Schweizer, Sarah, Jessica L. Thompson, Tara Teel, and Brett Bruyere. 2009. Strategies for Communicating About Climate Change Impacts on Public Lands. Science Communication, 31 (2): 266-274.
The researchers discuss a three-day workshop held in 2008 by the State of Colorado. The workshop covered opportunities and challenges related to communicating climate change on public lands. The workshop included 41 land managers and scientists. After presentations by climate change scientists, the workshop started. It included four components: creating message themes, communicating complex scientific topics to the public, exploring what other agencies are doing in regards to climate change communication, and finally, through breakout sections, designing communication strategies (268-269).
Later, after several presentations and information sessions, the workshop developed the following list of key messages about climate change impacts (verbatim list, 270).
- Human choices have an impact on climate change.
- The impacts of climate change are occurring more quickly than initially predicted.
- The future will look different, and we must adapt to it.
- Climate change impacts will vary by location. Some area will become hotter, some colder; some drier, and some wetter.
- Climate change is like gravity—it affects everyone.
- Climate change affects you and the places important to you.
- Addressing climate change will require a combination of actions at multiple scales, from international, national, state, and local policy to individual behaviors.
- Climate change will have significant social and economic impacts. This is a matter of not only saving the planet but also saving ourselves.
- You can help make a difference in addressing climate change.
The workshop attendees agreed that these messages could draw more attention and lead to action among several audiences. Communication should focus on local climate change impacts that are current and resonate with community stakeholders. For me, the interesting outcome from this workshop was how non-communicators, after a little prepping, were able to come up with some solid messages that could benefit their organizations’ communication plans.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Catching the attention of the world
Beck, Ulrich. 2010. “Climate for Change, or How to Create a Green Modernity?” Theory, Culture, & Society, 27 (2): 254-266.
In this essay, Ulrich Beck presents a series of arguments to underscore his concerns about global climate change. He’s baffled by the lack of urgency on the matter. He recommends building support among everyday people, moving the conversations from the rick to the poor, so they will see things differently and create a political undercurrent that will motivate leaders to take real action. Beck uses Max Weber’s saying, “Until the last ton of fossil fuel has burnt to ashes,” as a metaphor. Weber views industrial capitalism as having an insatiable hunger for natural resources. It undermines its own its own needs by depleting what it needs to survive (255-256).
Beck claims that there is a “new sociology of social inequality.” It equates social with national inequality. It can no longer suppose that national and international areas will remain distinct. But for Beck, there is no official rhetoric of the interrelationships among global populations. However, there is a sharpening of what we see in everyday life, a momentum that can be used to address the social inequalities of climate change (257-258).
Another important point Beck makes is that climate risks are not equal to climate catastrophes. Climate catastrophes are seen as natural disasters out of our control, but climate risks create anticipations of future disasters, and motivate us to prevent them. When the world public finally discovers that their nation-state system is being undermined global climate change risks, a more cosmopolitan vision will emerge. It will enable people to see themselves as part of an endangered world and as part of their local histories and the need for survival (259).
As the Western news media becomes more concerned with global climate change, they will flex their infotainment expertise by heightening the drama of climate change news stories, claims Beck. It will give people a climate change focus, spurring further discourse and calls to action. This will lead to new ways of consumption that will turn things around (262-263).
Of course, Becks essay is entirely subjective, but he makes his case well. His ideas, while a stretch at time, are not entirely undoable. But who is he speaking to? Aren’t the readers of his essay the elite who has been squandering time as the problems worsen? If he truly desires change, perhaps he should reframe his message for more accessible outlets that will reach a broader audience.
In this essay, Ulrich Beck presents a series of arguments to underscore his concerns about global climate change. He’s baffled by the lack of urgency on the matter. He recommends building support among everyday people, moving the conversations from the rick to the poor, so they will see things differently and create a political undercurrent that will motivate leaders to take real action. Beck uses Max Weber’s saying, “Until the last ton of fossil fuel has burnt to ashes,” as a metaphor. Weber views industrial capitalism as having an insatiable hunger for natural resources. It undermines its own its own needs by depleting what it needs to survive (255-256).
