Attempting to draw her readers in with anastrophic wordplay, Jo Smith’s opinion piece, ‘Chickens Range Free’ was written in response to the illegal release of a truckload of poultry on its way to the abattoir. It was published both on a website and in a Melbournian newspaper. As the politically loaded language of the gloss clearly indicates (i.e. ‘rights’, ‘oppressed’), it is Smith’s clear contention that, not only were the activist’s actions justified, but that animal welfare is intimately connected to that of our own. In order to induce her audience into sharing this belief, Smith appeals to numerous emotions in the reader, including righteousness, pity, guilt, fear, and self-interest. However, while emotion is the driving force Smith’s argument, she is careful also to present her own position as well-informed and level-headed, so as to appear authoritative on the matter at hand.

Smith’s principal use of rhetorical wording, involves morally and politically loaded terms such as ‘freedom’, ‘rights’, ‘liberation’, ‘oppressed’, ‘injustice’, ‘respected’, ‘reform’, and ‘inhumane’. With the employment of such terminology, Smith appeals to readers’ aspirations of righteousness, thereby challenging them to regard the incident under consideration as ‘noble’, ‘compassionate’, ‘understand[able]’, ‘important’, and, most of all, ‘justified’.

In order to ensure the reader feels that the situation warrants such morally and politically righteous attitudes, Smith is at pains to arouse pity for the chickens in her readers’ hearts. With words and phrases such as ‘dire plight’, ‘mistreat’, ‘abominably cruel’, ‘most abused’, ‘treated so badly’, and ‘trapped’, Smith encourages the reader to look pityingly upon the article’s image of three caged chickens. Indeed, to more fully bring this image to life in one’s imagination, Smith evaluatively provides the specifications as being ‘only’ of limited dimensions and ‘without proper ventilation’. Thus the reader is invited to sympathetically regard the two-dimensional, static picture as a choking, three-dimensional reality, where the chickens are ‘unable to move’, or to ‘breathe fresh, clean air’.

Of course, pity and righteousness by themselves may not necessarily entail that the reader feels that the particular actions of the activists’ were required. Smith, therefore, aspires to foster a sense of guilt in her audience. By the uniform employment of the inclusive pronoun ‘we’ (subtly moving from the ‘we’ of the AAR, to the more general ‘we’ of you and I), Smith implies that the italicised ‘someone’ of the opening paragraph, ought to have been ‘you’, the reader. Given that it almost certainly wasn’t the average reader who perpetrated the act in question, then the suggestion is that they ought to feel guilty for their inaction.

Similarly, Smith aims to evoke further guilt by suggesting that if the reader wasn’t so ‘self-serving’ and ‘human-centred’ (traits which most would feel to be undesirable), then ‘we could afford to pay more’ to keep our alliteratively-cute, ‘furred and feathered friends’ from further suffering. Thus does Smith prey on her readers’ wish not to regard themselves either  egoistic, uncaring or miserly.

Smith even goes so far as attempting to incite fear in order to serve her cause. With references to ‘[an] over populated … planet’, ‘drastically decreased … numbers of animal species’, and ‘widespread human rights abuses’, Smith designs to draw associations in the reader’s mind between these well-known, epic issues with the comparatively understated matter of animals rights. Especially with regard to the lattermost issue, in the penultimate paragraph, Smith hopes to convey the thought that rights abuses – both animal and human –
are something of a slippery-slope, and that the one type cannot hope to be successfully addressed without the other. Smith thereby seeks to engage the anthropocentric self-interest of those who might not normally concern themselves with issues of animal welfare.

Although the emotional states of righteousness, pity, guilt, fear, and self-interest are encouraged in the reader, Smith endeavours to present her own views level-headed and well informed. By disclosing the fact that, not only that she is a ‘member’ of Australians for Animal Rights, but also their publicity officer, Smith’s own alliteratively-punchy opinions (‘…but I think the activists risked life and limb’) are given extra weight insofar as she has been accorded the responsibility of speaking for an entire organization (though the reader remains uniformed as to exactly how many are so represented). This position of authority therefore works in Smith’s favour as an argumentum ad populum.

