Unconscious Meanings In Everyday Conversation
During the small-talk stage of conversation where we quickly hop from one topic to another, the important question is, why are certain topics brought into conversations at a particular time, and not others? Is it coincidence, for example, in a conversation that's being openly tape recorded, there are repeated references to the CIA and FBI? Is it coincidence that the topics of "God" or "policeman" frequently selected into discussions whose members have concerns about a leader, trainer, boss, or authority figure who is also in the discussion? And is it coincidence that the topic of child/parent relationships is often selected into a conversation when members harbor concerns about the leader-authority relationship in the discussion. Or is it an accident that the topic of "state employment being a rip off to taxpayers" occurs immediately following my return to a group meeting I was leading after being absent unannounced for two sessions? No, it's no accident.
The topic of "state employment being a rip off to taxpayers" reflects members' resentment at my being absent from the meetings and thus feeling they were not getting what they paid for-just as taxpayers often feel ripped off because of the benefits government workers receive and which many workers in business world do not get. Again, it's no coincidence that these topics are selected into the conversation at a particular time. The apparently literal topics of CIA, FBI, God, policeman, parents, and children are "metaphorical" expressions of members' unconscious concerns about being tape recorded and about the authority figure in the conversation. Unconscious concerns are metaphorically piggy-backed onto the meanings of what otherwise appear to be literal or conscious meanings. It's a kind of talking in tandem, as it were.
To further illustrate: How does one explain, for instance, the ostensibly innocent statement of a person who has just bought a new car and who says he bought it because he was tired of driving old heaps--meaning an old wreck of a car--when his last name is Heapes? Sounds like the wildest of coincidence, does it? Or perhaps it's simply just an unconscious pun or double entendre? Or what does it mean when a retired gentleman is standing in front of a door with a heavy package in his arms and his son-in-law offers no help, and the retired gentleman just happens to look over at a young child who is pretending to help its mother carry a suitcase and says to the child, "That's very thoughtful of you to help out"? Is this a conscious snide remarkdirected at the son-in-law? Again, the answer is, "probably not." What the gentleman's remark reflects is his unconscious feelings that this son-in-law is not very thoughtful.
Much of our everyday conversation, then, expresses more than the standard or literal meaning attached to it. A further example: Years ago my wife and I bought a small rundown summer cottage in Maine where I grew up and knew quite a few people. For the first couple of summers, we were so busy trying to make the cottage livable that we had no time to socialize. At last the cottage was decent enough to invite some old friends for an evening of conversation. Having not seen our guests for some years, the conversation was rapid fire and free-associative. The initial small talk finally got around to discussing the cottage, so my wife and I proceeded to give our guests the "grand tour." In the stream of conversation, one of our guests started telling us about attending a party given a few weeks before. It seemed that the people who gave the party had just finished redecorating their home. Sandwiched in between talking about the party, it was said "they only had the party to show off their redecorating work." Unconsciously---and I believe it wasn't a conscious snide remark---the speaker's feelings about our motivation for inviting them were perhaps clear.
It's widely recognized, of course, that in everyday conversations certain euphemisms are often consciously employed to talk cryptically about some out-group person or group of people. For example, students may want to talk about professors but may not want to say explicitly what they are feeling openly, parents may want to talk about children when they are present without them knowing they are being talked about, and one ethnic group may want to talk about another. Such euphemisms like "you know how they are," may be used. This is called "coded speech," where often everyone knows what's "really" being discussed. But this is not what this book is about. I'm not just talking about euphemisms, here. I'm talking about deep encryption.
