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Significance in Language

This book offers a unique perspective on meaning in language, broadening

the scope of existing understanding of meaning by introducing a
comprehensive and cohesive account of meaning that draws on a wide range
of linguistic approaches.
The volume seeks to build up a complete picture of what meaning is,
different types of meaning, and different ways of structuring the same
meaning across myriad forms and varieties of language across such domains,
such as everyday speech, advertising, humour, and academic writing.
Supported by data from psycholinguistic and neurolinguistic research, the
book combines different approaches from scholarship in semantics, including
formalist, structuralist, cognitive, functionalist, and semiotics to demonstrate
the ways in which meaning is expressed in words but also in word order and
intonation. The book argues for a revised conceptualisation of meaning
toward presenting a new perspective on semantics and its wider study in
language and linguistic research.
This book will appeal to scholars interested in meaning in language in
such fields as linguistics, semantics, and semiotics.

Jim Feist is an independent researcher, previously affiliated with the

University of Auckland, New Zealand, where he received his PhD in 2008.
His previous publications include Premodifiers in English (2012) and
Semantic Structure in English (2016).
Routledge Studies in Linguistics

29 Reconciling Synchrony, Diachrony and Usage in Verb Number

Agreement with Complex Collective Subjects
Yolanda Fernández-Pena

30 Chronotopes and Migration

Language, Social Imagination, and Behavior
Farzad Karimzad and Lydia Catedral

31 Women in Social Semiotics and SFL

Making a Difference
Eva Maagerø, Ruth Mulvad, and Elise Seip Tønnessen

32 Linguistic Worldview(s)
Approaches and Applications
Adam Głaz

33 The Discourse of Protest, Resistance and Social Commentary in

Reggae Music
A Bakhtinian Analysis of Pacific Reggae
Elizabeth Turner

34 Metonymies and Metaphors for Death Around the World

Wojciech Wachowski and Karen Sullivan

35 Cross-cultural Genre Analysis

Investigating Chinese, Italian and English CSR reports
Danni Yu
36 Significance in Language
A Theory of Semantics
Jim Feist

For more information about this series, please visit:

www.routledge.com/Routledge-Studies-in-Linguistics/book-series/SE0719
Significance in Language
A Theory of Semantics

Jim Feist
First published 2022
by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158

and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2022 Jim Feist

The right of Jim Feist to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance
with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The Open Access version of this book, available at www.taylorfrancis.com, has been made
available under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-No Derivatives 4.0
license.

Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,

and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book has been requested

ISBN: 978-1-032-19477-6 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-032-19478-3 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-25938-1 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003259381

Typeset in Sabon
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Contents

1 Introduction

1 General
2 Language; English and Other Languages
3 Semantics
4 The Theory, as Explanation of the Phenomena
5 The Theory, as Underlying Principles
6 Comprehensiveness of the Theory
7 Outline of the Book

2 Semantic Structure

1 Introduction to Semantic Structure

2 Hierarchic Semantic Structures
3 Network Structures
4 Other Structures
5 Realisation of Semantic Structures
6 Conclusion: Semantic Structure

3 Senses (1): Their Types of Meaning

1 Introduction
2 Characteristics of Senses
3 Content Meaning (1): Descriptive Meaning
4 Content Meaning (2): Emotive Meaning
5 Content Meaning (3): Attitudinal Meaning
 6 Social Meaning
7 Grammatical Meaning
8 Discussion: Types of Meaning
9 Conclusion: Types of Meaning

4 Senses (2): Their Dimensions and Uses

1 Dimensions of Meaning
2 Use of Senses

5 Senses (3): Their Internal Structure

1 Introduction
2 General Structure of Senses
3 Structure Specific to Semantic Classes
4 Discussion: Internal Structure of Senses
5 Structure of Sublexical Elements
6 Conclusion: Internal Structure of Senses

6 Discussion

1 Semantic Change
2 Semiosis
3 Relations Among Semantics and the Other Strata of Language
4 Relations Between Meaning and Knowledge
5 Relation Between Meaning and Reality
6 Further Research

7 Conclusion

1 Introduction
2 Summary of the Book
3 Methodology Used
4 Explanation Provided
5 Coherence With Other Fields of Study
6 Relation to Previous Semantics

Index
1

Introduction

DOI: 10.4324/9781003259381-1

1 General
The main purpose of this book is to present a comprehensive theory of the
semantics of language, integrating various approaches and existing
understanding, and extending common understanding of “meaning” to the
wider area of “significance”. (For example, the expression of emotion and
attitude, and the social significance of greetings, will be included.) A second
purpose is to persuade readers, where necessary, to accept the semiotic and
functional approaches used. Finally, the book is intended to provide
stimulating insights into unfamiliar topics, and fresh insights into familiar
ones.

2 Language; English and Other Languages

Language, as studied here, is natural human speech and writing, constituting
a conventionalised system. (That excludes forms of “paralanguage”, such as
laughter and sighs.) Sign language will also not be considered.
The language considered is not limited to any variety or form, such as
formal language or writing, or to any specific function or content, such as
passing on information. Consequently, it will include informal conversation,
greetings, interjections, poetry, and toddlers’ utterances like “Daddy home”.
The theory is applied primarily to English, because that is the only
language in which the writer claims expertise, and because key semantic
concepts used have not yet been applied to other languages. However, cross-
linguistic comparison is used where the writer has felt it possible to confirm
the theory by showing semantic similarities in languages that are
typologically quite different in morphosyntax, and by showing semantic
differences in typologically similar languages.