In contrast, critics of the activist’s actions are portrayed as at least hysterical (eg. ‘falling over themselves’ and ‘whip[ping] up his listeners into a frenzy’), if not somewhat barbarous (eg. ‘sneering’). With a handful of denigratory quotations from a talk-back presenter’s show intended to make his views appear flippant and uncouth, it is implied that, in comparison, Smith’s own position is level-headed and even respectful of both sides of the debate. This is intended to sway the reader insofar as many will wish to side with the more rational and civilized position; an alignment Smith further augments by later quoting a rhetorical question made by the famous philosopher, Jeremy Bentham.

In conclusion, Smith’s article, ‘Chickens Run Free’ works to persuade readers that recent activism was justified insofar as it brings to light the ‘dire plight’ occasioned by our way of life for both animals and humans. She ventures to accomplish this with an authoritative presentation of a seemingly considered and informed argument, that aims to touch on the readers’ wish to be guiltless, fearless, unselfish, righteous and compassionate.

The Analytical: expository and/or critical

Typically divided in three main sections (Introduction, Body, and Conclusion), analytical essays strive to achieve rational, unbiased and systematic treatments of their subject. In order to meet such aims, the personal presence of the author is usually left absent from the presentation – although in recent years, an establishment of ethos in the Introductory section has become more commonplace. Technical terminology is also employed to such ends. However, intentional obfuscation through the unnecessary proliferation of highfalutin language and argumentation is universally frowned upon. The writing style should be bold, clear, and precise. The author must consider all respectable sides of the matter under consideration, and so the use of counterfactuals and hypotheticals can be of use in meeting this criterion without having to directly engage with an opponent’s actual claims. Crucially, analytical writing must appear transparent and systematic. Therefore, enthymematic arguments should be avoided where syllogistic statements can be made. Furthermore, the utilisation of numbers, categories and subheadings can also be highly affective. Finally, the old saying, “Tell ‘em what you’re going to tell ‘em; tell ‘em; then tell ‘em what you’ve told ‘em” is seen to be illustrative of the great importance that clarity and transparency play in this form of writing.

The Deliberative

The success of persuasive, deliberative writing is heavily dependent upon a clear understanding and appreciation of one’s audience, their views, inclinations, and cultural characteristics. A fine balance must be found between merely stating that which is already accepted and that which is (as yet) beyond acceptance. The deliberative is essentially concerned with the probable or likely, as that which is actual is better left to either the analytic or instructive written forms. Hence, it is prudent that a number of possible future scenarios be invoked, where the desired conclusion of the deliberative process is clearly the best, either ideally or pragmatically. Deliberative writing lends itself well to the use of rhetorical devices (such as rhetorical questions), as often an emotion appeal to one’ audience will be necessary to encourage them out of their lazy, if not dogmatic, slumber in the status quo.
The Dialogical

At the outset, true dialogue has no fixed destination in mind. Obviously, this cannot be the case with regard to the written form of the phenomenon, although the suggestion of spontaneity will certainly lend itself to a more compelling piece. The audience should initially be informed of the focus of the discussion only in general terms (the desired conclusion may, however, be specified by the heading of the work). The author should strive to not allow any one of the interlocutors to dominate the exchange, and yet, at the same time, each character should clearly represent different aspects of the discussion, without becoming overly stereotyped. Avoiding artificiality, the rough development of the dialogue should be summarised at the conclusion of the piece.

The Epidictic

One of the oldest rhetorical forms, the epidictic seeks to extol an individual person, a collective group or an abstracted ideal; typically as part of a formal celebratory ceremony. Here a sense of grandeur and the epic will often be evoked by the use of metaphors, symbolism, and favourable comparisons to common history (sometimes even of the mythical or literary variety). Indeed, conveying a sense of belonging to a long, venerable lineage that is directed to a glorious future is essential in creating the inspiring and expansive emotions required for this mode of writing. As such, the author will be required to be rather selective in the presentation of the characteristics and anecdotes utilised to convey the desired portrayal. Here there is little need for either introduction or conclusion. Rather the piece should aspire to be as climatic as possible. In this pursuit, the inclusion of a number of accumulative faux-climaxes is advisable, although one must be vigilant in ensuring that the audience’s enthusiasm is not thereby exhausted before the ultimate culmination is reached.

