The Persuasive Essay in Functional Perspective

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
Los Angeles
The Persuasive Essay
In Functional Perspective
A thesis submitted in partial satisfaction of the
Requirements for the degree Master of Arts in
Teaching English as a Second Language
By
Denise Therese Perez
1997

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To My Mother and My Husband,
Who made it possible.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
DEDICATION………………………………………………………….. iii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS…………………………………………….. vii
ABSTRACT…………………………………………………………….viii
Chapter
1. INTRODUCTION…………………………………………………….. 1
Context of the Problem…………………………………………. 1
Research Questions……………………………………………... 1
Rationale………………………………………………………... 2
Relevance to TESL……………………………………………... 3
Methodology……………………………………………………. 6
2. LITERATURE REVIEW…………………………………………….. 9
One Genus, Many Species…………………………………….. 10
A Brief History of the Confusion
Between Modes versus Aims
of Discourse…………………………………………………… 13
Persuasion: A Social Semiotic Perspective……………………17
Kinneavy’s Aims of Discourse………………………………... 21
3. DATA ANALYSIS………………………………………………….. 32
Part I: Persuasive Genres ……………………………………32
Advertisements………………………………………. 36

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Letters to the Editor………………………………….. 41
Letters to Constituents………………………………. 47
Editorials……………………………………………...50
Feature Story ………………………………………... 58
Speeches……………………………………………... 60
Journal Articles……………………………………….58
Summary of Text Characteristics……………………. 72
4. DISCUSSION……………………………………………………….. 80
From Pathos to Logos………………………………………… 80
Persuasive Texts………………………………………………. 80
Charge to the Reader vs. Thesis………………………………. 87
Means of Persuasion: Back to Pathos
and Logos……………………………………………. 88
Generic Variation: Optimal versus
Obligatory Elements………………………………… 89
Contextual Factors:
The Rhetorical Square………………………………. 92
Exposition versus Explanation………………………………... 95
Support and the Expository Essay…………………………… 101
Formal Logic………………………………………………… 101
5. CONCLUSION……………………………………………………. 104
Persuasion and Academic Discourse………………………….104
Components of Persuasion: A Summary……………………. 107
Generic Structure Potential of Academic Essays……………. 108
Predictability………………………………………………… 109

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The Undergraduate Persuasive Essay:
Is It Really a Genre?…………………………………… 111
“Real” Academic Genres…………………………………….. 114
The Undergraduate Persuasive Essay ……………………...... 117
Kinneavy’s Value in Current Rhetorical Theory ………….… 117
Kinneavy Revisited and Revised …………………………… 118
Kinneavy’s Original Aims of Discourse……………………...119
Katherine Rowan’s Amendments……………………………. 120
A New Schema………………………………………………. 121
Dominant Function: A Caveat………………………………. 122
Teaching Strategies: A Final Word…………………………. 123
6. REFERENCES…………………………………………………….. 126

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to express my sincere appreciation to all four members of my committee:
Dr. Marianne Celce-Murcia, Ms. Christine Holten, Dr. Charles Batten, and Dr. Assif Agha.
In particular, my gratitude goes out to the chair of my committee, Dr. Marianne Celce-
Murcia, for her unfailing patience, support and guidance. Not only has Dr. Celce Murcia given
me unique insights into writing theory as seen from a discourse perspective, her wisdom and
dedication to this project have made me a better writer. I would also like to thank Christine
Holten and Professor Batten for their extraordinary encouragement, and Professor Agha for his
much valued participation in my project.

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ABSTRACT OF THE THESES
The Persuasive Essay
in Functional Perspective
by
Denise Therese Perez
Master of Arts in
Teaching English as a Second Language
University of California, Los Angeles, 1996
Professor Marianne Celce-Murcia, Chair
Introducing college-level ESL students to the genre of the persuasive essay is, by all
accounts, a crucial task (Connor & McCagg, 1983; Purves & Purves, 1986; and Spack, 1988). It
is also a difficult one, given that no one has yet performed a definitive anatomy of this genre
(Peters, 1986). Because there is no one universal, agreed upon structure to pass on to students,
instructors have traditionally been limited when it comes to teaching persuasive writing. In
general, they seem to take one or two approaches: reduction of the genre into easily acquired
formulae, or instruction through models. Both of these methods, however, bring with them some
problems. In terms of the first approach, breaking down the persuasive essay into its basic

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components, students are usually taught the following skeletal elements: claim, three supports,
and counter-argument (c.f. Yarber, 1985; and Axelrod and Cooper, 1991). One may well ask,
however, whether any such essay structure exists in the real world. The other alternative,
teaching students through models, is also problematic. On the basis of what criteria, for
example, can we decide whether a model is “good”; how can students distill, from the
hodgepodge of essay styles found in typical readers, the “essential” elements which go into
successful persuasive writing? Then there are issues of context. As Kynell (1992) rightly asks,
is the use of professional writing excerpts as examples of specific rhetorical modes really wise,
given that the original models were not written with that intention (7)? Rousculp & Welsh
(1992) among many others echo this concern (3). Finally, one must ask whether the persuasive
essays students are required to write in the Academy share the same basic generic structures as
the mostly non-academic persuasive models they are asked to imitate. This study will attempt to
provide at least tentative answers to these questions. Specifically, in what follows, I will attempt
to lay forth a generic structure potential for the academic persuasive essay, indicating, as far as
possible, both optional and obligatory elements. In my conclusion I will contend that, while the
Halliday/Hasanian framework of functional analysis (Halliday & Hasan, 1989) is not
incompatible with written genres such as the persuasive essay, other paradigms, most notably
Kinneavy’s model of discourse (somewhat modified), can better aid our understanding, and
hence our ability to teach, persuasive writing.

Chapter 1
INTRODUCTION
Context of the Problem
In a recent discussion about the newly annotated bibliography, Research in the
Teaching of English (RTE), Russell K. Durst, co-author of the document, noted the need for
more studies of written text structure. Looking towards pedagogical application in composition
classes, Durst (1990) writes: “We . . . need more studies looking not just at types of writers . . .
but at types of writing, or genres . . . so that we can learn more about the kinds of text structures
writers use,” (400). This demand for more information about written discourse genres coincides
with a new focus on generic structure in general in certain schools of functional grammar, that of
Halliday and Hasan (1989) being chief among them. By studying the academic persuasive essay
from a functional perspective, I seek to accomplish two things: a) to uncover more precise
information relative to a fundamental Anglo-American text structure, and b) to sound the depths
and test the limits of one very important genre-based functional grammar theory.
Research Questions
More specifically, this study will attempt to answer the following questions:
1. Given that the function of the persuasive essay is to sway the reader, how is this
accomplished in academic versus non-academic contexts? Can one use a contextual
configuration to predict an essay’s macrostructure?

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2. What is the generic structure potential (GSP) of the academic persuasive essay? What
are its salient features? Which of these are optional, which obligatory to the
configuration of this genre?
3.
4. Can answers to the above questions help ESL teachers instruct students more effectively
in a module requiring them to write a persuasive essay?
Rationale
Halliday and Hasan (1989) have put forth an exciting new paradigm by which to study
discourse genres. They take up the notion that genres are a product of social and cultural
experience, and use it as one of the chief motivations for their work. While their research has
largely been focused on spoken discourse, their ideas, it would seem, hold at least as much
promise for discovering the structures of written texts. Scholars are just beginning to become
aware of this promise. Swales (1990), for instance, drawing in large part on the work of Halliday
a) Given the broad goal of persuasive rhetoric, is it indeed possible to determine a
GSP for the academic persuasive essay? If not, how does this affect the notion
of genre analysis?
b) Is the academic persuasive essay really a genre? Or does it entail several
genres? If so, what are they?

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and Hasan, has put forward a brilliant functional analysis of the scientific research report.
Conrow (1992), in a less massive endeavor, has had similar success in applying
Halliday/Hasanian principles to her study of the genre of the critical review. For this present
project, I am interested in seeing whether Halliday and Hasan’s framework, based on their work
in 1989, might shed some light on the persuasive essay, a perhaps less well defined genre of
written discourse.
Relevance to TESL
According to Halliday (1989), most L1 discourse conventions, i.e., tone, register,
organizational models, etc., are assimilated without instruction through culture. “[T]hey . . .
have to be learnt, of course,” says Halliday, “but – like walking and running – they are learnt
young and without the benefit of instruction,” (xv). Those who are not native to a culture can
most often pick up spoken discourse conventions with practice, given the pervasiveness of
accessible oral models. In the case of written discourse, however, the situation is different. The
intricate communicative codes unique to written texts are less accessible, less ‘in the air,’ than
oral forms; they also, in many cases, differ in aim, audience variables and in grammatical
structure. Briefly, one may say that written discourse differs from its oral counterpart in four
ways. It differs in 1) sentence level structure – written structures are often more nominalized,
hence more cognitively difficult to process than oral discourse structures, (see Halliday, 1989);
2) audience – the audience of written texts dos not share the same time or space as the writer of
the text, often leaving the novice writer with only a vague, unclear notion of her readers (Peters,
1986); 3) purpose – written discourse most often serves different purposes than spontaneous
speech (Purves & Purves, 1986); and, finally, 4) written organizational patterns – written

