opportunity fish (ing) vista(s) opportunities fly (ing) population follow (ing) potential game 516 golf (ing) regulation Security hear (ing) regulations hunt (ing) accommodation restaurant look (ing) accommodations restaurants motor (ing) automobile road notice automobiles room observe berth rooms pass border routes pay cabin service play (ing) cabins south ride (ing) souvenir run (ning) car souvenirs sail (ing) convention supplies scout direction tackle see (ing) distance trdifl shop (ping) east trains sightsee (ing) food unit ski (ing) fuel visa sport (ing) gas visas stay (ing) highway west step hotel stop (ping) hotels study Authenticity hwy taste (ing) information ancestral tent (ing) kilometres ancient tour (ing) antique travel (ing) lodges artifact(s) try (ing) management aura visit (ing) manager authentic walk (ing) miles beauty watch (ing) motel century motels character north characteristic plane characteristically planes classic 517 classical substance natural culture time nature cultured traditional out-of-the-way true outback different truth pathless distinct unique preservation distinctive Victorian preserve distinguished year(s) pnmeval Edwardian primitive essence pristine Discovery heart private heritage aboriginal protected historic adventure rare fflsto alternative refuge mood biological remote nature biology secluded old challenge species olden conservation trackless older conserve trek oldest deserted uncultivated origin discover unihabiteci original discovery unihabited originally distant unknown originated diverse unspoiled past diversit3r untouched pioneer eco variety present ecology watershed preserved ecosystems wild pristine endangered wilderness qualities environment wildlife quality inaccessible rare interior relic isolated soul limited native Appendix D

Examples of the HyperDiction Interface

Dl = Title Card

D2 = Options Card

D3 = Word List Card

D4 = Sample Text Card

518 Fig. DL Title Card EHport

Words 500 Sample ® Liststeb ®Consecutive ‘ 1 0 Random A QText ® Puochiation ./,; :][—)(()_.!?““ Lists Frequenctj > 2 o Frequency• KWIC(chars) 30 o HomographTags • o Edited $1 234567890 Numbers o Original Word Length A 4 B

• .2.rendez 1960.beautifuLbc personal personal 1992.freshfish 1966.beautifu1bc ‘“iidaritij solidaritij 1992.ski impersonal I -. rsona1 1992.touring -. cation qualification 1930.twiiight certaintLj mty

All [Updeti[

Fig. D2. Options Card

t’3 Fig. D3. Word List Card (1 File: Ross—3:Guides:advepture:1 992.ecosummer Card name: 1992..ecosummer racters: 31 44 Words: 515 Iir 7 i: KWIC Edited [ptions I Lists

iieworld of see kayeking The popularity of sea kayeking has blossomedsince the mid 70’s when we pioneered expeditions on the west coast using these marvellous craft. Their sleek but seaworthy designs make them ideal for exploring L New coastlines worldwide. The see kayak provides.a respite for the weary j Import knees end backs of trekkers, opens up a new peddlingworld for canoeists Name end creates exciting new horizons for nature buffs end photographers. L Thejoysofsee kayekingareendless. Thesilencecoincideswiththe Delete pursuit of wilderness and you have an intimacy with water conditions, as like a seabird, youfeel every ripple, yet, their design lets even

6:54... 6/21 /‘;,_ Test 500 9 sea 3entences 24 6 trip Export Punctuation 44 6w111 T..... 284 4 kayeking

Fig. D4. Sample Text Card UI