The Forensic

Forensic modes of writing seek to establish, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the sequence or actuality of events that have occurred in the past. Obviously, it is advisable that one’s audience are initially counselled as to the significance of determining such events. However, once embarked upon the demonstration proper, the appearance of systematicity is vital. That said, although a seeming adherence to the dictates of chronology and temporality are essential, this will often find itself needing to be counterbalanced with a need for creating a sense of telos (i.e. purpose, or narrative meaning) in the sequence of events. Although teleology remains a branch of speculative metaphysics, one’s typical audience will be just as compelled by the appearance of purpose in a sequence of events, as they are by any scientific claims to factuality. Finding the proper balance between the two is the crucial challenge of forensic writing.

The Instructional

Similar to the forensic, systematicity is vital to all instructional writing. Again, the reader must initially be introduced to the significance of the project undertaken. However, unlike the forensic, faithful adherence to the temporal facticity of the matter must not be subverted by other considerations of persuasive psychology. And yet there remain other considerations to be taken into account. The language used must be frank, plain and precise. It is advisable that the instruction be divided into manageable categories that enable the audience to perceive how each part ‘fits’ into the overall, final product or capacity. In this endeavour, the author must remain conscious that their audience will presumably be approaching the subject from a position of ignorance. Moreover, quite often the nature of the task under instruction will be paideic (i.e. experiential), where the instruction itself is only didatic (i.e. abstract, intellectual). For this reason, illustrations, diagrams, figures, and even decorative pictures can complement instructional writing.

The Imaginative

Authenticity is crucial to this genre of writing. All too often, authors will assume that because the play of imagination is in focus, the reader’s capacity for disbelief will concomitantly be suspended. This is not the case, and efforts to integrate factual elements into a piece can be very effective in assuaging the readers’ ontological puritancies.
The employment of framing techniques (where one ‘world’ is portrayed as existing within another) are also advisable as facilitating the psychological transportation of the reader ‘into’ the story. The author should be acutely mindful of the role of interrelated symbolism in creating a viable atmosphere for the creation of imaginative environments.

The Journalistic: memoir and article

Journalism, as the name suggests, was born from the phenomenon of writers keeping personal journals of their experiences. The memoir form of this genre (given that it is created artificially) requires the unfolding of events, although often forecasted either explicitly or implicitly. Effort should be made to capture the historical ambience and significance of the story. Similarly, with respect to the article form, a sense of perspective remains significant, although, as it is written as a self-contained whole, in response to events or other articles, the author should be wary of overly bombastic language in achieving this effect.

The Reflective

When writing a personal reflection, one should be mindful not to be self-indulgent. While an audience will have a certain, natural degree of curiosity in learning about the lives of others, the author should try to consider what materials are of a universal nature, or at least speak to general concern or interest. That said, it is equally important to recognise the individuality of one’s own experiences, so as not to set oneself up as appearing either self-important or arrogant. Reflective writing does not have the same character as a real-life diary, and instead needs to be carefully sculptured and refined as much as any other written form. Be sure to introduce relationships with other characters, and also to provide full-bodied descriptions of one’s settings. One of the strong points of this genre is that it readily enables one to depict the development of one’s character, for better or worse.

Language Analysis: Response to ‘Killer Cars’

Melanie Masters’ article, ‘Killer Cars – an Assault on Reason’, capitalises on recent findings which indicate that the behaviour of people who drive four-wheel drive vehicles (4WDs) as well as other automobiles, changes according to which car they are in. Bringing a number of related issues to play on these findings, Ms Masters attempts to persuade the reader that 4WDs are an unnecessary danger on the roads. The three principle rhetorical techniques employed to this end – as shall be explored in the following – are: (1) an informed, authoritative understanding of the issue; (2) a down-to-earth, accessible appeal to the reasonableness and humanity of the reader; and (3) the use of exaggerated imagery and metaphor to play on the audience’s sense of fear.

