by Gretchen Long (grlong@vassar.edu)

In Signs of Recognition, one of Keane’s main points is that all communicative efforts in social encounters are liable to misinterpretation, resulting in a “hazardous” outcome for the unfortunate speaker. He writes that scenes of encounter “iconically represent social action as a form of dialogue between a pair of speakers” (139): in other words, a situational exchange of speech becomes a complete icon of a larger conflict, so that any discrepancy in the deliverance of linguistic cues and meanings threatens to render the issue at hand beyond resolution. Since all that is known to both parties is that which is expressed in the presence of both parties (i.e. a scene of encounter), “nothing is known except that which has been presented formally… within the… frame of the event.” (156) Therefore, that which is presented becomes the only source of knowledge for negotiation, so presenting things “correctly” becomes very important.

Keane outlines the roles in everyday speech in the beginning of Chapter Six: the animator “voices the words;” the author “determines what words are… said;” and “the words are attributed” to the principal “who is held responsible for them.” (Goffman 1979 in Keane 1997:139) Balancing all three roles may be difficult as one may have clear intentions but lack oratorical charisma, or possess a strong speaking voice but have difficulty forming thoughts into coherent phrases. The difficulty of balancing these three roles is a potential cause of misfires in speech acts. Another source of hazard is in-group “debates over procedure” (148) in which members of a party bicker amongst themselves over correct protocol, further inhibiting the party’s ability to clearly articulate its intents.

As such linguistic errors would be hazardous (in the sense of invoking social embarrassment and stalling the negotiation’s progress,) one way that actors can ensure the efficacy of a social encounter is to employ mediators they know will correctly communicate the necessary information. The Anakalangese accomplish this by appointing wunang to act as mediators between two opposing parties (in events such as bridal negotiations); similarly, other cultures appoint specialists like lawyers to act out similar roles in similar events requiring compromise. Both the wunang and the lawyers take on the role of author and animator, as they are skilled in articulating and composing their principals’ intents in the formal discourse of the situation (the wunang employing structured formal speech and the lawyer using law jargon). There is safety in the explicit nature of formality, and employing a specialist to present one’s case in such terms lessens the likelihood of hazardous speech acts while working towards a negotiation.

Lawyers and wunang also use their expertise “to restrain the excesses and tempers of their principals” (154), preventing their clients from saying something that will ruin the state of their negotiations. How many times have we seen a character in a book or movie lose their case because they wanted to “act as their own lawyer?” The same consequences befall any principal not well-versed in the terms of the conflict. Keane writes that people are often prompted to defend themselves because “the public forum… places… pressure on people’s pride and reputation… [and] gives so many people a say in what transpires” (149), but by electing a representative (“one who represents” the sentiments of another party) to act as a mediator between potentially combative forces in a forum, the principals ensure correct and safe conduct throughout the discussion.

Lawyers can represent anyone (and we actually use the phrase “represent”) just as wunang can stand in for men and women of any class. Likewise, there are not specialized lawyers for men, women, or age groups—any lawyer can represent anyone. Lawyers tend to use deictic, demonstrative speech (“My client says that he left at six o’ clock”), while the wunang actually personifies the person they are referring to by “adopting the ‘voice'” of an individual they are representing (i.e. by using “female speaker kin terms” in formal address [163]). Nonetheless, both forms of speech are still highly presentational in that they emphasize the intentions of the principals in formalized, structured discourse.

One major difference is that there are actually two wunang per Anakalangese party (the “sitting” wunang and the “traveling” wunang) while there is only one lawyer per side (they communicate information to the principals and the larger court, fulfilling the roles of both types of wunang.) A lawyer still engages in their own form of motion, moving between the judge, witness, and jury, and conferring with all. The more public the principals’ intentions are made through the mediator (wunang/lawyer), the more likely it is that negotiations will go smoothly.

To highlight a few crucial differences between wunang and lawyers, I direct you towards the following clip— I recommend watching first minute or so, then skipping to 3:50 and watching to the end (unless you just really like Legally Blonde, which is also fine):

While acknowledging that this is a highly dramatized clip, for all of the wunang’s idiosyncratic alterations in couplet-choice to match the context of their principals’ debate (161), no Anakalangese speaker could ever do what Elle Woods just did. I do not mean that wunang would be incapable of making such a dramatic performance, but that committing such infractions against the formal structure of negotiations would be hazardous to the point of an ancestral intervention resulting in bad luck or an actual fatality. For the Anakalangese, going against an ancestral structure literally endangers the natural order of things, whereas (Western) lawyers going against the grain are often viewed as martyrs, heroes, or geniuses. Even as a principal, Mrs. Windham makes what would be a startling choice to the Anakalangese by choosing Elle to represent her; she chooses a personal favorite over her appointed representative, and values Elle’s creativity over the former lawyer’s formal technique.

Elle’s informal speech actually threatens the breakdown of the scene of encounter, but “formality… may open up possibilities as much as foreclose them.” (144) While methodically and formulaically approaching a case ensures a scrutinizing objectivity, if Elle hadn’t deviated from the formal approach of question-and-answer to deliver an anecdote about her sorority days, the witness never would have been prompted to confess the murder. Nonetheless, Elle’s individualistic approach is largely a Western ideal. Keane warns how “the necessary delegation of voice” to the wunang “threatens to become full detachment” (170) if the wunang is too free with their interpretations, which would fully separate them from the principals’ intents. Thus, if any Anakalangese wunang stepped forward like Elle in a social encounter, the current negotiations would be in danger of immediate termination, and social or spiritual punishments would be brought upon the affronting wunang for such “bald speech” (164) (see 164 for an example).

This is not to say that the Anakalangese dismiss all personal talent in this sphere. When Elle announces her desire to take the case, Mrs. Windham’s former lawyer snaps, “She’s a law student— she can’t defend you.” Practicing law requires specific credentials, whereas “the knowledge just comes” to wunang. (155) Personal skill is valued as not just anyone can become a wunang, but at the same time the specialists’ skill is expected to accentuate ancestral values (and thus, value formal structure) as opposed to developing a new form of negotiation.

* What are some other similarities and differences between Western and Anakalangese legal structures?

* How does the materiality of language play a part in wunangs’ affects? How does a different ideology of language affect Western lawyers’ presentations?

* What are some other examples of delegation of voice?