3 Semantics

GENERAL

Semantics is not a “natural kind”, like iron, which would make obvious what
we are talking about. Nor is there any consensus as to what it is; Riemer
(2016: 1) notes that it “could hardly be more protean and ambiguous”.
Consequently, I will begin with a characterisation of semantics, leaving
definition to the end of the book. We start from the assumption that
language is (among other things) a system of signs. The signs have
significance, and their significance is taken here to be equivalent to meaning.
(“Significance” is a key term in the book; it will be developed gradually.)

SPECIFICS
According to the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (2002); “SOED”
hereafter), semantics is either (a) “the branch of linguistics that deals with
meaning”, (b) “the relationship between linguistic symbols and their
meanings”, or (c) “the study or analysis” of those relationships. The primary
concern of this book is with (b), “the relationship between linguistic symbols
and their meanings”. The other aspects of semantics, as in (a) and (c), are of
secondary concern.
The relationship between symbols and meanings in language is wide-
ranging. It provides for “meaning” to include both the fact and the emotion
in remarks like, “I saw a wonderful film!”, although some linguists have
asserted that emotive utterances are meaningless. Also, meaning will
include, for instance, the significance of farewells, which are neither fact nor
feeling, but social ritual.
Being about the nature of meaning, semantics here does not study the
content of meaning. Thus, it studies the difference between approximate
synonyms, and even the difference between “salt”, “sodium chloride”, and
“NaCl”. It does not study the scientific knowledge that goes with the word
“salt”.
Just as linguistics is separate from science, it is taken to be distinct from
several other studies. It is not logic, as in studying logical and illogical
inferences, and in being concerned only with propositional meanings. It is
not epistemology, as in whether a statement satisfies the conditions for
being true. It is not metaphysics, as with whether certain words, such as
nouns, represents things which are real in the world.
Further, the study of semantics is taken to be pursued for the sake of
knowledge; it here excludes practical applications like making systems for
processing language by computer, just as the study of biology excludes
making heart pacemakers.
Within linguistics, semantics is restricted to significance that depends on
language conventions alone. That excludes significance that is dependent on
social or other conventions, as when a bridge player says “One club” to mean
“I have an opening hand, but I haven’t got a five-card major; I don’t
necessarily have any clubs”. That uses certain speakers’ conventions for the
game, contract bridge, not only linguistic conventions. Semantics here also
excludes “meaning” that is “reliant on mutual understanding of intentions,
goals and social relationships” (Saeed 2016: 177); for example, the maxims of
Grice (1975), such as “Do not say more than is needed”. All those issues are
excluded as part of pragmatics, which is here understood as including study
of what speakers choose to say, whereas linguistics deals with how they
choose to say it.1 Semantics here also excludes – a little arbitrarily, perhaps –
“dynamic semantics” e.g. Discourse Representation Theory. That studies
meaning as it changes in a hearer’s mind while the speaker keeps on talking,
which is close to being psychology, and which entails complexity that would
hinder the purpose of the book. “Semantics” also excludes both “discourse
analysis” (studying the structure of dialogue, for example), and “conversation
analysis” (studying personal interaction, such as taking turns). Both of those
are sociological rather than linguistic.

4 The Theory, as Explanation of the

Phenomena
There is no attempt here to define what a theory should be – no theory of
theory. There is, among scholars, no consensus on what a theory is or should
be, even within the physical sciences; still less is there consensus on what a
theory might be in semantics. The difficulty of defining it is highlighted by
some past proposals that have entailed unacceptable assumptions. For
example, according to Allan (2016), Katz’s proposals for what a semantic
theory requires include providing a metalanguage of semantics, covering all
languages, and defining the form of lexical entries; those proposals are not
requirements for all semantic theory, but are parts of one specific and
limited theory. Even simplicity, a very common criterion for theory, is
hardly relevant here or in any human science: where the facts are complex,
being faithful to the facts may well require a complex theory.
 What the book offers – which may or may not turn out in future to be
justifiable theoretically – is an explanation of the phenomena of meaning. (I
use the term “phenomena” to highlight my commitment to examining
everything that should be included as meaning, without assumptions that
could bias the conclusions.) The explanation is to be based on description,
covering both the basics and the subtleties of meaning, with generalisations
supported by cited data. Assumptions made are to be as few as possible, and
to be simple and clear; clearing away unjustified assumptions made in the
past is to be given particular attention. This is supported by Van Valin and
LaPolla (1997: §1.1), for example. They say that linguistic theory should
describe the phenomena, explain them, and give understanding of “the
cognitive basis of language”. They assert that the majority of linguists would
agree – which is encouraging. However, the perennial problem of unjustified
assumptions appears despite their empirical emphasis: they assert that
language is based on cognition, but that is something that the theory must
demonstrate.
Explanation will come from any field that offers further understanding. In
particular, it will be both internal, from other areas of language or other
languages, and external, from such fields as neurolinguistics and psychology.