4
conventions, that is, genres, tend to be unique, having few parallels in the spoken realm
(Halliday, 1989).
The first two of these four differences seem to arise due to differing cognitive variables.
That is, since one’s audience is displaced in time and space in a written context, it follows that
one must use more explicit nominal references as well as more logical connectors in order to
help a distant interlocutor comprehend one’s message. It thus seems necessary in written
discourse to compensate for the lack of prosodic and non-verbal communicative signals normally
available to speakers expressing themselves through verbal channels. With regard to the last two
of the differences mentioned, however, these seem to be more culturally determined. As Purves
& Purves (1986) note, it is “culture” which in the end “establishes standards for ‘good writing,’
and all that that phrase entails with respect to orthography and penmanship, diction, syntax,
grammar, structure, genre and format,” (p. 193, italics mine).
Thus, it seems clear that the rhetorical situation characteristic of written discourse
differs vastly from what one finds in the oral realm. Rarely for example in the spoken realm,
would one find a student pretending to speak to a congressman, when in reality she is speaking
only to her teacher. This rhetorical situation however is very common in an undergraduate
writing classroom in the performance of a typical persuasive essay assignment. Freedman
(1996), for her part, characterizes just this sort of decontextualized discourse as “epistemic” in
nature. “Ultimately,” Freedman states,
I argue that the social action undertaken in [law school] writing is
typical of that undertaken in much school writing, in that its purpose
is epistemic – not in the sense of producing knowledge new to the
reader, but rather in the specialized sense of enabling its writer to see
and interpret reality in new ways; in that these ways are the ways of
currently constituted communities of scholars, the purpose of, and the
action undertaken in, such writing is social and cultural as well. (92)

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Thus, the reality, both in Academia and in the ‘outside world’ seems to be as Halliday
(1989) suggests, specifically, that the very act of writing can and does change the rhetorical
situation fundamentally, creating not only new contexts and new rhetorical challenges for the
writer, but also new genres.
The net result of these basic, if sometimes subtle, differences between oral and written
discourse is that the latter must for the most part, and to most novice writers, be explicitly taught,
both to L1 and L2 speakers. While it is true, as Hairston (1986) claims, that the elements of
persona, purpose and message may in some cases change little whether one speaks or writes, we
can see in the above case of undergraduate level academic writing that this is not always the
case. This is especially true in the area of written genres, which for the most part differ
significantly from their oral counterparts – if indeed they have counterparts. In the case of L2
speakers, most have already learned complex rhetorical patterns in their native tongue; thus,
when their native rhetorical norms differ from those of the target language, they must re-learn
generic structures, as well as the possibly unique L2 contexts where they are appropriate. As
researchers have discovered, one of the premier instances where such cross-cultural rhetorical
‘relearning’ must take place is in the area of expository/persuasive writing.1
Such scholars as Kaplan (1986), Purves & Purves (1986), Takala, Purves &
Buckmeister (1982), Connor & McCagg (1983) and Khalil (1989) have dealt at length with
issues of contrastive rhetoric in genres related to expository writing. They conclude, in short,
that non-native speakers, to be proficient in their L2, must learn this L2 in a variety of levels, that
of “genre” being the most abstract and difficult. It would seem, then, that a better understanding
1
Of course, in the case of those L2 students learning written rhetorical patterns for the first time, only doing so in a
non-native context, the task is no less crucial for the instructor. In this instance, the instructor’s responsibility is the
more familiar one of socializing the student into written discourse conventions in general, just as is done for first
year L1 students at American universities.

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of English generic structure could clearly benefit non-native speakers seeking written proficiency
in English. ESL students in particular need to be introduced more effectively to the genre of the
persuasive essay, as proficiency in this very culture-specific genre can often be crucial in
determining academic success at the tertiary level.
Methodology
This study will be devoted to an analysis of what constitutes persuasive discourse per
se, focusing primarily but not exclusively on written discourse. In terms of methodology I will
trace suasive techniques and elements as they appear throughout a continuum of persuasive
genres. The genres were chosen on a scale of seemingly simple to complex. I begin with
analysis of written advertisements and end with a breakdown of the suasive elements found in
academic journal articles. My goal is to situate the undergraduate persuasive essay as a genre
within this continuum. Two speeches, which combine both oral and written elements, are also
considered. Because the speeches were composed in written format before they were delivered,
and are not spontaneous productions, I consider them as primarily written texts. The same could
also be said of the Chevron advertisement, which has a nearly identical audiovisual counterpart
generated for the medium of television. All of the above-mentioned genres are unified under
one theme: the environment. A common theme was selected so as to be sensitive to the various
incarnations a similar message may assume. In terms of analysis, the major Halliday/Hasanian
functional categories are explored, namely, manifestations of field, tenor and mode.
 Specifically, under mode, I consider whether language use is constructive or ancillary
relative to the given text; that is to say, whether language is used alone to communicate
the message contained in the text, or whether other, extra-linguistic signals are the

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primary communicators of the idea, with language merely assisting in this goal (for
example, the use of printed words in a television commercial, or a printed caption under
an elaborate graphic serving to advertise a product). In this category, to follow Halliday
and Hasan more closely, one might also have considered such issues as theme/rheme, and
cohesive and structural devices. The former, however, do not weigh heavily in this
study; structural devices will be considered as ideational here, and thus will fall under my
discussion field.
 Tenor in the Halliday/Hasanian framework refers to who is taking part in the discourse
and the means by which such relationships are verbally instantiated (for a complete
discussion of this framework, see chap. 2, figure 1). Under tenor I will analyze the
following interpersonal strategies: presence of rhetorical questions, exclamations,
imperatives, first/second person pronouns, references to common ground (between writer
and reader), and use of degree of probability modals. In this category I also consider
appeals to pathos and appeals to ethos, as well ass the charge to the reader.
 Finally, under field, my chief interest lies in the central theme of the piece under
evaluation, and exactly how this idea is realized through language. In this regard, Peters
(1986) breaks interesting ground in her study of dominant function in student writing by
linking the traditional rhetorical idea of theme with the relatively novel concept of field
of discourse (171). “The importance of having . . . a theme,” writes Peters, “has always
been acknowledged in our rhetorical tradition (see Couture 1985: 68).” She continues:
… So far, however, the communicator’s theme or proposition has
been little discussed in relation to the functional model of language;

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little effort has been made to distinguish a communication’s theme or
proposition as it relates to the field or subject matter of the discourse,
the tenor or relationships established between discourse participants,
or the mode or method of textual presentation.” (171)
Peters draws an interesting conclusion in this regard, which I will discuss further on.
She also very perceptively links macro- and micro-structural elements such as logical
connectors with the concept of field in that they “mobilize the text’s theme,” (174)2
In this study I will consider under the rubric of field, the quality and degree of
support found in each text. In addition I will look for suasive position taking markers in
the guise of a) taxonomic terms to classify raw material (i.e., the writer’s specific
choice of words from the larger pool of synonyms the writer could have used, and what
this says about the writer’s stance, subjectivity, objectivity, etc., and b) value laden
descriptors, that is, basically, adjectives or other parts of speech used exclusively to
instantiate the writer’s system of values, her point of view. Finally, I will consider
logical connectors – macro or global structural devices (terms such as “first,” “second,”
“another objection,” etc.) All of these categories will be discussed in more depth in my
introduction to the chapter on Data Analysis. The general idea for the above framework
comes from Peters’ 1986 study of student academic writing, although I have greatly
modified analytical categories to suit my present needs.
2
Peters however seems a little ambivalent regarding macro-and micro-structural elements: for while she clearly
realizes their critical value in instantiating the theme which she considers to be the essence of the text, (and, thus, an
ideational feature), she still categorizes these elements primarily as textual strategies akin to cohesion. A solution
might be to categorize micro- locally cohesive structural elements as textual elements, and concede more central
importance to macrostructural, or globally cohesive elements, classifying them as part of the text’s field.

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Chapter 2
LITERATURE REVIEW
If one quickly scans the content of UCLA freshmen writing courses, one might safely
conclude that persuasive writing constitutes perhaps the fundamental writing form in the
Academy. One need only peruse the course syllabi in Writing Programs or the syllabi from the
35 and 36 composition-level courses in the ESL program to become aware of this fact. Indeed,
of the five sequential L1 writing courses taught at UCLA, from English A, an introduction to
university discourse, to English 131A-J, Advanced Exposition, the two most popular courses,
English 2 and English 3, strictly emphasize persuasion. The preparation begins in English 2 with
analysis and critique of university-level texts. The emphasis in this course, as one reads in the
UCLA catalogue, is on “revision for argumentative coherence and effective style.” The real
practice with argument, then, comes with English 3, the official freshman English requirement,
whose main goal is to introduce students to “[r]hetorical techniques and skillful argument.” Of
the 26 course syllabi I reviewed from English 2 and 3 courses, prepared for Fall 1991, all courses
assigned either persuasive essay assignments exclusively or combinations of summary,
comparison/contrast, definition, etc. type of assignments leading up to argument papers. There is
a very similar breakdown in the ESL section of the TESL & Applied Linguistics department,
with: a) ESL 35 (the equivalent of English 2) preparing students through summary and analysis
skills to approach persuasive writing; b) followed by ESL 36, the ESL counterpart to English 3,
whose primary focus is on persuasive writing, critiques, and a persuasive research paper.