Beck claims that there is a “new sociology of social inequality.” It equates social with national inequality. It can no longer suppose that national and international areas will remain distinct. But for Beck, there is no official rhetoric of the interrelationships among global populations. However, there is a sharpening of what we see in everyday life, a momentum that can be used to address the social inequalities of climate change (257-258).
Another important point Beck makes is that climate risks are not equal to climate catastrophes. Climate catastrophes are seen as natural disasters out of our control, but climate risks create anticipations of future disasters, and motivate us to prevent them. When the world public finally discovers that their nation-state system is being undermined global climate change risks, a more cosmopolitan vision will emerge. It will enable people to see themselves as part of an endangered world and as part of their local histories and the need for survival (259).
As the Western news media becomes more concerned with global climate change, they will flex their infotainment expertise by heightening the drama of climate change news stories, claims Beck. It will give people a climate change focus, spurring further discourse and calls to action. This will lead to new ways of consumption that will turn things around (262-263).
Of course, Becks essay is entirely subjective, but he makes his case well. His ideas, while a stretch at time, are not entirely undoable. But who is he speaking to? Aren’t the readers of his essay the elite who has been squandering time as the problems worsen? If he truly desires change, perhaps he should reframe his message for more accessible outlets that will reach a broader audience.
Climate change as brand
Frandsen, Finn, and Winni Johansen. 2011. “Rhetoric, Climate Change, and Corporate Identity Management.” Management Communication Quarterly, 25 (3): 511-530.
Danish communication researchers Finn Fransen and Winni Johansen dive into the rhetoric of corporate identity management as it relates to global climate change and the environment. They use a case study that follows U.S. and Scandinavian automobile makers. They focus on the rhetorical aspects of corporate identity management as practiced by companies that are adhering to a new “institutional superstandard.” They work with Kjell Arne Revøk’s theory of the institutional process as organizational identity management, which argues that organizations are more likely to adopt new institutionalized rules when they experience their identity as being challenged or problematic. They also are inspired by the work of W. H. Scott and his three pillars of institutions—a regulative model that was popular in the 1970s, a narrative model that replaced the regulative component in the 1980s, and a cultural-cognitive model that is popular today (512, 517).
In regards to branding, Frandsen and Johansen discuss new approaches to commercialized green discourses that join with rhetoric framed by nature, the environment, or the greenness of organizations. They also note the changes in corporate environmentalist identity, with a shift in meaning from green to blue. Green branding mostly serves as a marketing function and blue branding takes a corporate communication path that includes corporate branding, corporate social responsibility, and human resources (514).
Frandsen and Johansen explain that climate change branding can be described as a group of ideas integrated into a complex process of institutionalization, wherein companies get involved in action-producing initiatives like developing climate strategies, designing climate-friendly products or production processes, and new, ecology-minded forms of internal and external communication. Interestingly, Frandsen and Johansen note that early neoinstitutional scholars in America tended to view organizations as passive receivers, but their Scandinavian counterparts saw them as active collective actors who defined communication, including its processes. With neoinstitutional theory, organizations adopt new institutionalized rules that gain legitimacy from their institutional context. However, the type of legitimacy they gain depends on the stakeholder group. (516, 519, 523).
As Frandsen and Johansen analyzed the corporate identity management of the automobile makers, they learned that the idea of climate change was not mentioned in “identity-bound” texts on any of these companies’ websites. Such texts would include mission and vision statements, lists of corporate values, and historical timelines. However, there were texts that fused responsibility with competitiveness. Also, there was a “logic of responsibility” in the texts, with an integration of the ideas of growth and reduction of consumption (524-526).
In closing, the researchers said they found that the institutionalization of climate change has begun in the automobile industry, but it has a long way to go. Within this process, a new vocabulary is emerging. The car companies are developing new texts to underscore ideas related to environmental stewardship and responsible growth. However, it is still too early to say what these emerging rhetorical constructions will convey, and how companies will adapt to become the environmentally-friendly business model their brands exemplify (527-528).