5 The Theory, as Underlying Principles

The phenomena of life are extraordinarily diverse: animals may have two
eyes, three eyes, five eyes, or none; some live without oxygen, and at
temperatures above boiling point. The situation is simple and rational,
however, when understood through the evolutionary principles of random
variation, survival of the fittest, and adaptation to environment. The
phenomena of meaning are also very varied, and can also be understood
through underlying principles. A suggested list of these follows.
 One principle is implicit in the way language and meaning were char-
acterised earlier, namely, that language carries meaning through a system of
signs: language is semiotic. We should expect a sign for every meaning, and
a meaning for every sign. The signs are very variable, including concrete and
obvious ones, such as words, and rise and fall of the voice; others are
“invisible”, being abstract, such as word order. They gain extra importance
from the linearity of language, since there must be signs to signify how the
hearer is to construct hierarchic structures such as those within a clause.
The semiotics of language is one system; fairly obviously, there are others,
such as tense, number, and modification. We know that the systems in
language commonly become more complex and consistent as time passes,
and that language seems often to restore structure when a system does break
down. The oddities of language stand out because of that regularity,
contrasting with the background. Systematicity is an underlying principle.
The systems and the signs are not simply abstract. As language is uttered,
the signs take the form of sound waves or marks on paper: a further
principle is that meaning is instantiated or “embodied” – as physical,
observable phenomena. In taking that form, they are processed in the mind,
and therefore (we must assume) in the brain. Consequently, we must assume
that a theory of semantics must be psychologically and neurologically
realistic. That is another application of the principle of instantiation.
Along with the words and syntactic structures thus formed, meaning
changes. We must presume that it evolved as the human race evolved; it also
develops in historical time; and it develops in all of us, as we grow up.
Meanings may become more or less differentiated, and more or less
complex. The principle of development underlies semantics also.
As with biological evolution, the changes are to be explained partly by
apparently random variation, and partly by cause and effect; and just as
biological evolution results in diversification, filling every available niche, so
semantics comes to serve more and more purposes, and to serve them more
effectively, through greater precision, variety, and economy, for example.
There is a strong principle of expressiveness.
 Biological organs and processes are functional, in that they have value for
the survival and reproduction of the species. Similarly, the semiosis, the
systems, the expressiveness, and so on are functional, in that they have
value for individuals and society. The value may be for the speaker, the
hearer, or both; an utterance may have more than one function, just as our
mouths and our hands have more than one function. The principle of
functionality is more profound than those listed so far.
The most fundamental of all, however, is the principle that language – and
semantics with it – is a human activity. Because the activity is human,
meaning may be conscious, or below consciousness; language may be
rational, or emotive, or part of brute striving; it is subject to the biological
and social constraints of human life. In being an activity, it is first of all
something that occurs, in a place, and at a time, producing phenomena; only
second is it communication of “information”.
Considered as a series of assertions, that statement of principles makes
many assumptions about language, and about how to study it. Accordingly,
the principles are to be treated as hypotheses to be confirmed by their power
to explain the generalisations and details set out in the body of the book.
They will be developed gradually throughout the book. We will see
applications in all areas of semantics; and sub-principles will appear,
instantiating the basic principles. As noted above, they will constitute one
expression of the theory to be presented, paralleling the expression in forms
more commonly used in linguistics.
Nevertheless, I consider them less weighty than their confident
formulation here might suggest. I am not certain that those are all of the
principles; and there may well be better ways of formulating and relating
them.

6 Comprehensiveness of the Theory

The theory is intended to be comprehensive. Section 2 earlier specified that
the theory should apply to all varieties of language. Similarly, all semantic
structures, types, and forms should be covered, going beyond the limitations
of much past work, which has often been limited to the semantics of formal
language and, especially, limited to conceptual meaning.
It is intended to be comprehensive also in dealing with past semantic
work. I will argue that past theoretical views can be integrated, since the
varied “theories” or “approaches” are mostly complementary, emphasising
one approach or one principle. Formalists, for example, have concentrated
on abstract concepts allowing mathematical treatment; corpus linguists have
been preoccupied with one source of data; structuralists have made a theory
out of paradigms and syntagms.
To be satisfying, and for the theory to be comprehensive, the explanation
should come from a wide range of approaches. That can be shown by
analogy. If you see photographs of a mountain taken from different points of
the compass, its shape may seem to vary a great deal, and one perspective
may reveal features that are simply invisible from other perspectives. Again,
seeing a front elevation, a side elevation, and the plan of a house makes its
design both clearer and more complete than one perspective alone can.
The fact that language is processed in the mind suggests that a
psychological approach will be rewarding. Its implementation in the brain
suggests a neurological approach. Our using it for social interaction suggests
a sociological approach. Explanation from the linguistic levels of syntax and
phonology should also be considered, as should explanation from the
contexts in which we use language.
The book gives so much attention to function that it may seem to be
following a functionalist approach; moreover, it relies to an important extent
on Halliday’s Systemic Functional Grammar (Halliday 2004). However, I
believe that the text will show that other approaches have been used, and
that Halliday’s work has been accepted on its merits, not adopted
beforehand as a theory to be followed. I rely on Cruse (2011) similarly.
7 Outline of the Book

