10.4 Levels of Meaning

Another generalization we can make about language is that it is multi-layered. Imagine this: you are working a job that allows you a lunch break from 12:00 to 12:30 pm. One day you meet up with a friend during your break, and you don’t pay careful enough attention to the time. By the time you return to the workplace, your boss is glaring and pointing at the clock, saying “It’s one o’clock!” You have to decide how to respond:

• “Huh, look at that. Yes, you’re right, it is 1:00. Thanks for the information.”
• “I’m SO sorry — our lunch order was delayed and I completely lost track of time. It will never happen again!”
• “Yeah, but you got back from your lunch break at 2:00 yesterday! It’s totally unfair for you to yell at me for that when you’re even worse.”

The consequences might be drastically different in each case, but they illustrate something about the nature of language: that even a three-word sentence can contain layers of meaning: the denotative level, the connotative level, and the relational level.^[1]

The denotative level of meaning is the literal level: what you would discern if you just examined the vocabulary and syntax. Grammatically speaking, “It’s one o’clock” is a declarative sentence informing the listener of the time. Its meaning is unambiguous and hard to misinterpret. Response #1 would be an example of only taking the sentence at face value, and responding on the same level. If you do that, however, you risk getting fired, because you’re missing what’s going on under the surface.

The connotative level refers to the implied meaning, and it connects to factors such as the context in which a statement was spoken, the tone of voice, and what you identify as the statement’s purpose. Most employees would be smart enough to realize that “It’s one o’clock” is another way of saying “You’re in trouble,” and would respond with a version of response #2. But notice that the sentence “It’s one o’clock” doesn’t actually mention anything about being in trouble, or the rules, so that meaning is not represented on the denotative level. If a person were going for a walk with a friend and asked them what time it was, and the other person calmly replied “It’s one o’clock,” it would be very strange to respond “I’m so sorry — it will never happen again!”

The relational level is about the relationship between the participants in the conversation. All utterances between people, regardless of context, can be seen as saying something about what type of relationship the people have with each other. Even mundane statements establish, reinforce, or question the rules and rights of the speakers relative to each other. An employee would only use response #3 if they did not perceive there to be a power relationship between boss and employee (or, for some reason, if the employee has more power than the boss). When someone says “How dare you talk to me that way!,” they are commenting on a breach in the implied relationship: “you are violating your rights.”

In this model, all statements of any kind contain all three levels. That doesn’t mean that the participants are paying equal attention to all three levels, or agreeing on “where the action is”: one person can be focused on the denotative level of what they’re talking about, and the other can be reacting to the connotations or wanting to re-examine the relationship rules. For example, if a father talking to his teenage daughter says “That boy I saw you with yesterday seems nice,” the daughter can focus on the denotative level and they can discuss what kind of boy he is. If the daughter focuses on the connotative level, she may respond to the implication that her father is wondering if there’s a spark between them, and respond by clarifying “Oh, I’m not interested in him; we were only talking.” If the daughter says “Dad! I’m seventeen years old. Butt out of my relationships!,” she is responding to the relational level, and seeing this as an opportunity to discuss the privacy rights or autonomy of a 17-year-old. (Parents usually know how old their children are, so when a child cites their age, it’s a clue that they want to renegotiate the parent-child relationship.)

This explains why so many arguments can be frustrating and unproductive: because one participant can be focused on a different level than the other, or because they keep shifting back and forth between levels without resolving anything. An example appears in the 2017 film Lady Bird, in a scene where a mother takes her daughter dress shopping in anticipation of a high school dance.

Daughter (coming out of the dressing room with a big smile on her face): I love it!

Mother (scowling):Is it too pink?

Daughter looks defeated, and goes back into the dressing room

Mother:What?

Daughter: Why can’t you say I look nice?

Mother:I thought you didn’t even care what I think.

Daughter: I still want you to think I look good.