Danish communication researchers Finn Fransen and Winni Johansen dive into the rhetoric of corporate identity management as it relates to global climate change and the environment. They use a case study that follows U.S. and Scandinavian automobile makers. They focus on the rhetorical aspects of corporate identity management as practiced by companies that are adhering to a new “institutional superstandard.” They work with Kjell Arne Revøk’s theory of the institutional process as organizational identity management, which argues that organizations are more likely to adopt new institutionalized rules when they experience their identity as being challenged or problematic. They also are inspired by the work of W. H. Scott and his three pillars of institutions—a regulative model that was popular in the 1970s, a narrative model that replaced the regulative component in the 1980s, and a cultural-cognitive model that is popular today (512, 517).
In regards to branding, Frandsen and Johansen discuss new approaches to commercialized green discourses that join with rhetoric framed by nature, the environment, or the greenness of organizations. They also note the changes in corporate environmentalist identity, with a shift in meaning from green to blue. Green branding mostly serves as a marketing function and blue branding takes a corporate communication path that includes corporate branding, corporate social responsibility, and human resources (514).
Frandsen and Johansen explain that climate change branding can be described as a group of ideas integrated into a complex process of institutionalization, wherein companies get involved in action-producing initiatives like developing climate strategies, designing climate-friendly products or production processes, and new, ecology-minded forms of internal and external communication. Interestingly, Frandsen and Johansen note that early neoinstitutional scholars in America tended to view organizations as passive receivers, but their Scandinavian counterparts saw them as active collective actors who defined communication, including its processes. With neoinstitutional theory, organizations adopt new institutionalized rules that gain legitimacy from their institutional context. However, the type of legitimacy they gain depends on the stakeholder group. (516, 519, 523).
As Frandsen and Johansen analyzed the corporate identity management of the automobile makers, they learned that the idea of climate change was not mentioned in “identity-bound” texts on any of these companies’ websites. Such texts would include mission and vision statements, lists of corporate values, and historical timelines. However, there were texts that fused responsibility with competitiveness. Also, there was a “logic of responsibility” in the texts, with an integration of the ideas of growth and reduction of consumption (524-526).
In closing, the researchers said they found that the institutionalization of climate change has begun in the automobile industry, but it has a long way to go. Within this process, a new vocabulary is emerging. The car companies are developing new texts to underscore ideas related to environmental stewardship and responsible growth. However, it is still too early to say what these emerging rhetorical constructions will convey, and how companies will adapt to become the environmentally-friendly business model their brands exemplify (527-528).
When scientists become advocates: the evolution and use of climate change rhetoric
Hamblyn, Richard. 2009. “The whistleblower and the Canary: Rhetorical Constructions of Climate Change.” Journal of Historical Geography, 35 (2): 223-236.
In “The whistleblower and the canary: rhetorical constructions of climate change,” Richard Hamblyn writes about the history and consequences of climate change rhetoric that originates from the scientific community, and also how these rhetorical constructions affect the current debate. From a U.K.-centric point of view, Hamlin begins by explaining that today’s prominent climate change narrative, which emphasizes human responsibility, has led science communicators to evaluate how that narrative, when filtered through popular media, affects lay audiences. His central thesis aims to cover historical dimensions of contemporary climate change rhetoric, and argue that the history of understanding climate change has itself become integrated into the rhetoric (224).
Hamblyn begins his timeline with a paper presented in 1895 by Svante Arrhenius, a Swedish chemist, at the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. Entitled “On the Influence of Carbonic Acid in the air upon the Temperature of the Ground,” it outlined how increased concentrations of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere would likely impact the temperature of the Earth (the paper was published in English the following year). Today, Arrhenius’s description of a hypothetically warming world and concerns with resulting stresses on the global population, along with an argument colored by literary conceits and tropes, has become central to most climate change debates (225-226).
Next, Hamblyn explores how politics intersect with science in climate change discourses. Usually, it is difficult for a scientist to drop his or her perceived political neutrality to argue for policy changes. But global climate change science has become an exception, and much of the public debate has been led by the scientists (226).