CONTENT

The book explains meaning as structures of units; to that extent, meaning

somewhat resembles syntax as a structure of words and morphemes. The
explanations constitute the theory; there is no grand, programmatic
statement embodying the theory, which might be worked out deductively.
Chapter 2 presents the structures. The basic ones parallel syntactic
structures, with statements expressed in syntactic clauses, for example, and
constituting a hierarchy – again like syntactic structures. There are also
network structures, related to the hierarchies in various ways.
Chapter 3 begins the study of senses, which are the paradigmatic units of
the structures discussed in Chapter 2, and which are typically the semantic
substance expressed in individual words. It sets out the types of meaning
that senses consist of, such as conceptual meaning and emotive meaning.
The types stand alone, or combine in various ways, affecting the structures
in which they occur and affecting syntactic and phonological expression.
Chapter 4 sets out the dimensions of meaning, such as generality, vagueness,
and intensity; just as the dimensions of height, width, and depth define a
physical object, so do these dimensions define semantic “objects”, i.e. senses.
Chapter 4 also sets out uses of meaning, such as literal and figurative use.
The types, dimensions, and uses control the overall nature of senses (and
thus their combination into larger structures). Chapter 5 deals with the
internal structure of senses, since senses do have internal structure, although
they act as units in the large-scale structures (e.g. sentences), just as atoms
have internal structure although they are units in molecules. Chapter 6
discusses broader issues, which have been spread across the previous
chapters. Chapter 7 summarises the theory; it provides some comments on
semantics as the study of meaning; and it argues for acceptance of the
theory, in general ways transcending the detail in the previous chapters, the
detail being intended to be convincing in its own right, as explanation of the
reader’s own experience of language.

CONVENTIONS OF PRESENTATION

The examples used are mostly presented in the text, not formally with
numbering and indentation; they seem too numerous, and often too brief,
for that. Reference to the source is generally given in a footnote, to mini-
mise interruptions in the text. (The examples are all attested, except for very
minor instances, and except for where their being invented is shown by
expressions like “That would mean …”).
I have used the SOED, rather than any other dictionary, as the source of
meaning definitions. As well as being recent, authoritative, and well known,
it uses layout and sequencing of senses that are very helpful for analysing
sense relationships and change in word meaning.
For quotations, “…” is used for the examples to be discussed, and for words
quoted from previous text. Single quotation marks (‘…’) are used for
meanings. Italic type is used to mark a word being discussed as a word in
the language, not as a quoted use. SMALL CAPITALS indicate concepts as units
of knowledge, which may be elements within the meaning; for example,
‘large’ and ‘small’ both include SIZE – that is, those two meanings include
the concept of size. Underlining is used for emphasis – to draw the reader’s
attention to the word to be discussed, or to replace spoken stress on a word I
am emphasising.
As the reader will be well aware, choice of terms is usually difficult in
linguistics, and I have found it particularly hard, since an important
motivation for writing the book has been the conviction that many
important concepts in semantics now need to be modified. That requires
either redefining familiar terms or using strange terms for familiar but
redefined concepts. I have done both, according to situation, and have
sometimes used initial capital letters to indicate that words are intended as
technical terms, often with new definitions. Some terms, such as “semantic
class”, denote concepts that will not be fully explained at first use, but will
be developed in stages, from different perspectives. In particular, the nature
of significance in language needs most of the book for explanation, so
“significance”, “meaning”, and “semantics” will be given strict definition only
at the end. Some other terms, such as “noun” and “verb”, have been used
because they are so familiar as to be almost indispensable, even though they
are inadequate in the understanding to be expounded here.

Note
1. Semantics here does include “pragmatics” in the sense that approximates “information
structure”.

References
Allan, Keith. (2016). A history of semantics. In Nick Riemer (Ed.), The
Routledge handbook of semantics (pp. 48–68). London/New York:
Routledge.
Cruse, Alan. (2011). Meaning in language: An introduction to semantics
and pragmatics (3rd edition; 1st edition 2004). Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Grice, Paul H. (1975). Logic and conversation. In Peter Cole; & Jerry
Morgan (Eds.), Syntax and semantics: Volume 3: Speech acts (pp. 41–
58). New York: Academic Press.
Halliday, M. A. K. (2004). An introduction to functional grammar (3rd
edition, revised by C. M. I. M. Matthiessen). London: Arnold.
Riemer, Nick. (2016). Introduction: Semantics – A theory in search of an
object. In Nick Riemer (Ed.), The Routledge handbook of semantics
(pp. 1–10). London/New York: Routledge.
Saeed, John. (2016). Semantics and pragmatics. In Nick Riemer (Ed.), The
Rout-ledge handbook of semantics (pp. 177–194). London/New York:
Routledge.
Shorter Oxford English Dictionary. (2002). Shorter Oxford English
Dictionary on historical principles (5th edition; 1st edition 1933).
Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Van Valin, Robert D.; & LaPolla, Randy J. (1997). Syntax: Structure,
meaning and function. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
2

Semantic Structure

DOI: 10.4324/9781003259381-2

1 Introduction to Semantic Structure

This chapter sets out to identify and describe different types of semantic
structure. Hierarchic structures will be discussed in section 2 – structures
like those in syntax, where clauses are composed of phrases, and phrases are
composed of words. Network structures are discussed in section 3, and other
structures in section 4. Section 5 deals with the realisation of those
structures; that will help explain them, and the realisation has a structure of
its own.
Different kinds of semantic structure occur because, as noted in the
general principles (Chapter 1, §5), language serves different functions (which
in many cases need different structures), and because language changes
readily enough to develop new structures.
It is not assumed that all languages have the structures discussed in this
chapter. In particular, it seems to me that some languages do not have group
structure, and I expect that some do not have a linguistic structure above
that of the clause, and the linguistic structure may be only that of words in
an utterance. That would entail limitation of the semantic structure, as well
as limitation of the syntactic structure. If English is as complex in semantic
structure as any other language, then this account should cover the range of
general structures; that is, any semantic structure not accounted for here
should be an instance of one given here, e.g. a type of alignment other that
accusative, ergative etc.