The article, ‘Killer Cars’, although certainly impassioned and committed to a particular position, nonetheless seeks to present itself as well-informed and authoritative. The principal strategy utilised in achieving this effect is found in the numerous references to well-established institutions such as The Queensland University of Technology’s Centre for Accident Research and Road Safety, The Monash University Accident Research Centre, The Australia Institute, and the Pedestrian Council of NSW. By recourse to apparently objective data (statistics, research findings, etc.), the reader is encouraged to regard Ms Masters’ own, further interpretations and opinions as similarly educated and authoritative. However, the cynical reader may feel that the inclusion of certain statistics (for instance, that half of the children killed in driveway deaths were caused by 4WDs) relies too heavily on assumed background knowledge (i.e. the relative proportions of 4WDs backing down family driveways). Similarly, while Ms Masters invokes the findings of a study that indicate 4WD drivers are less likely to be charitable or community-minded, her inference that they would be therefore be less concerned about any deaths or injuries they may actually cause (like the driver pictured in the referred-to-cartoon) is essentially enthymemic, and so, for some readers, may detract from the force of her argument. That said, the strategy of more-than-once referring to the accompanying cartoon is doubtlessly a conscious move by Ms Masters to make her reliance on otherwise potentially alienating data, more accessible and persuasive to the average reader.

The article’s commendable efforts at accessibility are further augmented by Ms Masters’ subtle insistence on being down-to-earth and reasonable. With phrases such as ‘let’s be realistic’, ‘the fact is’, ‘it will come as no surprise’, Ms Masters not only presents herself as level-headed, but, moreover, invites the reader to emulate her own reasonableness by similarly adopting her views regarding 4WDs as their own. Indeed, by the time it is claimed that 4WD drivers are twice as likely to say, ‘I was born to shop’, apparently nothing more needs to be said; the article has already sufficiently appealed to the reader’s wish to be rational (eg. ‘the only reasonable solution’) that the consumerist-mantra inevitably appears vacuous, selfish and utterly irrational. This, contrasted with the real-face-of-tragedy found in the specific story of five-year-old, ‘little’ Bethany Holder, enables Ms Masters to subsequently generalise to such an extent that she can challenge the ‘other’ with the rhetorically loaded question, ‘How many more Bethany Holders do we need…?’

The final persuasive technique employed throughout the article, then, is a play on the fears of the audience. With a plethora of metaphorical language-use (eg. ‘aggression’, ‘a menace’, ‘lethal weapons’, ‘ploughing into’, ‘struck by’, ‘behemoths’, “death machines”, ‘monsters’ , ‘hulking’, etc.), the clearly exaggerated imagery used by the cartoon is perpetuated in the reader’s mind as they subsequently encounter the seemingly objective and unbiased empirical data. Furthermore, by consistently exploiting inclusive/exclusive language of ‘us’ (‘what about the rest of us?’) and ‘them’ (‘they might be right’, ‘watch out for them’), Ms Masters seeks to align the reader with the crushed, helpless victims, threatened by equally aggressive drivers of ‘the most aggressive vehicle type[s]’.

Part A – Analysis of Language Use

Introduction
While the overt intention of The Australian Government’s ‘Keep Australia Safe’ advertisement is both to inform people of the National Security Hotline and to encourage those who have any potentially helpful information to report it, it is also fair to assume that it serves the implicit purpose of suggesting that the current government is making earnest efforts – in this case via the establishment of such a service – to protect Australian citizens from the increasingly-felt threat of terrorism. Indeed, a more cynical interpretation might even go so far as to suggest that the ad’ itself is almost conspiratorially aimed at ensuring the supposed threat remains ‘increasingly-felt’ principally for the sake of political gain.
The validity of at least the former two (if not the latter) interpretations are readily demonstrated via the following analysis of language and imagery used therein:

Main Text
The first thing one (perhaps unconsciously) notices when confronted with the article is the large slab of black … out of which arises the image of geographical Australia – as if from the dark night – composed and consisting entirely of supposedly real-life quotes where conscientious citizens (eg. “I felt like I had to let you know”) demonstrate their competence in respect to likely terrorist activities (eg. “they have a lot of pool supplies…”). Here the geography of Australia is used to metaphorically represent our nation – its citizens and culture – as being somewhat ethereal or delicate (note the absence of fixed boarders in the image) and yet compositionally ensured by the good deeds of patriotic informers. Indeed, the proper noun, ‘Australia’, is likewise used throughout as patriotically synonymous with the nation state, and not just its geography.