Many individual scientists who have become elevated in the global climate change policy debate have been portrayed by the news media as the “lone voice,” whistleblowers who come forward with alarming information about the condition of our planet. Consider Sir David King, a former chief scientific adviser for the U.K. government, who had publicly drawn comparisons between global climate change and global terror. In 2004, a newspaper leaked a memo King had received from then Prime Minister Tony Blair’s chief private secretary. It instructed him to avoid the use of the word “terrorism” and to instead use talking points that were contained within. Conversely, climate change skeptics have intentionally tried to adopt this “lone voice” persona, but with little success (228, 230).
Similar to the lone voice, climate change rhetoric in the natural world can be elevated through what Hamblyn calls “canaries.” He uses the term as a metaphor. British coal miners used to take caged birds into the pits to serve as an alarm in case there was looming danger. In Hamblyn’s context, canaries are warning or wake-up calls, like news clips of polar bears swimming where there should be glaciers, or film reels of species that have gone extinct in recent years. Another canary might not include an image, but instead uses first-person testimonies, such as a family who has lost their home to a flood. Lastly, visualizations in the form of charts and graphs, sometimes manipulated for dramatic effects, can also be canaries (231-232).
Hamlyn doesn’t present his lone voice or canary examples as truths, but instead as hyperbole that can detract from productive climate change conversations and policy-making. People eventually tune out, feeling a sense of hopelessness and inevitability. Scientists, in their advocacy for change, Hamlyn suggests, have contributed to a narrative that might have run its course and is now working against their cause.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Where does conservation writing come from, and how is it used?
Johnson-Sheehan, Richard and Lawrence Morgan. 2009. “Conservation Writing: An Emerging Field in Technical Communication.” Technical Communication Quarterly, 18 (1): 9-27.
In their article, “Conservation Writing: An Emerging Field in Technical Communication,” Richard Johnson-Sheehan and Lawrence Morgan provide a historical survey of conservation literature, a discussion of the most common forms of conservation writing, and make the case for integrating conservation writing into technical communication programs, as well as science programs related to conservation. Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan explain that conservation writing sandwiches itself somewhere in between nature writing and science writing. It explores the great outdoors and ecology, but without personal reflection. It places science evidence above personal experience. It also has political and bureaucratic dimensions, but maintains a pragmatic voice. It is useful, practical, and proactive, but without much attention on developing reflective, descriptive, or practical elements to the text. Most prominently, conservation writing differs from science or nature writing through its use of “advocacy in action.” The overarching theme of conservation writing suggests that the outdoors is not only to be admired and used, but also to be preserved, protected, and made sustainable (10-11).
In North America, conservation writing is most likely rooted in the works of the Transcendentalist writers of the early nineteenth century, especially Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. But these are early examples of nature writing. Not until George Perking Marsh’s book, The Earth Modified by Human Action, first published in 1868, did we see what today would be called conservation writing. For example, Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan excerpt the first paragraph of that book (12).
The object of the present volume is: to indicate the character and, approximately, the extent of the changes produced by human action in physical conditions of the globe we inhabit; to point out the dangers of imprudence and the necessity of caution in all operations which, on a large scale, interfere with the spontaneous arrangements of the organic or inorganic world; to suggest the possibility and the importance of the restoration of disturbed harmonies and the material improvement of waste and exhausted regions; and, incidentally, to illustrate the doctrine that man is, in both kind and degree, a power of higher order than any of the other forms of animated life, which, like him, are nourished at the table of bounteous nature. (p. vii)
In their article, “Conservation Writing: An Emerging Field in Technical Communication,” Richard Johnson-Sheehan and Lawrence Morgan provide a historical survey of conservation literature, a discussion of the most common forms of conservation writing, and make the case for integrating conservation writing into technical communication programs, as well as science programs related to conservation. Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan explain that conservation writing sandwiches itself somewhere in between nature writing and science writing. It explores the great outdoors and ecology, but without personal reflection. It places science evidence above personal experience. It also has political and bureaucratic dimensions, but maintains a pragmatic voice. It is useful, practical, and proactive, but without much attention on developing reflective, descriptive, or practical elements to the text. Most prominently, conservation writing differs from science or nature writing through its use of “advocacy in action.” The overarching theme of conservation writing suggests that the outdoors is not only to be admired and used, but also to be preserved, protected, and made sustainable (10-11).