2 Hierarchic Semantic Structures

2.1 Introduction

In formal language (in English at least), each syntactic clause expresses

(“realises”) a semantic unit; the phrases within a clause realise smaller
semantic units. As well as having a primary intention, such as conveying
some information, speakers have secondary intentions, one of which is to
guide hearers in how to relate the information to their existing knowledge.
That creates another kind of structure, commonly known as “information
structure”, usually analysed into Topic and Comment, and so on. The
information structure does not coincide with syntactic structure; Topic, for
example, cannot be equated with Subject, or any other syntactic unit – it is a
content-unit. Consequently, we must distinguish between the semantic
structures expressed as syntactic units (“syntactic semantic units”), to be
dealt with in §2.2, and semantic structures expressed only as content units
(“content semantic units”), to be dealt with in §2.3.

2.2 Structure of Syntactic Units

2.2.1 Introduction
Semantic structure mirrors syntactic structure, for the basic and simple
reason that syntax serves to express meaning: complementary phrases
represent complementary ideas, such as actor and action; a word that is
syntactically subordinate to another as its head is semantically subordinate
to it as a modifier; words and phrases co-ordinated with and are
semantically co-ordinate. (There are some exceptions to those
generalisations, in marked use.) The three types of structure just described
can be defined as follows. A structure with units with equal status and the
same function is “co-ordination”; if units of equal status have different
functions, the structure is “complementation”, as with verb + complement in
syntax. A structure with units dependent on another unit is “subordination”.
Complementation is the structure of clauses, both syntactically and
semantically – the structure of the Subject, Predicator, Complement, and
Adjunct; it will be studied in §2.2.2. Co-ordination occurs in both clauses
and phrases; it will be studied in §2.2.3. Subordination structures phrases,
with heads and dependents; it will be studied in §2.2.4.

2.2.2 Complementation

2.2.2.1 INTRODUCTION

The semantic equivalent of a clause is a “figure”, which is the meaning

expressed by a single phonological contour, with its characteristic pattern of
rise and fall at the end, and typically followed by a pause. In formal English,
it is typically made up of “groups”, the equivalent of syntactic phrases
(Halliday 2004). Figures have developed as the expression of general
situations or “states of affairs”, which are differentiated to varying degrees.
In “It’s raining”, there is no differentiation: the concept rain is not specified
semantically as either an entity, as it would be in “Rain fell”, or as an event,
as in “It rained a late November drizzle” (British National Corpus). (Rained
has tense and time of occurrence; raining has no tense and time of
occurrence, so is not an event.)
The structure of figures varies similarly; for example, “Tomorrow night”,
in answer to “When is she getting here?”, would create a figure, just as “She’s
getting here tomorrow night” would. So does “again” in the following: “In
trying to hurt the Guards[,] Mr Trump could be helping them, again”,1
meaning, by ellipsis, ‘and he has done it before’. However, in this section, I
assume formal structure, as informal structure can usually be understood
from it, e.g. as a reduction by ellipsis. The presentation in this section will be
fairly brief, since it is set out in full by Halliday (2004), and it follows my
account in Feist (2016).
The section concentrates on structure as the relationships among the
units, but inevitably deals with the units themselves as well. The units will
be called “semantic classes”; they are treated incidentally in the first three
subsections, and treated systematically in the fourth (§2.2.2.4).

2.2.2.2 TYPES OF COMPLEMENTATION AND TYPES OF

FIGURE

Formally, a figure is a “configuration of a process, participants involved in it,

and any attendant circumstances”, which are in complementary relationship
(Halliday 2004: §5.1.1). The three types of unit noted there (process,
participants, and circumstances) correlate with syntactic units and constitute
semantic classes, which are named here as words with initial capitals, as
follows. (1) Processes correlate with the “verb” or Predicator.2 (2) Participants
correlate with Subject, and any “objects” or Complements. (3)
Circumstances, if any, correlate with adverbials, and with what some would
call “indirect objects”, and Adjuncts. Examples are given in Table 2.1, taken
from a daily newspaper report.

Table 2.1 Units in figure

Participant Process Participant Circumstance

The car hit a tree.

He died on his niece’s birthday.