The main text, ‘KEEP AUSTRALIA SAFE’, is reminiscent of the old and comparatively innocuous slogan, ‘Keep Australia Tidy’, where the verb serves a double function of both a command and a prompt to appreciate what we already have (i.e. a tidy and, as yet, terror free nation). As a sentence fragment, the slogan also remains somewhat ambiguous as to whether it’s essentially a directive, or, in conjunction with the attendant phrase “KEEP THE INFORMATION FLOWING”, it might not also operate more as an explanation (i.e. ‘The flow of information is what keeps Australia safe’). Moreover, the descriptive imagery of ‘flowing information’ provides further meaning to the image below: For those who have seen the cult film, The Matrix, the picture here will surely remind one the iconic imagery of reality as being composed entirely of a trickling flow of bits of green computer-data across an otherwise blank screen of nothingness.  Even for those who have not (yet) seen the film, by now such pictorial metaphors effectively belong to the collective conscious.

The third element of the main text, which undoubtedly has been felt all along in the corner of the reader’s eye, is the heavily emboldened telephone number of the national security hotline, being both over and under-struck with thick boarders containing further text. If the reader had thought that the main text might be more explanatory than directive, such a confident and authoritative ‘stamping’ of the hotline’s number now leaves little room for confusion (as if the ad’ itself should later serve as an ad hoc emergency phone directory).

The declaration that ‘Trained operators take every call seriously’, at once reassures the prospective informer that they will know will know what is best, but also subtly warns against those cynical or mischievous sorts who might otherwise be tempted to call the government’s ‘bluff’. Indeed, it is little wonder then that the assurance that ‘You can remain anonymous’ follows rather than precedes it. Also, it thereby seeks to placate those who might be cautious regarding the typically Australian disapproval of the ‘dobber’.

In summary, the short, capitalised and emboldened main text demands the reader’s attention, getting the core of the message across quickly, yet without giving too much away. (For instance, there has so far been no mention of the ‘T’ word, encouraging the reader to read on.)

Subsidiary Text
At first glance, the second instance of sentence-fragmentary sloganising is apparently only of an explanatory nature. And yet, tied to the reiterative (if not outright repetitive) ‘fine print’, we see that, again, it is shrewdly directive that the reader should regard even the slightest suspicion as serious (if not outright paranoid, as the cynical reader might wish to conjecture).

Furthermore,  the invocation of chronology (i.e. ‘today’ and ‘tomorrow’) makes prominent in the reader’s mind that the real threat of terrorist acts is always potentially immanent, and that now is the appropriate time for calling the hotline. Indeed, the reader’s curiosity that this advertisement is indeed a response to the supposedly heightened threat of suicide-bomber-type terrorism (and not, say, of computer hacking) is almost masochistically rewarded only now that the reader has been drawn all the way into engaging with the secondary text.

Moreover, in a polite and colloquial manner (eg. ‘So if…’ and ‘please’), the passage implies that, contrary to what was said above, not competence, but rather fearful intuition (i.e. “something that just doesn’t feel right”) should be one’s guide in determining the validity of one’s suspicions (as opposed to paranoias).

Finally, in a fine and delicate crest, the Government’s official seal is humbly placed against a white and open background in the bottom-corner position giving it the appearance of light, purity and innocence, whilst at the same time branding the ad’ with the mark of authority.

Summary
While it is certainly the intention of the government’s ‘Keep Australia Safe’ advertisement to announce the establishment of a National Security Hotline, from what we have seen in the above analysis, there is good reason to suspect that, for whatever reason, it is also the government’s desire to appear as effective in the so-called fight against (in this case) homeland-terrorism as possible. And although it may go too far, from the evidence seen, to cynically suppose that the government is purposefully hyping-up the threat of terrorism for their own political gains, there should be little doubt that the emotion of fear is of principal rhetorical force in ensuring this ad’ is as effective as possible.