Such talk occurs with intimates and with relative strangers. If we listen carefully to their talk, responses to the finer nuances of their feelings often become clear. One evening my former wife and I were taking our evening walk, and I was rambling on, half incoherently and stumbling over my words, mispronouncing them and repeating syllables. I had no sooner finished one of these broken sentences as we were passing one of those fences that look like they are woven, when my wife said---out of a myriad of things she could have said--"There's a fence with a broken spoke." She was, in fact, unconsciously, commenting on the fact that I spoke(en) in a broken manner. Hence, "broken spoke." Here we see the word spoke being used literally as a noun, referring to a connecting piece of wood in a fence and unconsciously as an adjective referring to my speaking (the archaic of spoke is a past participle of speak). This is perhaps not a very important example, but it is poignant, as are the two following personal recollections. The unconscious mind of the child is much closer to consciousness than the unconscious of an adult, as the work of Jean Padget, 1 the renowned Swiss psychologist, has clearly demonstrated. Thus one might expect that unconscious meaning is closer to consciousness in children than in adults. One Halloween evening, I was playing with my daughter, Melyssa. I was playfully squeezing, hugging, and kissing her. While doing this, she was trying to open her Halloween bag of goodies. As she opened it and spied something within, she exclaimed, "Oh, it's one of those doodady things" (i.e., an unnamed or nameless gadget or trinket). Unconsciously, she was acknowledging that I was engaging in those things that Daddy's do, i.e., doodady things.
The second example occurred in a restaurant one day. My former wife and I were discussing and explaining pregnancy to our seven and a half year old daughter, Melyssa, who had some questions she wanted answered. She had always been very curious about things. We explained it as well as we could to a seven and a half year old. When we seemed to have reached an appropriate end to our explanation, there was a slight pause and my wife and I began talking about the events of the day. Then my daughter tugged on my sleeve, turned herself toward me, and asked, "What do you think of my shirt, Dad?" On her shirt was a decal---at stomach level---of a banana that was depicted as a little child. In unconscious or subliteral terms, my daughter's question was pregnant with the meaning her question was about.
As I briefly explained in the Introduction, the term subliteral indicates word meanings that are unconsciously attached to the conscious and accepted meanings of words, i.e., their literal meanings. I coined the term subliteral for my approach to unconscious meaning, language, and mind for two important reasons. First, the concept replaces traditional psychoanalytic terms like "latent," "unconscious," and "symbolic" meaning. It also replaces the linguistic term "metaphorical" insofar as the term "metaphor" describes symbolic meaning in our language. This name change is not just a semantic game, it's an important conceptual distinction. This is why.
Historically, the psychoanalytic approach has rendered the interpretation of unconscious meaning a mystery for all but highly trained practitioners. Although Sigmund Freud didn't invent the concept of the unconscious, Freud almost singlehandedly made us aware of the unconscious mind. Freud's genius was to take the various notions of the unconscious that had been around for some time and organize them, connect new data to them (such as it was), and then to provide a new theory or framework of the un.conscious mind. Seldom are discoveries made whole cloth, so to speak (see next chapter). In any event, Freud's classic notion of the unconscious is not adequate to explain the kind of linguistic phenomenon that I describe in this book. Even the many neo-Freudian reformulations of Freud's concept of the unconscious are not adequate. Freudian notions of the unconscious are much too vague, and psychoanalytic interpretations of an event often are all-meaningful. A subliteral framework demystifies the deep dark Freudian unconscious (see chapters 8 and 12).
To anyone who understands my method, it will be clear in a discussion about identical twins in a group that has two leaders which twin in the discussion unconsciously refers to which of the two leaders. Accordingly, it's no accident when a member of a conversation "Just happened" to talk about an old brand of cough drops called Smith Brothers, which as a trademark had a picture of two bearded men, one who had a black beard and one a reddish beard on its packaging, when one leader in the group had a black beard, the other a reddish beard. No accident, indeed. Semantically, then, the topic of "Smith Brothers" like the topic of identical "twins," was a parallel or tandem talk that unconsciously referred to the two leaders. Just as to the theoretically informed physicist, certain marks observed in a bubble chamber mean the presence of a particular subatomic particle, so too, someone who is theoretically informed about my method can recognize that certain kinds of conversational cues and language mark the presence of unconscious or hidden thoughts and feelings.