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One Genus, Many Species
Given the prime importance of persuasive writing in Academia then, one would assume
that there is a general consensus among scholars and teachers as to what this genre actually
entails. One is somewhat surprised, therefore, to discover in the expert journals in the field that
this is not the case. Indeed, not only does there seem to be no consensus among writing
specialists as to what actually constitutes academic persuasion per se, there seems to exist a
fundamental uncertainty among experts as to how even to define “academic writing” in general.
Peters (1996), for example, seems to group all academic writing under the concept “academic
genre,” or more generally, “the genre of academic discourse,” thus coining a new term.
Interestingly, though, the only writing she points to as exemplifying this “genre” are essays of
argument and critique. For her, then academic writing is persuasive writing. This contrasts with
DiPardo (1990), who instead sees “expository” writing as definitive of academic discourse.
DiPardo defines the latter as “autonomous, written, formalized text” (65), which is
depersonalized and decontextualized. She bemoans the fact that such writing “even today
constitutes the prime goal of writing instruction,” (65). It is unclear whether DiPardo would
include under this category the persuasive essay.
It could be that the looseness with which the term “genre” is bandied about in
composition journals reveals an underlying disarray among scholars over what we are actually
teaching in college. For most of us, the only “genre” we have some confidence with is the
“essay” per se. “The essay is a powerful modern genre,” say Shumaker, Dennis and Green
(1990: 136), “a major vehicle for public discourse.” Not surprisingly, there exists a long
tradition of defining the essay genre, most of which distinguishes between the ‘formal’ and
‘informal’ subtypes, with academic discourse falling under the ‘formal’ category. Interestingly,

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however, within this categorization the informal, or personal, essay has a much clearer history
than the formal essay. Jim Krusoe (1994: E1) points to the difference between the two,
describing the personal essay as,
A different animal from its cousin, the formal one, that object of well-
meant punishment by generations of kindly English teachers. Where
the logic of the latter is meant to be airtight and its structure rigid and
unshakable, the structure of the personal is far loopier, more like a
poem’s . . . it is a playful tweak on the nose of those awful, earnest
authors of news-magazine opinions, which have names like “speaking
out” and “my turn.”
According to Holman and Harmon (1986: 187), the informal essay began in aphoristic and
moralistic writing, modified by the interjection of the personal element. Montaigne, the 16th
century French moralist, originated the genre, which was then further developed by Bacon,
Cowley, Sir Thomas Browne, Milton, La Bruyère, and the Victorians. The popularity of the
informal essay can be seen in the current popularity of Phillip Lopate’s (1994) The Art of the
Personal Essay, a wonderful anthology of prominent essays of this type from throughout western
history. In its evolution, the informal essay, say Holman and Harman (187), was “broadened and
lightened by free treatment of human manners, controlled somewhat in style and length by
periodical publication . . . [It] has developed into a recognizable literary genre, the first purpose
of which is to entertain, in a manner sprightly, light, novel or humorous.”3
This is to be
contrasted with the formal essay whose evolution, importantly, has been much less clearly
recorded. “Instead of crystallizing into a set literary type,” note the above two authorities, the
formal essay “has tended to become diversified in form, spirit and length, according to the
serious purpose of the author,” (p. 189). To sum up, the authors write:
3
Yet, if the informal essay can be considered a literary genre, there still seems little consensus on its form. Lopate
categorizes the essays in his anthology according to the following forms: Analytic Mediation, Book Review,
Consolation, Diary/Journal Entry, Diatribe, Humor, List, Lecture, Letters (Epistolary Essay), Mosaic, Newspaper
Column, Portrait and Double Portrait, Prose Poem and Reverie, Reportage, Valediction. Are these really “forms” or
does this constitute a classification according to function?

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The technique of the formal essay is now practically identical with
that of all factual or theoretical prose writing in which literary effect
is secondary to serious prose. Its tradition has doubtless tended to add
clarity to English prose style by its insistence on unity, structure and
perspicacity. (189)
Once one moves beyond the formal/informal or personal distinction, the categorization
of possible subtypes of the essay as a genre becomes murky. Holman and Harmon, considered to
be experts by Lopate for one, come up with 20 distinctions, few of which apply to academic
writing. In a note of resignation the authors conclude: “obviously, classifying the essay has
eluded human skill,” (186).4
The fact that there is no current consensus on what exactly an essay is, however, has not
prevented academics from offering up ‘objective’ classifications of their own. Typically, a
library reference sheet from one Los Angeles junior college provides students with the following
supposedly standard divisions of the formal essay: the expository, the argumentative and
descriptive essay. Of these distinctions it might perhaps be fair to ask whether the last of these,
the “descriptive essay” has any real existence anywhere. In another classificatory judgment,
Stephen Wilhoit (1993), in a novel vein, makes the distinction between “academic source-based
writing” and “argumentation” essays (29), as if argumentation per se somehow precludes
working from sources. Derrida makes a similar, and I believe specious, distinction when he
differentiates between “the art of persuasion” and the sense of logical demonstration” (Olsen,
1990: 27).
4
Indeed, this confusion over the abundance of literary forms which comprise the “essay” has had undesirable
ramifications for university-level writing courses in general regarding what specifically should be taught in these
courses. Discussing their own field of “Advanced Composition,” Shumaker, Dennis & Green (1990) sadly conclude
that, “Unfortunately, the wealth of models suggests again that advanced composition may well prove impossible to
define once and for all,” (138).

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Although the above classifications are related, Derrida’s is definitely one of the most
pernicious and abiding and, as we will see, has the greatest historical tradition. Because such a
distorted view of persuasion – one which separates suasion per se from logic – is so tenacious in
scholarly thought, persisting among scholars from Aristotle up until modern-day Kinneavy, I
believe it is of value to examine why this view has held such sway.
A Brief History of the Confusion between Modes versus Aims of Discourse
If one wishes to understand the modern day distinction (and confusion) between
exposition and persuasion, one needs to understand the rhetorical tradition of Aristotle and the
faculty psychology theories of the Enlightenment.
Aristotle and the classical rhetoricians who followed him were the first to make the
distinction between persuasive discourse and didactic discourse, the former being considered
manipulative and not subject to the rules of strict logic. At this point, persuasion was mainly an
oral phenomenon and continued to be so throughout the Middle Ages; speeches were constructed
spontaneously by means of memorized “stases” of argument which were learned at the schools.
It is fascinating how the first new “scientific” account of persuasion reinforced this
ancient tradition. George Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetoric in 1776 was the first
rhetorician to base his ideas of persuasion on the cognitive theories that became known as faculty
psychology. Campbell, in Lockean tradition, understood the mind to be composed of four
faculties: the intellect, the imagination, the will, and the feelings or emotions. One could
perhaps call him the first functionalist – in a very distant way, an intellectual predecessor of
Halliday and Hasan – for he was definitely the first to categorize discourse according to the
function it served relative to something else, in this case the mental faculties. Thus, discourse

14
which enlightened was seen as appealing to the intellect, that is, that was its function, and on
down the line. There was discourse which pleased the imagination, that which moved the
passions and that which influenced the will. This latter was considered to be persuasive, and
here, just as with Aristotle, persuasion is seen as divorced from the intellect.
While Campbell’s chief preoccupation was with the function of discourse, this cannot
be said of those who followed him, who began a tradition of substituting the means of discourse
for the ends. Thus, after Campbell, a fascination began with “modes of discourse,” that is, the
ways in which one appeals to the intellect, emotions, etc. –the traces of which one can still see
today in the misconceived “descriptive” essay category discussed above. In other words, a trend
emerged in which modes began to be seen as ends in themselves. The present-day modes of
discourse, narration, description, exposition and argument, made one of their first appearances in
George Gregory’s 1808 textbook Letters on Literature, Taste and Composition, an important
predecessor to Bain’s work in 1866. In almost modern format, Gregory presents description,
narration, exposition, argumentation and oratory as the principle modes of discourse, which he
relates to the faculties of the mind. This whole idea, however, is only treated in passing in the
book. The modes take on many incarnations up until the 20th
century. One of the most popular
appears in 1834 with Samuel Newman’s Practical System of Rhetoric. In this text, the most
widely used rhetoric in America between 1820 and 1860, Newman, much like Gregory, puts
forth the descriptive, narrative, didactic, argumentative and persuasive modes as the five possible
categories of discourse. Here “didactic” is used in place of the more common term “expository.”
Most importantly, as Connors (1981) points out, Newman, as Gregory before him, but having
much more influence than the latter, “separates persuasion of the will from argument to the
logical faculties,” (emphasis mine) (445). This trend continued throughout the 19th
century. One

15
cannot leave the 1860’s, as Newman’s influence was beginning to wane, without mentioning
George Quackenbos. This scholar seems to depart from the rest by offering a more reasoned
view of argument, although his view doesn’t seem to have taken hold. Quackenbos, in his 1863
text Advanced Course of Composition and Rhetoric, puts forth a seemingly contemporary
academic description of argument, namely, “a statement of reasons for or against a proposition,
with the view of inducing belief in others,” (D’Angelo, 1984: 35). Here he seems to de-
emphasize the passion and deceit intimated by other contemporary theorists. Importantly,
Quackenbos contrasts his view of persuasion with “exposition,” which he defines as “explaining
the meaning of an author, in defining terms, setting forth a subject in its various relations or
presenting doctrines, precepts, for the purpose of instructing others,” (35) – again, a very modern
definition.
If Newman was the first to popularize the modes throughout ante-bellum America, Bain
was the first to systematize them in the post-Civil War epoch. As Connors points out, modal
terms in Bain’s influential 1866 English Composition and Rhetoric “inform long sections of his
discussion,” (Connors, 1981: 444). Bain’s modes – description, narration and exposition
belonging to the intellect, argumentation pertaining to the will, and poetry addressing the
imagination – have endured to the present day (rigidifying, perhaps, our current views of
persuasion vis-à-vis exposition). In this case, while the modes themselves as classifications in
Bain’s paradigm are not new, their use as an organizing principle in a textbook and as a full-
fledged teaching paradigm are. Indeed, the modes as Bain conceptualized them coincide with
the emergence of the first freshman English composition courses as we know them today, both
being the result of a new shift in American colleges, a shift away from classical analysis of

16
argument, eloquence, style and belletristic focus, and towards a more varied scientific curriculum
(Connors: 446). Jon Harned (1985) sums up Bain’s significance nicely:
Up until the publication of Alexander Bain’s English Composition
and Rhetoric in 1866, most American college textbook rhetorics were
organized around belletristic discourse classifications; that is, they
divided up the subject of writing into established literary forms such
as orations, history, romance, treatises, sermons and the like. Bain’s
textbook brought about what we now, thanks to Thomas Kuhn, refer
to as a paradigm shift, sweeping away these belletristic schemes and
substituting five forms – Description, Narration, Exposition,
Persuasion and Poetry – that, with the exception of poetry, have
survived up to the present in Freshman Composition and are known in
the trade as the Modes of Discourse. (1985: 42)
One cannot speak of a total decline of modes per se as there are still too many
contemporary textbooks like Langan’s College Writing Skills with Readings (1993), which
organize themselves around the modes. Here one can still find fossilized assignments that call
for descriptive and narrative essays as genres, ignoring the function which the description or the
narration must in fact be subordinated to. Nonetheless, with the emergence of paragraph
emphasis and unity at the turn of the century (c.f., the “big four”: Barrett Wendell, John Genung,
Adams Sherman Hill and Fred Newton Scott), and then the emergence of single mode texts
shortly thereafter, most notably texts concerned only with techniques of exposition, the modes
lost much of their prominence. In the 1930’s composition as a discipline began to
professionalize itself with scholarly journals and conferences uniting professionals and creating
more accessible forums for new ideas. Thesis texts emerged in the 1930’s; general semantics
and communication theories informed writing paradigms in the 1940’s; and in 1950 George
Campbell’s very primitive notion of writing function comes full circle with the publication of
James McCrimmon’s Writing with a Purpose, quietly setting the stage among a host of other