One may quite reasonably suppose that to read homosexual undertones into any and all works composed by authors of said sexuality would be to display a degree of prejudice quite unfounded by either reason or empirical evidence. No matter whether the discrimination be favourable or derogatory, such gross generalisations would be akin, say, to presuming that the football team one barracks for must inevitably determine one’s taste in food … as if eating meat pies at a game were only suited to Collingwood supporters.

That being said, in the case of Oscar Wilde’s brilliant play, The Importance of Being Earnest, there can be little doubt that the equally well-known and comical notion of ‘Bunburying’ nonetheless carries with it – quite consciously and purposefully, I shall argue – deep homosexual connotations.

Certainly, at the most literal level, the action and dialogue of the play give little to no reason to suppose that the characters of either Mr. Algernon Moncrieff or Mr. John Worthing are themselves homosexual. The rakish stratagem both men have independently devised in order to avoid any familial obligations, is, prima facie, as boyish as it is asexual. For example, the ‘pleasure’ that draws Jack to the city is seen to be found just as much in the allure of the higher quality champagne of his bachelor friends as it is in the ‘business’ (as Algy calls it) of marriage.

Furthermore, the affection both display towards their respective beloveds – Ms. Cecily Cardew and Ms. Gwendoline Fairfax – is portrayed as sincere and unconfused. Indeed, their devotion is portrayed as the balm to the virulent superficiality of a society lived blindly according to outdated etiquette and mores, and not at all by good sense or authentic feeling. As Algernon, near the close of the final curtain, defiantly announces to his consistently conservative aunt Bracknell: “Cecily is the sweetest, dearest, prettiest girl in the whole world. And I don’t care twopence about social possibilities.” And yet, while love – ostensively only of the heterosexual variety – wins out in the end and cuts through many of the much-abused social constructs defining Victorian England, the significance of the opening vehicle of humour, ‘Bunburying’ (and not ‘Earnesting’, mind you), has been all but forgotten in the warming glow of the play’s happy resolution.

If we are to give Oscar Wilde the credence that his reputation, wit, and genius all undoubtedly deserve, then the title of the play ought not to be regarded as merely a cheap, though admittedly affective, pun. Rather, the more profound significance and moral of Wilde’s comedy of manners is seen as shared with that of William Shakespeare’s eternal, Romeo & Juliet.  “That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet”, muses Romeo of Montague’s elevated Muse. Whereas Jack-of-‘Earnest’-reputation’s sweetheart contrastingly piques the audience’s humour with her own air-headed avowal: “We live, as I hope you know, in an age of ideals … and my ideal has always been to love someone of the name of Earnest.”

So what has all this to do with Bunburying? Well, the fact is that Oscar Wilde was a renowned homosexual. He himself knew it; his lover, Lord Alfred Douglas (or ‘Boise’, as Wilde fondly referred to him) knew it; Boise’s father knew it (and successfully prosecuted Wilde for it); Wilde’s wife and children presumably came to realise it; Wilde’s audience certainly knew it; and we – over one hundred years after the first performance of Earnest – are still well aware it.

Oscar Wilde – famous for ostentatiously walking down the Strand with a single lily in his hand – would have been only too conscious of his audience’s so-called prejudice for hoping to detect any hint of scandal in his work. (One must here be mindful that the first performance of The Importance of Being Earnest in 1895 was, in fact, the tipping point for the libel cases that eventually led to Wilde’s incarceration for ‘gross indecency’.) The very term ‘Bunburying’ appears to be constituted of rather evocative etymological roots: ‘Bun’ (a colloquialism for buttock) and ‘Bury’ (meaning to conceal and/or submerge). And it is not only the notion of having a fictitious friend that is found comical, it is also, like the later word-play surrounding ‘muffins’, the very sound and implied meaning of the term ‘Bunburying’ that we find amusing – if only because we feel that we are insiders to the fact that the taboo is being so wittily flaunted.