Mother:Okay, I’m sorry. I was telling you the truth. You want me to lie?

Notice the shifting between levels: first they are talking about a dress, then about their own communication patterns (“Why can’t you say I look nice?”), then about their relationship. When the daughter asks why her mother can’t say nice things, the mother doesn’t respond by talking about whether she is supportive or not, but frames it in terms of honesty vs. lying. They have issues to work out!

Later in the same scene, the daughter wants to explicitly discuss their relationship:

Daughter:I wish that you liked me.

Mother:Of course I love you.

Daughter:But do you like me?

(7–second pause)

Mother: I want you to be the very best version of yourself that you can be.

What are the connotations of “like” vs. “love”? Or of that pause? (Go ahead and time it; if you ask someone if they like you, and it takes them seven seconds to reply, it feels like forever). The daughter would be justified in interpreting “I want you to be the very best version of yourself that you can be” as “No, I don’t like you.”

The next time you are in a difficult conversation, or frustrated that a discussion is going nowhere, a focus on these three levels may help you understand what is going on.

The names you give to things can also have big consequences, and this also relates to levels of meaning. For example, if after college you decide you would like to open up a drinking establishment and name it after yourself, it’s worth thinking carefully about the connotations of different names. Think about the images that come up with each, what associations they connote, and what kind of customers are likely to show up:

• James’s Tavern: Is this the kind of place you would take your parents to? What kind of beverages are likely to be on the menu? Do they have live music, and if so, what kind?
• Jimmy’s Pub: Will they serve green beer on St. Patrick’s Day? Is it okay to strike up conversations with other patrons, or does everyone stick to themselves?
• The James Lounge: How noisy is it? What kind of drinks do they serve? Do you have to dress up nicely? Could your punk band get a gig there?
• Jimmy’s Saloon: How many kinds of whiskey do they serve?
• Jimmy’s Dive: do they have bouncers? Are the floors sticky?

On a denotative level, the names all say the same thing. The connotations, however, can be quite different. If you call it Jimmy’s Saloon but don’t serve any whiskey (only appletinis) and the live music is a harpist, the business may never get off the ground.

In legal situations, careful thought about connotations is worth the time. On the denotative level, for instance, the word “alleged” means “claimed but not proven,” and it’s the proper term to use until the jury has reached a verdict. But on the connotative level, “alleged” sounds to many people like “guilty but you’re not allowed to say that yet.” For that reason, if you are a criminal defense attorney, never refer to your client as an “alleged kidnapper”; to many jurors, that says “I think my client is guilty.” On the civil side, a plaintiff attorney who represents someone who was injured in a collision and is suing the other driver should be careful how they refer to that incident. Calling it a car accident may be the most common approach, but don’t forget that the word “accident” implies that it’s no one’s fault, so what is there to sue about? Use the word “crash” instead.

Connotations can be so powerful, and so hard to disassociate from a phrase, that sometimes you just have to abandon a phrase and come up with a new one. For this reason, the names for some things change fairly regularly, and people may be confused or anxious about getting things wrong. In the old days, for example, countries that were not as rich and technologically advanced as others were called “backward,” which is inherently insulting, so they became “third world” countries (but few could explain what the first and second worlds were), and then “undeveloped” countries, and then “developing” countries. A woman who was not employed outside the home used to be a “housewife,” which turned into “homemaker” or “stay-at-home mom,” and the related school courses shifted from “home ec” (short for “economics”) to “domestic science” to “FACS: family and consumer sciences.” Someone who couldn’t walk might be called a “crippled” or “lame,” which also sound like insults, so they were replaced with “handicapped” and “disabled,” and then “differently abled,” but then you run across articles called “Why You Shouldn’t Use ‘Differently-Abled’ Anymore” (Cooks-Campbell, 2021). It’s good to strive to find the best terminology, but also be forgiving of people who aren’t sure if “midget” or “deaf” or “people of color” are the right words to use.