17
developments for contemporary focuses on function in discourse (c.f., James Britton (1970) and
his triad of poetic, expressive and transactional discourse; James Kinneavy’s A Theory of
Discourse (1971), James Moffett’s (1983) notion of spectrum discourse – recording, reporting,
generalizing and theorizing; etc.).
Given such a great evolution from Aristotle’s view of rhetoric to the very sophisticated
cognitive and social theories of discourse that we have today, it is ironic that many scholars
nonetheless maintain the classical, limited view of persuasion, most notably Kinneavy, to whom
I shall return. The truth is, beyond the obscure John Bascon, who in 1873 declared that oratory
(i.e., persuasion) “may find its object in the understanding, in the emotions or in the will,”
(D’Angelo, 1984: 37), thus providing the most far reaching view of persuasion yet, most
scholars, or at least those who have given any thought to the matter, retain a somewhat uneasy,
undefined view of the relationship between persuasion and exposition.
Persuasion: A Social Semiotic Perspective
One might well wonder how Halliday and Hasan’s (1989) views of discourse hook
together with all of the above. To understand Halliday and Hasan, one needs to change gears
and shift from a cognitive view of discourse to a social-semiotic one. In brief, the social
semiotic perspective taken by Halliday and Hasan seeks to explain, in the words of Deborah
Brandt, “how social life is embedded in and perpetuated by discourse, (1986: 143) or in other
words, how social life determines everything about discourse, most particularly generic structure.
Actually, for Halliday and Hasan, the influences go both ways; indeed these two scholars see
context and text as interwoven in a kind of symbiotic relationship, where social contexts

18
permeate texts and texts permeate social contexts. In the words of Hasan, “[T]here is. . . a two-
way relationship between text structure and [social situation]: the ongoing structure of the text
defines and confirms the nature of the [social situation], while the latter acts as a point of
reference for deciding what kind of elements can appropriately appear when, where and how
often (1989: 70). On a macro scale, as Halliday says, the wish of the two scholars is to examine
“the systematic relation between the social environment as a semiotic construct on the one hand
and the semantic system and functional organization of language on the other,” (Halliday and
Hasan, 1980: 13-14). At a more simplistic level, the two scholars seem fascinated by the
element of prediction in social interaction, which is the single greatest factor in enabling,
Halliday believes, mutual intelligibility. Halliday puts it this way:
What is remarkable is how often people do understand each other
despite the noise with which we are continually surrounded. How do
we explain the success with which people communicate? The short
answer, I shall suggest, is that we know what the other person is going
to say. (9).
Specifically, Halliday believes that when confronted by a specific social situation we do
three things: a) we note what is going on (i.e., assign to the situation a “field”); b) we recognize
the personal relationships involved (i.e., assign to the situation a “tenor”); and c) we see what is
being achieved by means of language (i.e., mode) – hence the “function” in their functional
approach. Armed with this information we then make predictions about the kinds of meaning
that are likely to be foregrounded in that particular situation. In short, we sort of activate a verbal
schema of what is taking place which tells us what we ourselves should say and how we should
say it. And what the verbal schema in fact is is an oral discourse genre. It is interesting,
however, that Halliday and Hasan choose one of the most basic of possible oral discourse
situations to illustrate their ideas, for example, the sales encounter. Hasan, in discussing the

19
social variables of a sales encounter successfully predicts the oral generic structure for that
particular situation. The question is, is this possible with more complex situations and genres?
To answer this question, we have to go back to their theory in more detail. Halliday and
Hasan (1989) refer to social situations as “Contextual Configurations” or CCs. In the words of
Hasan: “A contextual configuration . . . is a specific set of values that realize field, tenor and
mode,” (55). Once we sort of “plug in” the above values or variables of a given situation, we
should be able to predict what Hasan refers to as a “text’s” Generic Structure Potential. Again,
Hasan: “If a text can be described as ‘language doing some job in some context,’ then it is
reasonable to describe it as the verbal expression of a social activity . . . So it is not surprising
that the features of the CC can be used for making certain kinds of predictions about text
structure,” (56). These predictions of course relate to the particular genre in question. Thus, one
should be able to predict four generic features: 1) obligatory elements, i.e., what must appear to
make a genre a genre; 2) optional elements, 3) any required sequencing of the above vis-à-vis
each other; and 4) the possibility of iteration.
If one looks more closely at how Halliday and Hasan define context of situation,
however, one soon becomes aware of extreme vagueness in their categories. Please see figure #1.

20
Figure #1
(Adapted from Halliday & Hasan, 1989, p. 12)
Context of Situation
Three Features
Field – refers to what is happening, to the nature of the social action that is taking place:
What is it that the participants are engaged in, in which the language figures as some
essential component?
Tenor – refers to who is taking part, to the nature of the participants, their statuses and
roles: what kinds of role relationship obtain among the participants, including
permanent and temporary relationships of one kind or another, both the types of speech
role that they are taking on in the dialogue and the whole cluster of socially significant
relationships in which they are involved.
Mode – refers to what part the language is playing, what it is that the participants are
expecting the language to do for them in that situation: the symbolic organization of the
text, the status that it has, and its function in the context, including the channel (is it
spoken or written or some combination of the two?) and also the rhetorical mode, what
is being achieved in the text in terms of such categories as persuasive, expository,
didactic, and the like?
Specifically, if one looks at the definition of mode, one finds that Halliday and Hasan take for
granted basic generic functions, namely those relating to persuasive and expository genres,
without first defining what these entail. Indeed, it is to discover exactly what these entail that is
the main goal of this study. Thus, for this investigation, it would seem that Halliday and Hasan’s
paradigm approaches the object I wish to analyze from too much of a distance.
There does exist an alternative functional paradigm, aimed, it would seem, at the right
level, and which, I believe, shed some much needed light on the topic under consideration here,
the persuasive essay. This is James Kinneavy’s (1971) theory of discourse aims.

21
Kinneavy’s Aims of Discourse
When Kinneavy’s work, A Theory of Discourse, appeared in 1971 it had enormous
impact. It was embraced in the seventies by such leading rhetorical theorists as E.P.J. Corbett
(1992), Jim Corder (1996), Frank D’Angelo (1976), and Ross Winterowd (1975). It provided,
notes Fulkerson (1984), the conceptual basis for several modern textbooks as well as for
individual courses and composition programs. It became part of the canon that “any well
prepared college composition teacher must know,” says Fulkerson, and became required reading
for two NEH seminars. In the 1980s the book came out in paperback and then, for all intents and
purposes, seems to have been forgotten.
This is a shame, for there is much of value in Kinneavy’s approach. Kinneavy bases his
ideas of discourse on a communications triangle involving the speaker/writer, (the encoder); the
hearer/reader (the decoder); the language of communication (the signal); and, finally, reality, or
what is referred to (see figure #2).
Figure #2 Kinneavy’s Communication Triangle
SignalEncoder Decoder
Reality

22
This four-way communications network is built upon similar theories put forth by Plato (the first,
second, and third person view of discourse), Bühler (cited by Halliday and Hasan, 1989) and
Jakobson (1960) among others. From this basic network, Kinneavy builds a whole system of
discourse which elegantly showcases types of discourse based on the communications variable
most foregrounded by the speaker/writer.
Kinneavy situates his schema within a complete social framework of discourse not
incompatible with that of Halliday and Hasan. Thus, Kinneavy sees type of discourse as being
determined by language pragmatics, a phenomenon related directly to how and why people
actually use language. Kinneavy explains, “Taken together, the syntactics and semantics of the
language constitute the language as a potential tool” (22). What is critical is how people use this
tool.
Discourse study then is the study of the situational uses of the
potentials of the language… [it is] characterized by individuals acting
in a special time and place; . . . it establishes a verbal context and it
has a situational context and cultural context. (22)
This seems an exact parallel to Halliday and Hasan’s contextual configuration. “We study
language partly in order to understand language and how it works, and partly to understand what
people do with it,” writes Halliday (Halliday & Hasan, 1989: 44). “All use of language has a
context,” Halliday continues.
The ‘textual’ features enable the discourse to cohere not only with
itself but also with its context of situation. We have analyzed the
context of situation into three components, corresponding to the three
metafunctions [i.e., field, tenor, mode]. This enables us to display the
redundancy between text and situation – how each serves to predict
the other. (45)

23
Like Kinneavy, Halliday and Hasan imagine the relationship between language and ‘real life’ to
be a series of concentric circles: First one has a “context of situation” (45), the immediate
instance in which language is being used; this in turn is enveloped in an overarching “context of
culture” (46). Both of these areas then are shot through with historical precedent, which
Halliday and Hasan call “intertextuality.” Not unlike Bahktin’s (1981) concept of heteroglossia
(but conceived here as a discourse phenomenon rather than a purely linguistic phenomenon),
Halliday and Hasan define intertextuality as follows:
We have spoken of [context of situation and context of culture] as
‘determining’ the text, stressing the predictability of the text from the
context. ... But in fact the relationship between text and context is a
dialectical one: the text creates the context as much of the context
creates the text. ‘Meaning’ arises from the friction of the two. This
means that part of the environment for any text is a set of previous
texts, texts that are taken for granted and shared among those taking
part. (47)
In fact, this view of language has even more in common with Vygotsky (1934) than with
Bahktin. For while it is Bahktin’s insight that language, being shot through with historical
usages and already fashioned meanings, constrains an individual’s original power of expression,5
Vygotsky makes clear that each individual in certain ways creates language as much as language
creates or determines the utterances of each individual. “Word meanings develop,” (212) writes
Vygotsky. In everyone’s mind, Vygotsky notes, senses of words “combine and unite . . . The
senses of different words flow into one another – literally influence – so that the earlier ones are
contained in, and modify, the later ones.” Vygotsky gives the following example of this
5
Consider Bahktin’s own words on the subject in his essay the Dialogic Imagination, in Discourse in the novel,
(1981, p. 276). “Indeed, any concrete discourse (utterance) finds the object at which it was directed already as it
were overlain with qualifications, open to dispute, charged with value, already enveloped in an obscuring mist – or
on the contrary, by the “light” of alien words that have already been spoken about it. It is entangled, shot through
with shared thoughts, points of view, alien value judgments and accents. The word, directed toward its object,
enters a dialogically agitated and tension-filled environment of alien words, value judgments and accents, weaves in
and out of complex interrelationships, merges with some, recoils from others, intersects with yet a third group: and
all of this may crucially shape discourse, may leave a trace in all its semantic layers, may complicate its expression
and influence its entire stylistic profile.”