“If Gwendolen accepts me, I am going to kill my brother,” declares Jack to a sceptical Algernon. Here the audience cannot help but wonder whether Wilde himself would have made similar resolutions to himself when determining to marry the mother of his two children, Miss Constance Lloyd. Indeed, it can hardly be thought to escape the curiosity of all but the most dull audience members to wonder whether the practice of Bunburying first found its conception in Wildes’ own domestic life. Such wonder is only further augmented when Algernon responds to Jack’s pledge: “A man who marries without knowing Bunbury has a very tedious time of it.”

Furthermore, the reputation (stereotypical or not) of gay men to engage in sexual acts in the most varied of locations (public toilets, especially) can, perhaps, be seen to be invoked when Algernon asserts, “One has a right to Bunbury anywhere one chooses. Every serious Bunburyist knows that.” Of course, much of the humour in these lines arises from taking such a trivial notion so seriously (as Wilde’s own epitaph to the play reads, ‘A trivial comedy for serious people’). However, like the title of the play itself, the very brilliance of Wilde is his ability to make that, which on the surface may seem merely flippant, nonetheless speak to the very deepest of social concerns.

In conclusion, The Importance of Being Earnest is not merely ‘a trivial comedy’, any more than it is a plain and naïve commendation to live authentically. Wilde’s own genius and sexuality (for both of which he paid dearly) ensures that this play offers the most cutting satirical commentary possible for its time, asking the audience (sometimes indirectly; sometimes directly) to question all their expectations of both the theatre and society at large. And ‘Bunburying’ – one of the principle vehicles of the play – is genius as much for its suggestive sexual ambiguity as it is for its cleverness.

Thank you for you attention.
Mr. Ross Barham, 03.2008

With regard to the Truth, two starkly contrasting philosophical positions spring to mind: on the one hand you have the idealists, and, on the other, the pragmatists.

The champion of idealism, Immanuel Kant, claimed that one should do nothing that reason determines would detrimental if everyone were to do it also. So, of lying: Kant argued that while the odd misrepresentation here and there may not seem to do much harm, if everyone were to lie all the time, then communication would be rendered impossible and all language meaningless. Hence, lying is proved immoral.

Unfortunately, while Kant’s categorical imperative (as it is known) is idealistically sound, in the so-called ‘real world’ it rapidly gives rise to many counterintuitive prescriptions; for instance, that one should not lie to the Gestapo if they come looking for your loved ones who are hidden away in your attic.

While there have been innumerable attempts to overcome the many paradoxes of idealism, there are some who have simply thrown up their hands and declared that the world is too complex and dangerous for the truth to ever exist in any even near pristine form. As the character of Algernon Moncrief professes in Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, ‘The truth is rarely pure and simple.’

Such people are commonly known as pragmatists.

The classic example of a pragmatist, is surely that of Homer’s Odysseus [pun intended]. In the epic Ancient Greek poem, The Odyssey, the main protagonist intimates that women should not be made privy to the truth of either a man’s mind or heart. Or, again, as Oscar Wilde’s character, Jack Worthing, would have it, ‘the truth isn’t quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl.’

Unsurprisingly, the play entitled The Importance of Being Earnest is utterly preoccupied with the exploring the nature of the truth. Indeed, much of the work’s humour arises from Wilde’s capacious capacity for manipulating the many common ‘truths’ that society so readily, and yet quite unconsciously, consents to. Take for example, the declaration: ‘I hear her hair has turned quite gold from grief.’ The joke here is to make sound clichéd the often disturbing fact that the grief of widowhood may just as equally lead to a woman donning the sexual allure of golden hair, as it is to the almost mythical occurrence of it (super)naturally turning a dull, elderly, and asexual grey. Oscar Wilde satirises society’s tendency to prejudice certain (moral) truths over other equally factual, though perhaps less fortunate ones.