There are several types of figure; Halliday (2004: chapter 5) lists six of
them, but I will deal with only three, since Halliday’s types overlap, and
explicating them all adds needless complexity. Moreover, the types are not
well defined; Halliday (2004: 301, in table 45) gives 11 criteria, rather than
definitions. This account is for English; some differences in other languages
will be discussed in §2.2.2.6.
Material-Process figures denote an action or event in the material world,
expressed in the verb. The Process has an input of energy, is situated in time,
and produces some change. It is conceptualised as having phases, such as a
beginning, a duration, and an ending. The Participants may be an Actor and
an Undergoer, the relationship being that of transitivity, with the Undergoer
affected by the change; but there may be only an Actor. The
conceptualisation is based on physical events, but is often applied loosely, by
metaphorical extension to abstract events.
A note on the terms: Participants, Processes, and Circumstances are
denoted by whole groups; the terms apply in figures. Individual word senses
are different, in a way to be explained more fully later. The nominal senses
heading Participant groups are “Entities”; the “verb” senses heading Process
groups, apart from copulas, are “Events”; the corresponding Circumstance
heads are typically “Properties”. (Those three types of sense are realisations
in syntax of lower-level entities, events, and properties – a distinction that is
also to be explained more fully later.)
Mental-Process figures denote processes in the inner world of cognition,
perception and emotion. They are conceptualised as happenings, without
input of energy, and without phases. Examples include ‘want’, ‘know’,
‘worry’, ‘remember’, and ‘regret’. The Participants are a Senser and a
Phenomenon. The relationship is like that of transitivity, in that there is a
sense of “going over”, but the second Participant is produced rather than
affected; the direction of the Event can usually be reversed, as with ‘she liked
the gift’ and ‘the gift pleased her’. The Process typically allows a
propositional noun clause as the Phenomenon, whereas material-Process
figures do not: “Bill thinks [mental Process] that he is right”, but not “Bill
jumps [material Process] that he …”). The Phenomenon may denote the same
reality as the Process, as in “They sang a hymn”, and “Police allege Smith is
the murderer”.
Relational-Process figures denote abstractions – abstracted from either the
outer or the inner world; the Process is a relation, rather than a happening
or action. There are three subtypes: (1) intensive relations with a Carrier and
an Attribute as Participants (“It is heavy”, “Joan is the woman in the
middle”); (2) possessive relations, with a Possessor and a Possessed; and (3)
circumstantial relations, with a Carrier and an Attribute (“This story is about
a lost baby”). As the examples show, the Process word is often a copula, but
may be a verb such as possess, weigh, or represent – denoting relations, not
happenings; as noted previously, the Process sense is not an Event.
The types of Process are distinct in the semantic nature of their
constituents, and their relationships. More important, they provide
alternatives for expression, since a happening can often be construed in
different Processes.3 For example, ‘He exceeded his work quota’ is a material
Process, and is transitive; “His output exceeded his quota” has a relational
Process, and it is not semantically transitive, although it is so syntactically.
Halliday (2004: §5.1.2) gives “My head is hurting me” as a material Process, “I
feel a pain in the head” as a mental Process, and “My head is painful” as a
relational Process. Those clear semantic distinctions also correlate to some
extent with morphosyntactic distinctions, such as whether the figure maybe
expressed in passive form, what present tense forms are allowable, and
whether the pro-verb do can be used for questions and ellipsis. (See Halliday
2004: §5.7.4, Table 5 (45).)
However, those distinctions are not consistent or rigorous, so we should
conclude that the Process types have been only partly grammaticised, and
are not (yet) fully distinct as linguistic categories. (Grammaticisation is the
Process of making an item part of the grammatical structure of language; it
contrasts with lexicalisation and semanticisation, which will be explained
later.) For further detail on Process types and other aspects of figures, see
Halliday (2004: chapter 5).
The types of Participant given in the discussion of Process types earlier
are what have often been called “semantic roles”, as will be clear from the
terms Actor and Undergoer. Some of the familiar semantic roles have been
omitted, such as Patient and Beneficiary. That is because they are based on
content distinctions, not grammatical ones, there being no forms correlated
with them in the grammatical system. (One might say that Beneficiary is
distinguished by the use of for, but that changes the syntax and the
information structure, not the role.)4
A conjunction is syntactically part of the following clause, since it is
dependent for its presence on the rest of the clause. However, it is
semantically not part of the figure, since it denotes a relationship that is
independent of both of the figures it links, and of which the two figures are
terms; it is bonded to them both, equally, by that grammatical relation.
This analysis of figures, and the implied analysis of clauses, does not
follow the common assumption that structure is binary, as in Subject +
Predicate. The analysis here shows that the semantic structure varies with
the utterance, having two or three or more units. Syntax is generally aligned
with semantics, since it generally serves to symbolise or “represent”
semantics. (Even presentative clauses such as “There | is | a man at the door”
fit that generalisation, since there has significance in information structure.)
We should therefore take syntax to be binary only where there is clear
evidence for that.
Garcia and Ibáñez support the main distinctions here neurolinguistically,
showing that there are neurological differences between Processes and
Participants (Garcia and Ibáñez 2016: §4.1), and between material Processes
and others (Garcia and Ibáñez 2016: §4.2).
Another random document with
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accepted money and turned every cent of it into the party treasury
for honest propaganda work. But once admit this conduct to be
justifiable and the day of such leaders will soon be over. Inevitably
they must be succeeded by less scrupulous politicians who will sell
public property and betray public interests right and left, and, after
deducting large sums to feather their own nests, still be in a position
to contribute to the support of the party more largely than any
conscientious leader. Under these conditions the political influence of
wealthy corporations or wealthy men will be limited solely by the
amount of money they are willing to spend. No matter with what
reservations and good intentions such practices are entered upon,
they will mean in the end nothing more and nothing less than that
government is on hire or on sale to the highest bidders. There is no
easier road by which democracy may pass over into plutocracy; and
it is indeed fortunate that the American people in its recent attitude
toward the question of campaign contributions has begun to show an
adequate realisation of the danger confronting it.