Every intonation made, indeed, even some of the physical aspects surrounding a conversation are unconsciously registered on some level. Normally, however, neither the person listening nor the person speaking is privy on a "conscious" level to the way these events are processed in the mind. For example, my fiancee's mother recently visited her podiatrist to have her feet worked on. As she lay on his couch having her feet massaged, they were talking to fill an otherwise silent activity. As they did so, the podia said that his clients often told him very personal things about themselves as they lay on his couch. My fiancee's mother replied that laying on a couch while having one's feet massaged is very relaxing and soothing. She said it Was like being in a psychologist's office having therapy, so people would naturally have a tendency to "bare their souls" to you. When she said this, she immediately became conscious of the double meaning: they bare their souls means they bare the soles of their feet to him. This may appear to be a simple pun, but it's not (see chapter 7 for further analysis of this example).
Think about it for a moment. We must ask, why these particular words were combined into this particular phrase? There were many other words and phrases that could have been used (i.e., selected) to express the meaning she was expressing: that his patients tell him lots of personal things about themselves. The similar sounds then used in her narrative are not simply puns. Their meaning is created by using similar sounds. Indeed, it's the sound of meaning. Puns have been given a bad rap. They can, in fact, be a window into the complex tandem workings of our minds (see chapter 7). There are levels of meaning, one literal in which each single concern creates a number of unconscious or subliteral variations that can be mapped (see below) and stacked upon each other in a mental matrix (see Figure 1).
These unconscious meanings may begin unconsciously and slip into conscious awareness, just as in slips of the tongue (Freudian slips), or what, in this chapter, I call slips of the mind. Just as with the concept of the unconscious, that slips of the tongue have meaning wasn't invented by Freud. They were long noted in literature, and he acknowledged this fact. Often, it seems, a person or a circumstance comes to nearly usurp the identity of a idea or the meaning of a word. Freud's genius was in recognizing their importance for a study of the mind. Despite this historical reality, the terms unconscious mind and slips of the tongue have become welded to Freud's name.
The phrase slips of the mind first occurred to me when I was pondering puns and slips of the tongue in relation to the unconscious mind. Then the analogous idea, slips of the mind, occurred to me. Indeed, what I have come to call subliteral language is a kind of slip of the mind. The question is, why did this concept occur to me at this particular time? The semantic association based on the similarity of pun-like sounds and slips of the tongue is reasonably clear. There were other conditions, however, that precipitated my association as I soon found out when I started thinking about it. At the time the phrase slips of the mind occurred to me, I was thumbing through the many little yellow 2 x 3 inch slips of paper that I always kept with me to write down ideas and insights which often popped into my head at the oddest times. Indeed, I was physically working with "slips" of the mind. Because I have a computer and personal digital memo pad now, I no long need to keep those slips of paper. Yet another crazy slip of the mind, as it were, occurred while I was a graduate student:
While taking graduate seminars, I frequently had these little yellow slips of paper spread in front of me. I was constantly shifting through them and springing forward to write something down before I forgot the idea. From time to time, I was aware of the other students and the professor looking at me rather strangely. One day, seemingly out of nowhere and apparently unconnected to his lecture, the professor began to talk about a crazy colleague he once knew. It seemed that whenever anyone went to his office his desk was strewn with pieces of paper that he wrote upon---even while people were talking to him. The professor's story was a subliteral reference to my little slips of paper. Indeed, the professor's story itself was a slip of his mind. Although it may seem that the professor's remark was conscious, from the context of the situation, it didn't seem to be.
These double meanings can't be explained as simply slips of the tongue because slips of the tongue are merely the physical delivery mechanism for expressing slips of the mind. Now it's perhaps becoming clear that talk has meaning other than the apparent and intended literal meaning of the speaker and by listening subliterally you can recognize the hidden feelings and opinions that people have but won't tell you. This can be very useful. But fair warning: Some of what you will hear may be things that "even your best friends won't tell you." Indeed, some things you many not want to hear (see Concluding Ethical Postscript at the end of this book).
What may not be clear at this point is how our mind uses language to create these slips of meaning. To explain these slips of the mind, we need to take a brief excursion into understanding the nature of language, not Freudian psychoanalysis, for it's here that we will find the operations that make subliteral meaning and create slips of the mind. |