24
potential for word creation in language in general, and in each individual’s mind in particular.
“Thus, a word that keeps recurring in a book or a poem sometimes absorbs all the variety of
sense contained in it and becomes, in a way, equivalent to the work itself. Titles like Don
Quixote, Hamlet and Anna Karenina illustrate this very clearly; the whole sense of the work is
contained in one name.” (247).
In the same way that actual words, burdened as they are with their unique histories and
at any point in time fixed meanings, comprise the language which each member of society is
obliged to use, so actual texts, each genre with its unique history, comprise the rhetorical tools
each individual in society has access to in order to express herself through language. Language
use is not heroically ‘free’ in society, but rather consciously or not language becomes packaged
in the specific genres which a culture, through its history and immediate necessity, has crafted.
And, of course, new genres, like new words, are created all the time. This is Halliday and
Hasan’s view of intertextuality. It is a shame that they do not develop it more.
Instead, Halliday and Hasan seem content to view the impact of culture in a global
sense. In their work Language, Context and Text they sadly limit themselves to examples of a
child’s discourse while playing, or a customer’s discourse at a service encounter. It seems from
their 1989 work at least, that Halliday and Hasan are happiest when they can factor out any trace
of cultural “intertextuality” and see only the basic needs of the individual, and how the individual
seeks to satisfy these needs through language. I believe that it is here where Kinneavy’s more
historical view of concrete rhetorical traditions, created in response to very complex individual
needs in society, is more helpful as a guide in understanding my topic of modern persuasive
discourse situated in the Academy.

25
Please see figures #3 and #4 for a visual layout of Kinneavy’s global understanding of
discourse.
Figure #3*
Kinneavy’s Concept of Discourse
Context: Place of Discourse
in Language Study
Language Metalanguage
Reality
*(Adapted from Kinneavy, 1970, p. 21)
Given this map of Kinneavy’s overall understanding of discourse, one may locate a
major difference between Kinneavy and Halliday and Hasan. The latter, from the examples they
give in their 1989 work, seem to look only at situational or cultural influences on discourse.
Kinneavy takes these factors largely for granted in his book, understanding them as the sine qua
Signal DecoderEncoder
Pragmatics
Situational Context
—Personal and social
motivations for speaking,
reading, etc.
Cultural Context
— Larger social reasons
motivating science,
propaganda, literature,
comparative ethno-
science, etc.
— Large Social Effects of
the above
— Taste in the above
— Traditions
— Genres
— Period Characteristics

26
non of any discussion of discourse. Kinneavy, then goes on to consider other discourse
constraints, which he classifies as lying under the rubric of “pragmatics.”
It is here, I believe, that Kinneavy factors in Halliday and Hasan’s idea of intertextuality
by actually viewing the history of each genre of discourse concurrently while analyzing the
immediate aims, available modes, media, etc., of the individual seeking to express himself
through language. Halliday and Hasan create a framework for this but they don’t really follow
through. Below is a fuller view of Kinneavy’s idea of what constitutes discourse “pragmatics,”
basically, the variables which shape an individual’s specific use of language at a specific time.
One cannot readily perceive the idea of “intertextuality” in this schema, but it clearly underlies
the structure. Each mode Kinneavy considers, as well as each rhetorical aim he presents, has
been discussed and formulated in various ways since Aristotle. It is Halliday and Hasan’s failure
to introduce discussion of many of these variables – the established modes of discourse in
English, for example – which leaves gaps in their work. Figure #4*

27
Kinneavy’s Concept of Discourse Pragmatics
Most important to Kinneavy’s system is his quantification of the aims of discourse,
which emanate from the components of the communications triangle. Thus, his main focus
is on the particular rhetorical goal a speaker/writer wishes to achieve by her use of language,
among which he recognizes four principle goals or aims. Discourse, for example, whose
main focus is on the encoder is deemed expressive discourse; that which is focused on the
decoder is persuasive, that whose primary focus is on “reality,” and which thus de-
emphasizes the encoder and the decoder is “reference” discourse; finally, that discourse
which foregrounds the language per se of the message, is literature. Importantly, for
Signal
Encoder Decoder
Reality
Syntactics
Phonology
Morphology
Syntactics
Semantics
Meaning
Psycho-linguistics
Reference
Pragmatics
Arts & Media
Reading
Speaking
Writing
Listening
Modes
Narration
Description
Evaluation
Classification
Aims
Reference
Persuasion
Literature
Expression
*(Adapted from Kinneavy, 1970, p. 25)

28
Kinneavy, it is the aim of discourse which then determines everything else about it: its form
of logic, its organization and its style.6
In other words, it is the immediate aim of discourse,
as Kinneavy strictly defines it, which accounts for a text’s generic structure. This is to be
contrasted with Halliday and Hasan’s more loosely conceived ‘context of situation.’ In
reality, instead of being considered as an alternate paradigm, perhaps Kinneavy’s work can
be seen as a sort of fleshing out of the very good ideas which Halliday and Hasan articulate
in more general terms.
In Kinneavy’s system the modes, (i.e., narration, description, classification, and
evaluation) are tools; they can be used in the service of any aim of discourse. For a
breakdown of Kinneavian aims of discourse (61), please see Figure #5.
6
A claim which has not gone unchallenged (c.f., Fulkerson, 1984)

29
Figure #5 — A Theory of Discourse, 1971: the Aims of Discourse
Individual
Conversation
Journals
Diaries
Gripe sessions
Prayer
Social
Minority protests
Manifestoes
Declarations of independence
Contracts
Constitution of clubs
Myth
Utopia plans
Religious credos
ScientificExploratory Informative
Referential Discourse
— Proving a point by arguing from
accepted premises
— Proving a point by arguing from
particulars
— A combination of both
— Dialogues
— Seminars
— A tentative definition of…
— Proposing a solution to
problems
— News Articles
— Reports
— Summaries
— Nontechnical encyclopedia articles
REALITY
SIGNAL
ENCODER DECODER
Literature
Expressive
Discourse
Persuasive
Discourse
Advertising
Political speeches
Religious sermons
Legal oratory
Editorials
Short story Drama
Lyric TV Show
Short narrative Movie
Ballad, folk song Joke

30
With specific regard to persuasive and referential discourse, Kinneavy offers the
following definitions. In terms of discourse focused on the decoder (i.e., persuasive
discourse), all other variables pale in comparison. Thus, “what is essential is that the
encoder, reality, and language itself all become instrumental to the achievement of some
practical effect on the decoder,” writes Kinneavy (39). Persuasion involves the “direct
inducement to some kind of action (intellectual, emotional, or physical),” according to
Kinneavy, who states that it “therefore differs from science and literature,” (219). Unlike
science, persuasion values “probabilities more than truths,” and therefore cannot be
supported on the basis of pure logic. Instead, suasive support, for Kinneavy, who is
obviously greatly inspired by Aristotle, deals with “apparent proof” or the enthymeme.”
Here Kinneavy approvingly quotes Aristotle’s rhetoric: “The duty of rhetoric,’ he says,
‘is to deal with such matters as we deliberate upon without arts or systems to guide us, in
the hearing of persons who cannot take in at a glance a complicated argument or follow a
long chain of reasoning,’” (220). Predictably, then, Kinneavy takes the final step of
equating persuasion with emotional appeal. “A further specific differentia of persuasion
from reference discourse is the usual presence in persuasive discourse of emotional terms
and references,” (220). The examples Kinneavy provides of possible genres in this
category are advertisements, political speeches, religious sermons, legal oratory, and
editorials. Predictably, academic essays are not included in this rhetoric. . .
Finally, reference discourse for Kinneavy is everything that persuasive discourse
is not. It is objective, well-reasoned, well supported by empirical fact or deduction and it
is not emotional. It is, in short, everything an academic persuasive essay should be.

31
This seeming shortcoming in Kinneavy’s paradigm has not escaped notice. In his
brilliant critique of Kinneavy, Fulkerson (1984) points this out: “Kinneavy denigrates persuasive
discourse, implying that shallow emotional appeals, deception, and illogic are among its primary
features,” (49). “Undoubtedly,” continues Fulkerson,
Much sham reasoning exists in contemporary persuasion, but it does
not seems helpful to equate persuasion with propaganda… while
elevating into the status of science any discourse that attempts careful
reasoning. (50)
Clearly, Kinneavy’s work is based on previous theorists, not empirical evidence. Fulkerson, in
his critique says as much: “Instead of a finished taxonomy upon which we build curricula and
syllabuses, Kinneavy has provided a complex set of hypotheses to be tested, used, and modified
through rhetorical criticism,” (Ibid).
In a word, that is what the following section of this paper will attempt to do. Based on
evidence supplied from seven representative persuasive genres, I wish to carefully analyze the
components of real persuasive texts and distill from them those elements which compose their
generic structure. I will then apply the principles which can be gleaned from this analysis to a
reformulation of the Kinneavian paradigm to include the undergraduate persuasive essay.