In North America, conservation writing is most likely rooted in the works of the Transcendentalist writers of the early nineteenth century, especially Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. But these are early examples of nature writing. Not until George Perking Marsh’s book, The Earth Modified by Human Action, first published in 1868, did we see what today would be called conservation writing. For example, Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan excerpt the first paragraph of that book (12).
The object of the present volume is: to indicate the character and, approximately, the extent of the changes produced by human action in physical conditions of the globe we inhabit; to point out the dangers of imprudence and the necessity of caution in all operations which, on a large scale, interfere with the spontaneous arrangements of the organic or inorganic world; to suggest the possibility and the importance of the restoration of disturbed harmonies and the material improvement of waste and exhausted regions; and, incidentally, to illustrate the doctrine that man is, in both kind and degree, a power of higher order than any of the other forms of animated life, which, like him, are nourished at the table of bounteous nature. (p. vii)
Personally, I find it striking how this 144-year-old text is so similar to much of the conservation rhetoric that can be found today. Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan also name John Burroghs, Sierra Club founder John Muir, and our 26th president of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt, as fathers of conservation writing style (12-13). More contemporary conservation writers include Rachel Carson, famous for her 1962 work, Silent Spring, which exposed the ecological damage of synthetic pesticides like DDT, and another political figure, former vice president Al Gore, famous for his book, Earth in Balance (1992), and the book and documentary film An Inconvenient Truth (2006). Gore’s work focuses on concerns with global climate change (15-17).
Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan follow their historical survey with a discussion of the various genres of conservation writing. They note how several of these genres are influenced by government policy and conventions. They claim student will benefit from learning how to write for each genre, such as analytical reports, feature essays, environmental impact statements, and grants, among others (17-19).
Finally, Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan describe pedagogical strategies to help with teaching conservation writing. They explain that technical writing courses and programs tend to be centered on the needs of engineers, so, unfortunately, students interested in conservation issues have trouble finding classes that reflect their interests. Teachers who would like to cover conservation writing should focus on the expository or narrative aspects of its form. Students will need to practice conservation writing across all of its genres, too. They will also need a solid understanding of current and emerging conservation issues. Most importantly, students must learn how to make ecological information clear and easy to understand for a variety of audiences and stakeholders (23-26).
I recommend this article for anyone interested in environmental rhetoric. Johnson-Sheehan and Morgan do an excellent job of succinctly chronicling the evolution of conservation writing while discussing its uses and many pedagogical approaches.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Global climate change: how apocalyptic narratives can educate and engage
Spoel, Philippa, David Goforth, Hoi Cheu, and David Pearson. 2009. “Public Communication of Climate Change Science: Engaging Citizens Through Apocalyptic Narrative Explanation.” Technical Communication Quarterly, 18 (1): 49-81.
Philippa Spoel, David Goforth, Hoi Cheu, and David Pearson tackle the “apocalyptic narrative of climate change” as an attention-grabbing tool to spur conversations about climate issues. The apocalyptic narrative idea, they explain, comes from the work of M.J. Killingsworth and J.S. Palmer, whose research identifies the prevalence of apocalyptic narratives in the environmental movement, and Stephen Norris, who has written about the important roles narratives can play in science education. To illustrate the concept, the writers look at two public communication projects that represent two genres of climate change rhetoric. The first, An Inconvenient Truth (AIT), uses documentary filmmaking to feature Al Gore, the former vice president of the United States, lecturing on climate change. Next, the Climate Change Show (CCS) was an internationally distributed multimedia theater project produced by Project North, a science center in northern Ontario.
Interestingly, both public communication projects convey climate change information within the looser construct of cultural thought processes rather than a strict technical thought process, bridging personal virtues into a broader science policy conversation. Ideally, such efforts can lead public audiences to better understand climate change issues and become more engaged in meaningful conversations on the topic. Unfortunately, developing public expertise on science topics presents rhetorical challenges. The subject matter must be conditioned to adapt to multiple narratives and audiences (51-52).