To sum up the argument presented in the foregoing pages, it

should be noted that while it is comparatively easy to formulate a
definition of corruption, to point out the difference between the legal
and ethical conceptions of the matter, to distinguish between bribery
and auto-corruption and, in general, to mark out the logical
boundaries of the field, the application of these definitions and
distinctions is made immensely difficult by the variety of political
institutions, the divergence of political practices and the conflict
between general opinion and class opinions. A number of
conclusions would nevertheless seem to deserve at least tentative
expression.
(1) The prevalence of charges of corruption and of actual
corruption in American politics is not of itself proof of our inferiority in
political morality to the other great nations of the world.
(2) Considering opportunities and temptations, our current political
morality is at least not yet proven to be inferior to our business and
social morality in general.
(3) Unsupported charges of corruption are too frequently indulged
in by practical politicians, reformers, and conservatives, the results
being a popular moral callousness and a loss of social confidence
which render all constructive work more difficult.
(4) Acts involving corrupt motives range in current social
estimation all the way from heinous felonies to minor foibles. The
view that there are only a few “corruptionists,” all of whom richly
deserve criminal sentences and might receive them without unduly
crowding our penitentiaries, is a grotesque misconception. Instead of
this we must recognise frankly that self-interest and social interests
are inextricably bound up as motive forces of our social machinery,
often working in harmony and reinforcing each other, but sometimes
colliding and presenting new questions for moral determination and
social protective action.
(5) From among such cases of collision between social and self-
interest we must endeavour to single out those most obviously
harmful to society and the state, and, not content with branding them
as morally bad, we must formulate legal prohibitions supported by
penalties severe enough to check the evil. Particularly important in
this field of work is a thorough solution of the whole problem of
campaign contributions.
(6) Certain cases in which political action is determined by corrupt
considerations may be more effectively combated with moral than
with legal sanctions. These are cases which threaten no very serious
consequences, cases in which the corrupt considerations are not
directly material in character, cases in which personal advantage is
not so much sought as the advantage of some social group, and all
other cases of so subtle or undecided a character that definite legal
action, at least under existing conditions, is impossible. In the
presence of many such difficulties we can only plead for a clearer
recognition by the individual of duty to the state and to society as a
whole. On the other hand, society and the state as now constituted
fall short of a full and humane ideal of justice and hence are partly
responsible for existing corruption.
 Finally it should be said that all effective work against corruption
must be two-fold. On the one hand we must endeavour to raise
moral and legal standards to a higher level. On the other hand we
must unrelentingly prosecute actual offences to the full extent of
existing law. Work of the first sort must be either impersonal or
based upon well authenticated facts. Work of the second sort must
above all things be subjected to a wise restraint; sweeping charges
resting merely upon suspicion must be scrupulously avoided; direct
and well-founded charges must be put into legal form and fought to
the last resort. Reformers should learn to bring down all direct and
personal accusations to the level of existing law, until they have
succeeded in bringing the level of the law up to their ideal standard.

FOOTNOTES:
[15] Other illustrations of auto-corruption may be found in
speculation by inside officials on the basis of crop reports not yet
made public, and in real-estate deals based on a knowledge of
projected public improvements.
[16] Misperformance and neglect of duty do not clearly include
cases of usurpation with corrupt motives; hence the addition of
this clause to the definition. Some usurpations may of course be
defended as involving high and unselfish motives, and hence free
from corruption.
[17] Mr. Seeley has shown, of course, that no actual despotism,
so-called, really conforms to this conception, but for purposes of
argument, at least, the assumption may be permitted to stand.
[18] Political Science Quarterly, vol. xix (1904), p. 673.
[19] Cf. C. Howard, “The Spirit of Graft,” Outlook, vol. lxxxi
(1905), p. 365.
[20] Outlook, 65:115 (May 12, 1905).
[21] Political Science Quarterly, vol. xviii (1902), p. 188.
[22] Atlantic, vol. xcv (1905), p. 781.
[23] J. E. C. Bodley, France, bk. iii, ch. vi, p. 306.
CORRUPTION: A PERSISTENT PROBLEM OF
POLITICAL AND SOCIAL LIFE
 III
CORRUPTION: A PERSISTENT PROBLEM OF POLITICAL