32
Chapter 3
DATA ANALYSIS
Persuasive Genres
In this section I analyze seven persuasive genres, 13 texts in all,7
taking for the
most part two examples from each genre8
from which I hope to trace a progression of
suasive techniques as I move from simple to complex. The genres are: magazine
advertisements, letters to the editor, a congressman’s letter to constituents, editorials, a
feature story, speeches, and academic journal articles. To control for topic, “The
Environment” was chosen as a theme unifying all thirteen texts. It is a topic, I believe,
given to both emotional as well as detached scientific treatment; it is also a popular topic
in freshman writing courses. I will analyze all functional categories in the above texts,
i.e., field, tenor and mode, and my chief interest in the pieces will be to ascertain the
following elements: a) the charge to the reader; b) presence of formal logic and/or
scientific exposition in the text; which is related to c) type and degree of support in the
text; I will also be looking for d) type and degree of emotional appeal, both pathos-based
and ethos-based; and e) interpersonal strategies: i.e., presence of rhetorical questions,
exclamations, imperatives, first/second person pronouns, and common ground indicators,
and finally, f) suasive position-taking markers, both i) taxonomic terms to classify raw
material (see next page for a fuller description of all categories presented here) and ii)
value laden descriptors. I will also mark the role which language is playing in the text,
7
Numerical breakdown: two advertisements; 2 letters to the editor; one Congressman’s letter to constituents; three
editorials; one feature story; two speeches; two scientific journal articles.
8
With the exception of two genres, the letter to constituents and the feature story, of which I will study only one
representative text.

33
that is, whether it is constitutive, or the only means of communication in the text, or
whether it is ancillary. Let’s look at these categories in a bit more depth.
I: Field
Again, the most relevant aspect of field, for this study, lies in the central theme
of each text under evaluation, and how this theme is presented. This entails considering
the use of logic, support, and macrostructural elements.
 Formal Logic and/or Scientific Exposition
According to Kinneavy (1971), scientific discourse is distinctive in its
rigid use of formal inductive and deductive logic, the latter devolving from
absolute premises. This is contrasted with the “enthymeme,” which Ramage and
Bean (1992) define as
an incomplete logical structure that depends for its completeness on
one or more unstated premises. These unstated premises serve as the
starting point of the argument and therefore should be assumptions,
values or beliefs granted by the audience. (97)
Kate Ronald (1987) rounds out the definition by differentiating the enthymeme
from the syllogism. Thus, the enthymeme is understood as a syllogism with one
proposition suppressed. More importantly, however, it is said to differ from the
syllogism in that
it addresses matters of probability, it need not adhere to strict rules of
validity, and it employs ethical and emotional as well as logical
proofs. It serves persuasive purposes in those wide areas of human
affairs for which formal logic does not apply, including many
business and technical situations. (43)
In this study, it is therefore important to trace whether pure logic or enthymemic logic is
employed in the texts to confirm or refute Kinneavy’s characterization of persuasive

34
discourse. In addition to type of logic, Kinneavy differentiates scientific from persuasive
discourse in terms of style. Thus, scientific discourse is characterized by use of 3rd
person,
density of presentation, use of scientific coinages or jargon, whose goal is that of
“instruction rather than persuasion, clarity rather than adornment, denotative rather than
connotative,” etc. (172). These are also things I will be looking at in my study.
 Amount and Kind of Support
In this category I wish to trace the amount and kind of proof or
demonstration of the truth given to claims made. It is important to note because
unsupported claims usually sell themselves on the power of emotion alone and are
of course not considered scientific.
 Persuasive Position-Taking Markers
Interesting also is the presence in texts of subtle forms of value
judgments – i.e., taxonomic terms to classify raw material and value-laden
descriptors. This will be interesting to follow in the more “objective,” detached
journal articles in my generic spectrum.
Again, some of the framework above has been taken from Pamela
Peters’ 1986 study of student writing; however, it has been greatly expanded and
modified largely with Kinneavian concepts. Also, unlike Peters’ study, the present
analysis will be largely qualitative and exploratory. At the end of the thirteen
analyses I will summarize the results.

35
II: Tenor
In evaluating aspects of the interrelationships made apparent in the text between
the writer/speaker and the reader/audience, I will consider the following elements:
 Charge to the Reader:
The central difference made between scientific or didactic discourse
versus persuasive discourse – the distinction made from ancient times up to and
including Kinneavy – is that the main concern of persuasion is to incite the
reader/audience to some action. As stated above in my discussion of Kinneavy,
the action desired on the part of the reader may be either intellectual, emotional or
physical. On the other hand, scientific discourse, it is asserted, has next to no
concern with the reader, only with the “reality” being discussed. Thus, I believe it
to be important in analyzing the following persuasive texts to determine what
effect the writer wished to have on the reader, (i.e., what, in other words, the writer
charges the reader to think, feel, or do). Are all persuasive texts really reader- (or
decoder-) based, as Kinneavy asserts? Conversely, are all ‘expository’ texts
primarily reality-oriented?
 Type and Degree of Emotional Appeal
Here, as opposed to the above category, I seek to determine to what
extent suasion is based in the text on appeals to emotion or bald appeals to the
credibility of the writer.
 Interpersonal Strategies
This category, unlike the others, is taken from Peters (1986), who in her
study of persuasive components looked for things such as reference to common

36
ground, rhetorical questions, exclamations, imperatives, degree of probability
modals and first and second person pronouns. Like Peters, I consider these to be
crucial components of persuasion and am interested in seeing how they are
distributed throughout the genres I am studying.
III: Mode
With regard to mode, my chief concern will be whether use of language is
ancillary or constitutive. As previously mentioned, I consider all texts collected here to be
primarily written texts.
I: Advertisements
In her study, Peters is largely concerned in the area of persuasive discourse with
tracing the elements that are effective in getting the theme across, (1986). The same
concern is fundamental in all advertising. In both the Chevron ad and the 50 Peaks Hiking
Boot ad, emotion is the prime means of suasion.
1) Do not disturb, (May 1, 1995: 62). Chevron magazine advertisement in
Newsweek, 85 words.
Summary: This advertisement wishes to instill on the part of the reading
public confidence in the company and admiration for the company’s
compassionate stance on environmental issues. The ad consists of a full-page
picture of a large fish on a fertile ocean floor, with the text embedded in this
piece of artwork.
i) Field
Thesis: Chevron does not disturb nature.
Amount and Kind of –
a) Formal Logic and/or scientific Exposition: 0

37
Notably, there is no attempt made at formal logic in this advertisement, no
induction, deduction, etc. There is of course an implicit cause and effect assumption
underlying the ad, i.e., because we are so environmentally conscious, you should buy our
product. Thus, the logic of the ad is enthymemic.
b) Support: 0. There is also a notable lack of support to back the central claim
in this ad. How does the reader know that Chevron has not disturbed the ecosystem along
the Dugong Reef? The reader must take the claim in the ad at face value.
Persuasive Position-Taking Markers
c) Taxonomic Terms to Classify Raw Material: 0. As expected, there is no raw
material here to classify.
d) Value Laden Descriptors: At the most basic level the ad uses highly
emotionally charged vocabulary: “liquid glass” (– the ocean is crystal clear, totally
unpolluted), “coral treasure,” “cradles life that is so delicate,” “harm it forever,” etc.
The vocabulary here is emotionally packed with concepts of good and evil. Chevron is
“good.” Do not consider it to be an evil polluter.
i) Tenor:
Charge to the Reader: Trust Chevron; implicit charge: buy Chevron gasoline.
Interpersonal Strategies: In her study, Peters calls “interpersonal strategies”
those strategies which a writer uses to connect/relate to the reader. The assumption is that
such strategies are absent in the more reference-focused scientific discourse and much
more present in heavily persuasive discourse. As expected, the latter part of the
assumption proves true in the case of advertising. One way of connecting writer and
reader present in the Chevron ad is to establish some “common ground” between the

38
two. Here, Chevron posits that all readers value pristine nature, that no reader will want
an oil company to destroy nature. The purpose of the ad is to assure the reader that
Chevron too holds these values, and will protect the reader’s values. This particular ad
uses only one other means of directly impacting the reader, the rhetorical question, but
the question here is central to the ad itself: “Do people go out of their way to avoid
crowds?” To understand the rhetorical importance of this question, however, we must
address the subject of ethical emotional appeals.
Appeals to Ethos: From Aristotle onwards, “ethos” has had the rhetorical
meaning of the speaker’s (or writer’s) personal integrity. Effective orators/writers, it
seems, have always known that establishing the reputation of honor and trustworthiness of
the “messenger” has enormous persuasive impact on the message one is trying to convey –
hence the expression ‘take my word for it.’ In terms of the Chevron ad, the entire ad is an
appeal to ethos. Thus, while the underlying message of the advertisement is: buy our
product, nowhere is this stated in the text. Instead, the text seeks to instill the reader’s
confidence in the company by establishing the fact that Chevron goes out of its way to
protect nature: i.e., “Do people go out of their way to avoid crowds? —People Do.”
(Chevron logo). All other things being equal, the assumption is, the consumer will, as a
result of seeing this ad, choose the environmentally safe Chevron product instead of
another brand which may not be so environmentally conscious. Thus, the entire verbal
text of the Chevron ad consists of an ethical appeal, although this is not the only type of
appeal made.
Appeal to Pathos. There is one central appeal made to the “pathos” or to the
emotions, feelings of the reader here as well. Above all, a feeling of well-being, of things