In an effort to better understand how rhetoric can be used to create engaging forms of public understanding, Spoel, Goforth, Cheu, and Pearson provide a brief analysis that explores the role of “apocalyptic narrative explanation in AIT’s and CCS’s communication of climate change science” in the wake of the United Nations’ Kyoto Accord of 1997—a multinational policy agreement to address climate change. The United States would not participate in the Kyoto Accord based on the grounds that emerging economies weren’t required to adhere to its guidelines, and due to concerns that the U.S. economy might be harmed in the process. By evaluating the narrative strategies of AIT and CCS, the writers examine the logical structuring of claims of evidence, emotional appeals used in each episode, and the overarching questions regarding the development of public scientific knowledge and engagement as a catalyst for meaningful public discourse and policy-making. However, the viewing experience does not itself provide the audience with enough of a foundation to directly or immediately engage in intelligent scientific conversations (53-54, 75).
The writers’ found that the framework of apocalyptic narrative served as an important rhetorical tool for explaining climate change within cultural thought processes that co-opted a technical thought process, among others. Also, when conveying complex scientific information to a lay audience, there are going to be gaps in understanding that require a bridge. That bridge is the audience’s faith in the scientist or surrogate as narrator. In other words, the logos of the scientific narrative must be combined with a trustworthy ethos to build understanding. Technical details, then, need to be folded into a framework of cultural rationality that fosters social awareness and concern (74-75, 77).
The important takeaway from this article is that using apocalyptic framing can bring a sense of tremendous importance and urgency to an audience of any topic, provided that the narrator is skillful at storytelling. Also, taking complex scientific concepts and placing them within easy-to-understand parables can help audiences better understand the material. However, while such framing draws connections to their everyday lives, it does not necessarily mean that they will be able to participate in highly intellectual discussions on these science topics.
Philippa Spoel, David Goforth, Hoi Cheu, and David Pearson tackle the “apocalyptic narrative of climate change” as an attention-grabbing tool to spur conversations about climate issues. The apocalyptic narrative idea, they explain, comes from the work of M.J. Killingsworth and J.S. Palmer, whose research identifies the prevalence of apocalyptic narratives in the environmental movement, and Stephen Norris, who has written about the important roles narratives can play in science education. To illustrate the concept, the writers look at two public communication projects that represent two genres of climate change rhetoric. The first, An Inconvenient Truth (AIT), uses documentary filmmaking to feature Al Gore, the former vice president of the United States, lecturing on climate change. Next, the Climate Change Show (CCS) was an internationally distributed multimedia theater project produced by Project North, a science center in northern Ontario.
Interestingly, both public communication projects convey climate change information within the looser construct of cultural thought processes rather than a strict technical thought process, bridging personal virtues into a broader science policy conversation. Ideally, such efforts can lead public audiences to better understand climate change issues and become more engaged in meaningful conversations on the topic. Unfortunately, developing public expertise on science topics presents rhetorical challenges. The subject matter must be conditioned to adapt to multiple narratives and audiences (51-52).
In an effort to better understand how rhetoric can be used to create engaging forms of public understanding, Spoel, Goforth, Cheu, and Pearson provide a brief analysis that explores the role of “apocalyptic narrative explanation in AIT’s and CCS’s communication of climate change science” in the wake of the United Nations’ Kyoto Accord of 1997—a multinational policy agreement to address climate change. The United States would not participate in the Kyoto Accord based on the grounds that emerging economies weren’t required to adhere to its guidelines, and due to concerns that the U.S. economy might be harmed in the process. By evaluating the narrative strategies of AIT and CCS, the writers examine the logical structuring of claims of evidence, emotional appeals used in each episode, and the overarching questions regarding the development of public scientific knowledge and engagement as a catalyst for meaningful public discourse and policy-making. However, the viewing experience does not itself provide the audience with enough of a foundation to directly or immediately engage in intelligent scientific conversations (53-54, 75).