That society is geared, as I have said, to a blinkered view of the truth, is, as Wilde’s play suggests, a deliberate and purposeful process. Hence, at numerous points, the topic of education arises in the dialogue of the play:

When Gwendolyn explains to Cecily, before donning her spectacles, ‘Mamma, whose views on education are remarkably strict, has brought me up to be extremely short-sighted’, the joke is found in the alternate meaning of ‘short-sightedness’ as referring to Gwendolyn’s restricted cultural and intellectual outlook, and not just her poor eye-sight. And, if we were in any doubt as to whether or not the ambiguity was indeed intended by Wilde, we need only recall Lady Bracknell’s delight in coercing Jack into stating that he knows nothing, earlier, in the First Act. Not, mind you, in the philosophically profound sense that led the Oracle of Dephi to proclaim Socrates as the wisest of all men by virtue of his humble awareness of just how little he actually knew. Rather, Lady Bracknell’s pedagogy can be summed up in the following statement: ‘I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance.’

‘Natural ignorance’, in the high society of the Bracknell’s, Moncreiff’s and Worthington’s apparently does not refer only to the varied limitations of individual cognitive capacities. Rather, it seems that Victorian England’s satirised concept of Nature extends far into the sphere of social hierarchies as well. When Lady Bracknell speaks of the impotency of the English schooling system, she does so approvingly, for, as she states, ‘if it did [educate], it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.’ Such a propagandist view of ‘the truth’ in education recurs again and again throughout the play. For instance, Miss Prism stipulates that Cecily omit the ‘sensational’ ‘melodrama’ of the Rupee’s fall, presumably owing to the socialist, anti-aristocratic associations it bore; and again, at numerous points, with regard to the supposed respectability of the German language, as opposed to the scandalous nature of the revolutionary French.

Freethinking, in the world Wilde parodies, is portrayed as universally frowned upon. When Gwendolyn attempts to desist Jack from the matter of his name, she dismisses such discussions as metaphysical speculation, ‘and like most metaphysical speculation,’ she explains, ‘[it] has very little reference at all to the facts of life, as we know them.’ Similarly, when Cecily takes an interest in the abandoned literary career of Miss Prism, she is chided to return rather to her heavily censored readings, with a curt, ‘To your work child, these speculations are profitless.’

Rather than any freethinking, autonomous thought, then, Wilde depicts a society so heavily committed to its so-called ‘ideals’, that love is utterly disregarded as a criterion for marriage, and, instead, a mere name – Moncrieff, Bracknell, but not Worthington –  is all that matters. But so as to avoid labouring the already well-established pros and cons of the names ‘Ernest’ and ‘Parcel’ respectively, alternatively, let us briefly reflect on the comedy brought about taking things too literally:

-    When Lady Bracknell arrives at Jack Worthing’s estate to find two couples newly-engaged, she declares, affirming the consequent, that ‘the number of engagements … seems to [her] considerably above the proper average that statistics have laid down for our guidance.’
-    Algernon attempts to parry Jack’s suggestion that he eats too often, by invoking the custom of so-called ‘good society’ to take a light refreshment at 5 o’clock, as if the time should dictate one’s appetites.
o    This joke regarding Algernon’s gluttony is continued later in the play when he insists on eating muffins, although everything appears to be crumbling down around him. As he defends himself to Jack at this point, ‘When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me. … At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am unhappy. Besides I am particularly fond of muffins.
-    When Cecily and Gwendolyn mistakenly conclude that they are engaged to the same ‘Ernest’, Gwendolyn proclaims that ‘the announcement [of her engagement] will appear in The Morning Post on Saturday at the latest’; thus, in her mind, demonstrating that, if it is printed, it must be true, irrespective of whether her fiancé actually intends to marry, let alone love, her over Cecily.
-    And finally, when Algernon foolishly borrows Jack’s verb to describe Bunbury’s demise, Lady Bracknell’s respond is as equally inane. She says, “I am glad … that he … acted under proper medical advice.”

All in all, the world depicted by Wilde, is a shallow, arbitrary, façade of appearances. Although it is true that much of the drama leads many of the characters to arriving at a more authentic sense of themselves and their place in life, in a play called, The Importance of Being Earnest, posturing, pomposity and pretentiousness are principally portrayed, albeit parodically as being, in Algernon Moncreiff’s own words, ‘as true as civilised society should be.’

Thank you.