39
being as they should be, is invoked by the picture of the ad depicting a happy, thriving
ocean scene. This sense of well-being is then reinforced by the story-like wording of the
text “Below the liquid glass, below shadows and air, breathes a neon city where eels roar
and turtles fly.”
iii) Mode: Language
In this ad, language plays an ancillary role, that is, it is not the only means by
which this ad communicates its message. Here the words are embedded in a full-page
picture. In both ads, the picture adds to the emotive power of the text.
2) Hi Tec 50 Peaks Hiking Boots, (February 1992: 69). Advertisement in Sierra
magazine,
84 words.
Summary: This ad describes the company’s innovation with boots; the
enjoyment and use of these boots is linked by the advertisers with the fate of
the national parks.
Thesis: 50 Peaks hiking boots are the best; therefore, they will “last forever.”
a) Formal Logic and/or scientific Exposition: 0
b) Support: 0. Only the claim is made: 50 Peaks . . . taking the hiking boot to
new heights through a combination of technology, design, and trail-tested materials to
provide the best boot for all your outdoor adventures.”
c) Taxonomic Terms to Classify Raw Material: 0

40
d) Value Laden Descriptors: use of superlative: “best boot”; expressions
connoting exhilaration and fear: “new heights,” “help save”; and absolutes: “enjoy
forever.”
ii) Tenor:
Charge to the Reader: Buy our boots/help save the national parks.
Interpersonal Strategies: There is a clear common ground of values presupposed
by this ad, which is made possible by the specialized nature of the publication it is in.
Because this magazine, Sierra, symbolizes environmental consciousness, the
advertisement assumes that their goal to preserve U.S. National Parks is shared by the
reader. It is this assumption that makes the advertisement work. (The phrase “our
national parks” is mentioned twice.) In addition to common ground expressions, there are
five imperatives in the ad: “enjoy forever”; “then enjoy the beauty of our national parks”;
“look for details”; “find out how”; and “take the step.” These of course connect writer and
reader by directly addressing the latter.
Appeal to Ethos: Hi Tec 50 Peaks boot company establishes its ethical credentials
by showing, like Chevron, how it is saving the environment. Thus, if readers go to the
store outlet they can “find out how [they] and Hi Tec can save our National Parks.” This,
it is to be imagined, is a good reason to go to the store and buy their boots.
Appeal to Pathos: There are three emotional appeals in this ad, the first being an
appeal to the reader’s visual and physical pleasure. Immediately the reader is struck by
the beautiful picture on the page and lulled into thinking that she should be climbing the
mountains portrayed there. “Enjoy forever,” says the ad. The ad then instills in the reader

41
a desire for adventure. The 50 Peaks product is touted as the best boot “for all your
outdoor adventures. Whatever your mountain. . . . 50 Peaks.” In a quick about-face,
finally, come the subtle arousals of fear and guilt in the reader, as the ‘enjoy forever’
message becomes qualified by the “saving” the parks message. The reader is seized by
the uneasy feeling that inaction on her part, that is, failing to visit the boot store, will lead
to a loss of the parks. As with the Chevron ad, this hiking boot ad artfully manipulates the
reader.
iii) Mode: Language
Ancillary – Like the Chevron ad, the Hi Tech ad is embedded in a picture. The
upper part of the ad consists of a snapshot of a mountain sunset; the bottom section shows
a pair of boots superimposed on a sandy trail which is marked by the rugged footprints of
the boots. The logo “50 Peaks: Hi Tec” is also superimposed, all of which is surrounded
by a border composed of the names of the 50 national parks in America. The entire ad
plays with the name of the boots and the 50 national parks the advertisers wish to be
associated with; thus, when the ad says “enjoy them forever,” we do not know whether it
is the boots or the national parks that are being referred to.
II: Letters to the Editor
Because of the greater length afforded to this genre of persuasion, there is much
more latitude for letter-to-the-editor authors to develop their message. As expected, in the
two letters I analyzed a variety of persuasive strategies were utilized.

42
3) Harkin, J. (April 22, 1994: 12A). Beware of the latest anti-environmental strategy
[Letter to the Editor]. USA Today. Approx. 260 words.
Summary: The letter informs the public about a strategy called the “wise
use” movement, which, according to the writer, is meant to harm or
circumvent existing environmental laws. Writer wants readers to actively
block implementation of the wise use “takings” idea.
Field:
Thesis: The reader should make sure that legislators vote no on the “wise
use” bill.
a) Formal Logic and/or Scientific Exposition: two definitions — “With a
common-sense sounding name, the wise-use movement is a coalition of over 500 major
mining, logging, oil, gas and commercial interests”; “Takings is an idea resulting from a
radical interpretation of the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, which guarantees just
compensation when the government confiscates property”; cause and effect — “because
of this situation, environmental gains may be curtailed”; deduction — use of example (see
below).
b) Support: two hypothetical examples — “For example, a company forbidden
to dump toxic waste into a public water supply would have to spend money to upgrade its
pollution-reducing capabilities”; “Under the takings concept, taxpayers would have to pay
the company for its ‘losses.’”
d) Value-Laden Descriptors: The adjectives in “common sense sounding
name.” Use of quotation marks to undermine the validity of a concept: “’wise-use’”; the

43
politically loaded term “green agenda,” which is also in quotation marks. “Radical
interpretation,” “this stealth campaign,” negative terminology is used well when
describing those whom the writer opposes.
ii) Tenor
Charge to the Reader: (explicitly stated) “Do what you can to make your
legislators aware of this stealth campaign against our planet Earth,” i.e., write to your
congressman and tell him why you are against the “Wise Use” scheme.
Interpersonal Strategies:
Common ground is established between the writer and the reader through the use
of the first person plural “we.” i.e., “Just when we [emphasis mine] thought there was
something to celebrate this Earth Day…” Here the author is in effect creating an
audience by addressing herself only to those people who share the same pro-
environmental values as she. This strategy of tapping into the values of the reader, which
we also saw in the above two texts, illustrates well Burke’s idea of the essence of
persuasion, that is, identification between writer (speaker) and audience. As Kinneavy
(1971) puts it: “the decoder is, presumably, divided in attitude from the encoder; otherwise
there is no point to persuasion. Thus the purpose of persuasion is to achieve identification
of speaker and hearer, according to Burke. This persuasion of the hearer may be to some
new intellectual conviction, or to new emotional attitude, or it may be a direct inducement
to physical action,” (219). In this case, as in the above two, the writer does not wish to
change attitudes, but rather appeals to those in the audience who share the same values
and cites them to action. And again, this incitement to action, unlike the situation in the
Chevron text, is explicit and in second person: “do what you can.” Finally, one must note

44
the two imperatives in this text, the one just mentioned and the one in the title: “Beware
of ....” All of these elements connect the writer directly to the reader and allow the former
to have sway in the text.
Appeal to Ethos: Another weapon in the author’s arsenal of persuasion is the
latter’s credentials. By using the above-mentioned “we” in the opening “just when we
thought . . . “ the author not only identifies with the reader as being in the same camp, but
notifies the reader of her authority in this matter: the author is pro-environmentalist and is
obviously well-informed in environmental issues. This is a good instance of Halliday’s
“radical” view of functionalism in language in the sense that it shows how even one word
can perform overlapping functions in a text.
Appeal to Pathos: The emotions roused in this text are those of fear. The
reader’s concern is touched off by the very title of the letter, “Beware of” and remains the
central issue of the text. The writer’s chief antagonists, the mining, logging, oil, gas and
commercial interests, are portrayed as corrupt enemies of the reader. Thus such language
as “scheme,” “tactics,” “radical,” to characterize the anti-environmentalists maintain the
reader’s feelings of distrust and apprehension throughout the text.
iii) Mode: Language
—Almost Constitutive. Embedded in the text is a symbol of a green earth with a
leaf in the center. This, of course, is a non-verbal element of persuasion. If the leaf
graphic was added by the editors, however, then one could say that the language is entirely
constitutive.

45
4) Reilly, W. K. (August 15, 1992: 18). Memo on Rio Summit focused on U.S. gains
[Letter to the Editor]. The New York Times. App. 264 words.
Summary: this letter is both a critique of the media, which the writer believes
to be unfair in its reporting, as well as a somewhat emotional defense of
Bush’s environmental policies.
i) Field:
Thesis: The press is not giving fair coverage to the Bush administration’s
positive environmental record.
Amount and Kind of
a) Formal Logic and/or Scientific Exposition:
There is a 27 word summary of the author’s memorandum in this letter, a major
point of the text.
b) Support: examples of successes (69 words); quasi-support: adducing of
verifiable claims based on the authority of the writer, (63 words), much more support
would be needed to make this “scientific” however.
d) Value-Laden Descriptors: Morally charged words: “the problem Bush has
experienced is getting fair coverage”; “a fair reading makes clear ...”; “a responsible
course of action”’ “a bold initiative”; “the distortion of the intent and content of my
memorandum”; “the conference was a success”; comparatives/superlatives: “stronger
laws,” “spends more money.”

46
ii) Tenor:
Charge to the Reader: implicit charge — Don’t trust the media; support George
Bush.
Interpersonal Strategies: There are very few general interpersonal strategies in
this letter. The only ones of mention are the two first person references: “my,” “that we
ultimately did not sign.”
Appeal to Ethos: There are two types of ethical appeal present in this text. The
first, oddly enough, is the theme itself of the letter. Thus, if one counts the number of
words which function as bolstering up the reputation of the writer, and hence the Bush
administration, one could say that 67% of the letter consists of a direct ethical appeal. The
first part of this appeal can be seen in the paragraph defending a letter written by the
author previously: “The distortion of the intent and content of my memorandum on the
Earth Summit in Rio to Environmental Protection Agency employees is symptomatic of
the problem the Bush administration has experienced in getting fair news coverage for an
environmental record that is substantive, significant and impressive,” (46 words). The
second thematic ethical appeal points to the technical accomplishments of the Bush
administration compared with those of other nations at the summit: “The United States
has stronger laws, spends more money and takes the protection of endangered wildlife
more seriously than any other country on earth. That we ultimately did not sign this
convention reflects serious concerns relating to financing and protection of intellectual
property rights that had nothing to do with protecting biological diversity,” (63 words).
The second type of ethical appeal implicit in the letter rests on the credentials of
the writer, William K. Reilly, Administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency.