The writers’ found that the framework of apocalyptic narrative served as an important rhetorical tool for explaining climate change within cultural thought processes that co-opted a technical thought process, among others. Also, when conveying complex scientific information to a lay audience, there are going to be gaps in understanding that require a bridge. That bridge is the audience’s faith in the scientist or surrogate as narrator. In other words, the logos of the scientific narrative must be combined with a trustworthy ethos to build understanding. Technical details, then, need to be folded into a framework of cultural rationality that fosters social awareness and concern (74-75, 77).
The important takeaway from this article is that using apocalyptic framing can bring a sense of tremendous importance and urgency to an audience of any topic, provided that the narrator is skillful at storytelling. Also, taking complex scientific concepts and placing them within easy-to-understand parables can help audiences better understand the material. However, while such framing draws connections to their everyday lives, it does not necessarily mean that they will be able to participate in highly intellectual discussions on these science topics.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Bryan Tutt looks at framing global climate change
Tutt, Bryan. 2009. “Frames in reports and in reporting: How framing affects global information in the intergovernmental panel on climate change’s ‘Summary for Policymakers’ and in documents written about the report.” Journal of Technical Writing and Communication, 39 (1): 43-55
The article, “Frames in reports and in reporting: How framing affects global information in the intergovernmental panel on climate change’s ‘Summary for Policymakers’ and in documents written about the report,” appeared in a 2009 edition of the Journal of Technical Writing and Communication. In it, Bryan Tutt analyzes how technical communicators are prone to use to framing to give information context within their reports, and how and journalists do the same in their corresponding coverage. Rhetorical devices such as metaphor can persuade readers, but framing, a tactic for text organization, might go undetected by less savvy readers.
Tutt discusses the techniques and effects of framing by analyzing a technical report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the “Summary for Policymakers,” along with related news articles and oil industry press releases. He aims to reveal how the same information can be framed differently in documents from separate sources as a way to advance agendas. He asks three questions: What techniques are used to frame each document? How does framing support other rhetorical devices used by the writers? And finally, how does framing the source document affect information picked up by content written about the report?
The author uses Kuypers’s “four reportorial practices of sandwiching anti-position statements between pro-position statements, lopsided use of sources, labeling, and omission of alternate facts. Tutt chooses intertextual frame analysis for his approach. He appropriates Aristotle’s logos, ethos, and pathos when they relate to structure and style elements used for framing. He also acknowledges that the scientific world view forms part of the frame for science writing (46-47).
In his analysis, Tutt determines the report uses an understated form of language, especially for issues that would likely cause human suffering. For example, in its discussion of how climate change will affect agriculture in Africa, powerful words like “famine” or “starvation” are omitted while descriptions like “access to food” being “compromised” and “food security” being “adversely affected” are included. Although human suffering is not highlighted in the report, it is in there. The words “death” and “mortality” each appear five times (48).
Next, Tutt discusses dual framing in both a subdued factual report and a call to action. This is because several writers contributed multiple agendas. A reporter for the Associated Press (AP) points out that the original document included “hundreds of millions” of potential flood victims, while the finished report instead uses “many millions.” Plus, an important mention of “up to 120 million people” potentially starving was withheld. The AP writer’s framing casts scientists as data-driven heroes and diplomats as either weak or evil (48-49). Tutt also reviews a New York Times article that frames the information as irrefutable evidence justifying a call to action. In it, scientists are portrayed as brilliant experts while diplomats’ mission is to dilute the facts (49-50). Finally, a BBC News item is framed as fact-based reporting, but without comments from skeptics. While Tutt contends that this BBC story is lopsided, one must also consider the notion of false balance, wherein such information is presented with balance between opposing points of view, yet the arguments on one side are way out of proportion to the other side (51). In other words, since an overwhelming majority of climate scientists agree that global climate change is going to be a big problem in the coming decades, why give voice to skeptics often employed or funded by energy companies and trained in a different science, such as physics or geology? If I were to report that the earth is round, there might be people who continue to believe it is flat, but it would be ridiculous to include those perspectives.
Lastly, Tutt takes on press releases from Exxon Mobile and ConocoPhillips. Of course, framing presents their organizations in the most favorable light, underscoring commitments to environmental stewardship while omitting any mentions of global climate change. He also discusses the framing of a Houston Chronicle story covering the report, but it spends much more soace on the oil industry’s perspective—not surprising, considering that the newspaper serves a city with deep roots in the oil and gas industries.
Tutt concludes that the government report, which was written by committee, doesn’t use a consistent frame, Instead, it was a “hybrid between a bureaucratic report and a call to action” (53). His framing analysis reveals that writers of these and associated documents create frames by being selective with facts, strategically placing information, and using intertextual references. Ultimately, technical communicators (as well as other professional communicators) learn different framing techniques to present information in a desirable context. Going forward, it will be useful to turn a critical eye toward textual framing to consider the writer’s underlying intentions.
Tutt discusses the techniques and effects of framing by analyzing a technical report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the “Summary for Policymakers,” along with related news articles and oil industry press releases. He aims to reveal how the same information can be framed differently in documents from separate sources as a way to advance agendas. He asks three questions: What techniques are used to frame each document? How does framing support other rhetorical devices used by the writers? And finally, how does framing the source document affect information picked up by content written about the report?
The author uses Kuypers’s “four reportorial practices of sandwiching anti-position statements between pro-position statements, lopsided use of sources, labeling, and omission of alternate facts. Tutt chooses intertextual frame analysis for his approach. He appropriates Aristotle’s logos, ethos, and pathos when they relate to structure and style elements used for framing. He also acknowledges that the scientific world view forms part of the frame for science writing (46-47).
In his analysis, Tutt determines the report uses an understated form of language, especially for issues that would likely cause human suffering. For example, in its discussion of how climate change will affect agriculture in Africa, powerful words like “famine” or “starvation” are omitted while descriptions like “access to food” being “compromised” and “food security” being “adversely affected” are included. Although human suffering is not highlighted in the report, it is in there. The words “death” and “mortality” each appear five times (48).
Next, Tutt discusses dual framing in both a subdued factual report and a call to action. This is because several writers contributed multiple agendas. A reporter for the Associated Press (AP) points out that the original document included “hundreds of millions” of potential flood victims, while the finished report instead uses “many millions.” Plus, an important mention of “up to 120 million people” potentially starving was withheld. The AP writer’s framing casts scientists as data-driven heroes and diplomats as either weak or evil (48-49). Tutt also reviews a New York Times article that frames the information as irrefutable evidence justifying a call to action. In it, scientists are portrayed as brilliant experts while diplomats’ mission is to dilute the facts (49-50). Finally, a BBC News item is framed as fact-based reporting, but without comments from skeptics. While Tutt contends that this BBC story is lopsided, one must also consider the notion of false balance, wherein such information is presented with balance between opposing points of view, yet the arguments on one side are way out of proportion to the other side (51). In other words, since an overwhelming majority of climate scientists agree that global climate change is going to be a big problem in the coming decades, why give voice to skeptics often employed or funded by energy companies and trained in a different science, such as physics or geology? If I were to report that the earth is round, there might be people who continue to believe it is flat, but it would be ridiculous to include those perspectives.
Lastly, Tutt takes on press releases from Exxon Mobile and ConocoPhillips. Of course, framing presents their organizations in the most favorable light, underscoring commitments to environmental stewardship while omitting any mentions of global climate change. He also discusses the framing of a Houston Chronicle story covering the report, but it spends much more soace on the oil industry’s perspective—not surprising, considering that the newspaper serves a city with deep roots in the oil and gas industries.
Tutt concludes that the government report, which was written by committee, doesn’t use a consistent frame, Instead, it was a “hybrid between a bureaucratic report and a call to action” (53). His framing analysis reveals that writers of these and associated documents create frames by being selective with facts, strategically placing information, and using intertextual references. Ultimately, technical communicators (as well as other professional communicators) learn different framing techniques to present information in a desirable context. Going forward, it will be useful to turn a critical eye toward textual framing to consider the writer’s underlying intentions.
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