47
Appeal to Pathos: The emotions of the reader are only tangentially engaged in
this letter by the brief references to the audience’s sense of fair play. That is, the writer
wishes to present himself as an aggrieved party who has been victimized by hostile
players (i.e., the media and the environment). This can be seen in the wording: “the
distortion,” and “a fair reading.” These expressions are meant primarily to evoke
agreement, but they probably also to some extent evoke sympathy from the readers for a
victim of injustice.
iii) Mode: Language — Constitutive
III: Letter to Constituents
This item is similar to the political infomercials and advertisements typically run
on television. Here Congressman Waxman seeks to inform his constituents of the
positive role he is playing on their behalf in Washington. He discusses two main issues in
the letter: healthcare and environmental successes. Here I focus only on the portion of the
newsletter that deals with what Waxman is doing to keep our air and water clean. Of
interest is how this letter might differ structurally from regular Letters to the Editor and
Editorials which often are just as politically charged.
5) Waxman, H. (March 1994). Keeping Our Air and Drinking Water Clean; this
sample is taken from Mr. Waxman’s monthly Letter to Constituents, approx. 200 words.
i) Field:
Thesis: Waxman assures us that our drinking water is safe and our air is healthy
to breathe.

48
Amount and Kind of:
a) Formal Logic and/or Scientific Exposition: 0 — The letter is informative, not
explanatory or expository.9
b) Support: 0 — There is no support given for any of the claims.
d) Value-Laden Descriptors: “I strongly oppose this effort”; “one of my
proudest achievements,” “I’m concerned that ...”
ii) Tenor:
Charge to the Reader: a) explicit ethical charge: have confidence in Henry
Waxman; b) implicit transactional10
charge: reelect Waxman.
Interpersonal Strategies: Waxman employs three interpersonal strategies:
common ground reference, use of imperatives, and first/second person pronouns.
Common ground is established through the “here and now” effect of present and present
perfect verb tenses. This is reinforced by Waxman’s use of the first and second person:
“our drinking water is safe,” “our air is healthy to breathe,” “we will continue oversight to
ensure...” “I sponsored,” “I strongly oppose,” “I count it as,” “one of my proudest
achievements,” and “I’m concerned that ...” With the use of “we” Waxman eliminates the
distance between himself and the reader. Waxman also appeals to all readers’ basic
values, i.e., “[a]ssuring that our drinking water is safe and our air is healthy to breathe ...”
Waxman then reaches out to the reader and shakes him up as it were with his use of modal
9
For a fuller discussion, see p. 80
10
I use the word “transactional” here in the Brittonian conative (1970) sense in which the speaker uses language to
get the addressee to do something, as reported by Halliday and Hasan (1989: 17).

49
imperatives: thus, “[n]ow, specific measures must be implemented and actual controls
installed.” His absolute injunctions show the reader that he is in control. They also touch
upon the readers’ fears that if these things are not done, the reader will suffer. One must
note that the emotional component of this letter lies principally in the fact that Waxman
provides no support for his claims. He generates an urgency in his message to
constituents by alarming them with no evidence and basically tells them that to avert
disaster they must put faith in his actions. Emotion is involved here, not reason.
Appeal to Ethos: Basically, the overriding message of this letter is an ethical one,
despite its purported public health/environmental significance. In sum, Waxman portrays
himself as a savior of the people. This is seen through the pictures shown on the page and
throughout the wording of the letter. Thus, Waxman shows himself as opposing the
weakening of “essential legislation”: “I strongly oppose this effort [i.e., to dilute certain
legislation]” he writes, “and will continue to work to renew the Safe Drinking Water Act
without weakening the law’s public health protections.” He’s an enactor of basic
legislation: “The landmark Clean Air Act of 1990 took ten years to enact into law,” he
points out, “and I count it as one of my proudest achievements in Congress.” Finally,
Waxman has it made known that he is a sponsor of basic legislation: “In 1986, Congress
passed legislation I sponsored that established a system for keeping contaminants out of
drinking water and ensuring the public was notified if standards were violated.”
Appeal to Pathos: As mentioned above, the emotional impact on the audience is
twofold: 1) the ad arouses the readers’ fears of bad drinking water and fears that 2) the
legislation preventing this evil is coming under attack – “Now that the law is under attack
by water companies seeking to relax its requirements.”

50
iii) Mode: Language
—Almost Constitutive: there are accompanying pictures of Waxman on the
pages.
IV: Editorials
Compared with newspaper letters to the editor and political letters to constituents,
there seem few novel traits to be found in the “editorial” genre. Of note in all the above
are possibilities for structural and stylistic variation.
6) ‘Greening’ of Vermont (June 29, 1993: 18). The Christian Science Monitor. approx.
520 words.
Summary: this editorial advocates and defends a broader-based
concept of environmental issues, namely, the inclusion of an area’s
“beauty” and “serenity” as environmental concerns. These are
being threatened, according to the author, by megamalls and discount
stores.
i) Field:
Thesis: We must begin to reconsider environmental issues on a broader basis:
considering such elements as beauty and serenity as parts of the environment to be
protected.
Amount and Kind of:
a) Formal Logic and/or Scientific Exposition: (0). There is not a great deal of
definition, induction, rigorous deduction etc. to be found in this text. It is largely
informative: fact plus interpretation.

51
b) Support: All claims here are either supported or attributed to an authority. It
is, for example, the “National Trust for Historic Preservation” which has placed Vermont
first on their endangered state list; it is the President of the National Association whose
fears are discussed; it is the Chamber of Commerce who calls the placement of Vermont
atop the list as a “gross overreaction,” and finally it is “critics” who have brought forth the
remaining facts presented. One also finds an example by analogy here. Quotation,
therefore, is the chief source of support for this text.
d) Value-Laden Descriptors: this text is marked not so much by individual
adjectives that weigh the writer’s opinion, but by complete sentences that simply express
value judgments – exactly what one would expect to find in editorial writing.
ii) Tenor:
Charge to the Reader: Expand your concept of environmental issues and
measures, i.e., agree with the claims made here.
Interpersonal Strategies: Two main interpersonal strategies are pursued here: 1)
establishment of common ground between encoder and decoder; and 2) direct address
through rhetorical questions. First of all, one must note that the text is framed in a ‘here
and now’ scenario meant to include the reader. “At a time when the list of endangered
species and habitats seems to grow longer by the day,” opens the article, “Americans have
become accustomed to hearing environmental alarms.” This opening, however, not only
succeeds in constructing a shared time between the reader and writer, it also addresses the
reader’s probable state of mind. According to Katherine Rowan’s explanatory theories

52
(1988), this approach of first approximating the reader or learner’s current understanding
of an issue and then expanding from there is a perfect example of the “transformative”
approach to explanation. That is, instead of just presenting new facts to the reader in what
is referred to by Rowan as a “quasi-scientific” approach to explanation, the writer seeks to
transform the reader’s present concept. This requires the writer (or speaker) to know or
guess at the reader’s/learner’s starting base of knowledge. As I will argue later, this
approach to explanation also applies to persuasion. You can see the writer actually
slipping into the mind of the average reader and expressing his probable questions in the
form of rhetorical questions in the text. Thus, “But who could have predicted that the
latest candidate for protection is the verdant landscape of an entire state?” can be seen as
the reader’s probable response to (and surprise at) the information thus far presented.
There are two other strategic rhetorical questions which do the actual “transforming.” The
first of these again takes the reader’s point of view: “Is this first-place standing a ‘gross
overreaction,’ as the head of the Vermont Chamber of Commerce has charged?” The
second then subtly introduces the writer’s point of view which he will try to persuade the
reader to adopt: “Or is it a legitimate way to help environmental groups capture public
support as they guard against overdevelopment?” Finally, the answer the writer gives
eliminates any point of contention between the reader and writer. Thus the answer:
“Probably both”; and the mechanism of persuading the reader is now in full swing. Of
course, such a “transformative” view of learning or in this case persuasion, simply gives a
name to the age-old injunction of the rhetors to understand your audience and to frame
your discourse with them firmly in mind.

53
Appeal to Ethos: 0
Appeal to Pathos: The chief emotion evoked and exploited in this editorial is the
reader’s fear. Clearly, one need only separate out the urgent and unsettling vocabulary
used throughout the text, to see that the writer’s goal is on an elemental level to alarm the
reader. A sampling of the typical call of alarm seen in many of these texts is evident
below. Thus, in this case at risk is
The verdant landscape of an entire state . . . the whole state is at siege
. . . Vermont, all 9,609 square miles of it, has just been placed at the
tip of the 1993 list of ‘Most Endangered Historic Places’ . . . The non-
profit group’s concern that a proliferation of megamalls and chain
discount stores threatens the area’s beauty and serenity . . . It sounds a
warning . . . Once a rain forest has been felled, for instance, its
ancient trees and complex ecosystems are gone – for good. . . . Closer
to home . . . there’s no going back to a bucolic state . . . ‘Save the
cows’ . . . if it alerts people a problem before it’s too late for anything
but regrets.
iii) Mode: Language – Constitutive
7) Porter, E.J. (June 29, 1993: 20). View from Capitol Hill: Earth Summit goals
essential. The Christian Science Monitor. Approx. 520 words.
Summary: Informs the reader of the newly agreed upon Earth
Summit accords; points out a problem with enforcing these
agreements. Draws an analogy with the Helsinki accords and
proposes establishment of a monitoring committee.
i) Field:
Thesis: The goal of the Earth Summit accords are worthwhile; we now need to
establish a new organization to enforce these accords.
Amount and Kind of:
a) Formal Logic and/or Scientific Exposition: 0. (enthymemic logic)

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