AND SOCIAL LIFE

In its broadest significance, corruption has been defined as “the

intentional misperformance or neglect of a recognised duty, or the
unwarranted exercise of power, with the motive of gaining some
advantage more or less directly personal.” Evil of this sort may occur
not only in the state, but also in the church, the family, in business
associations, and every other kind of social body. One may infer
from the nature of corruption itself that if developed to an extreme
degree it will cause the dissolution of any organisation affected by it.
Every social body requires as a prime condition of its existence a
certain subordination of individual interest to the general interest.
Corruption essentially means the preference of the former to the
latter. If self-interest continuously grows more potent while group
interest pari passu declines, evidently the social organisation so
affected will weaken and finally die. “The king by judgment
establisheth the land: but he that receiveth gifts overthroweth it.”
Universally triumphant corruption, therefore, would destroy the body
from which it had drawn the sustenance for its own parasitic life.
Anarchy would be far preferable to the extreme logical
consequences of corruption. For anarchy seeks to destroy only the
compulsory political forms of human society, leaving men free to
associate voluntarily in all other ways, whereas ultimate corruption
would loosen every social bond and reduce humanity to the state of
nature as Hobbes conceived it:—bellum omnium contra omnes.
Corruption, then, is a social disease that may terminate fatally.
Social death does not always occur because of it, but from the social
point of view it is always a pathological condition. Few of the great
tragedies of history involving the fall of nations or of mighty
institutions can be explained fully without reference to the
antecedent corroding influence of corruption. It had a part in the
decline of Greece and Rome, in the Protestant Reformation, the
overthrow of the Stuart dynasty in England, the partition of Poland,
and the French Revolution. Other causes contributed to these events
and were perhaps more largely instrumental in bringing them about,
—ignorance, inefficiency, tyranny, immorality, extravagance, and
obstinacy,—but in each instance corruption was also present on a
large scale. Even in cases of historical catastrophes where the
crushing force was applied from the outside it is usually possible to
discern how the victor’s path was smoothed by the disintegrating
effect of corruption upon the social structure of the vanquished.[24]
For this reason Europe fell more easily before Napoleon from 1796
to 1812, imperial France before Germany in 1870-’71, and Russia
before Japan in 1904-’05.
While the disastrous consequences of widespread corruption as
shown by such instances are not to be lightly underestimated, it is
evident, on the other hand, that corrupt conditions may exist even on
a considerable scale without bringing about the extreme penalty of
disintegration or conquest. Recoveries little short of the miraculous
are sometimes noted in this field of social pathology. It
would be difficult to conceive a lower stage of degradation than that
reached by the English ministry and parliament during and
immediately following the time of Walpole, yet to-day England enjoys
the reputation of possessing one of the most honest and efficient
governments in the world. American municipal reformers sometimes
despair of any efficacious remedy for the corruption which prevails in
our cities. They should take heart upon observing the degraded
conditions which prevailed in Prussian municipalities prior to Stein’s
Städteordnung of 1808, and in England prior to the Municipal Reform
Act of 1835. In both instances formerly corrupt conditions have been
succeeded by honest and efficient municipal systems which are
observed with envy and commented upon with admiration the world
over.
The conclusion which the foregoing illustrations seem to warrant is
that while corruption is a pathological condition which in an extreme
degree may lead to social death, it is also susceptible to treatment
which may bring about recovery with renewed and even enhanced
vigour. Between these two extremes every degree of partial strength
or weakness may exist in a social body as a result of the presence or
after effects of corruption. The Roman Church suffered a
tremendous loss of influence in Western and Northern Europe as a
result of the Reformation. It has never recovered this territory, but it
survived as an institution which, modified by internal reforms, has
acquired a greater influence and a greater number of communicants
than the mediæval church ever dreamed of. Spain, partly through
corruption, lost her colonial empire, but the mother country remains
intact. True Lord Salisbury called it a “decadent nation,” but at least it
is not in ruins. Germany was victor over corrupt imperial France in
the last great European war. The progress of the Vaterland since
that event seems phenomenal, but already uneasy voices, troubled
at contemporary conditions, particularly in the army and the
emperor’s immediate entourage, are raising the question: “What
does the future hold for us,—Jena or Sedan?” Conquered in
1870-’71, the French, in Gambetta’s deathless words, nevertheless
remained “a great nation which does not wish to die.” The history of
the Third Republic has been besmirched at times by scandals of the
most offensively corrupt character. Yet in spite of this and other
national weaknesses the outside world is probably altogether too
much inclined to underestimate the latent strength of modern
France.
Contemplation of the general evils which may result from
corruption suggests the possibility of eliminating it from social life.
While such a condition of affairs may be looked upon as an ideal, it
will nevertheless remain an ultimate ideal which can be
approximated rather than realised, and that only by the most patient,
determined, and continued effort. Every social organisation, as we
have seen, presupposes the subordination in some measure of
personal to broader interests. But no matter how far social
integration is carried, and social duty correspondingly emphasised,
there will always remain a field for individual effort. Absolute
communism in which the state shall be everything and the individual
nothing is unthinkable. Even where the individual as such is but little
regarded, he will remain a member of small social groups, as e.g.,
the family or business corporation, the interests of which are almost
if not quite as close to him as the interests of his naked ego. The
lines bounding the two great fields of individual interest and social
interest are variously drawn in different countries and at different
times. No doubt they will be redrawn in the future, probably greatly to
the extension of social functions if one may judge from the present
drift. Always, however, the two great fields will remain, and the best
results in each will depend partly upon the activities of the other. In
the main these activities do not conflict, indeed they strongly
reinforce one another. When the individual pursues his daily work
diligently and intelligently, although primarily with a selfish end in
view, he is nevertheless adding to national wealth and welfare. So
also with most of the activities of the family, the church, the club, and
the business corporation. In each of these cases, however, it is
inevitable that conflicts will sometimes occur between individual and
narrow group interests on the one hand, and broader social interests
on the other. These conflicts may gradually take on less selfish and
less dangerous forms, but will hardly disappear so long as the
character of the individual and the constitution of society remain
fundamentally unchanged. The problem of corruption, therefore, is a
persistent one. There will always remain the possibility of moral
struggle for improvement; there will never be absolute perfection in
these extensive and involved relationships.
A very striking implication of the persistent character of the
problem may be found in the fact that much of the current
terminology of political science implies the presence of corruption as
a common factor in the life of the state. To modern students Greek
classifications of forms of government appear rather naive,
considered simply as classifications, but many of the separate terms
employed in them nevertheless remain in general use. Plato, for
example, describes the decline of the pure Republic ruled by
philosophers who are actuated by the highest motives, first into
Timarchy, next into Oligarchy, then into Democracy in the sense of
mob rule, and finally into Tyranny. We must infer that in the real
world, as the Philosopher saw it, the number of perfect Republics,
granting that such beatific political entities or any acceptable
approximation to them could exist, would be far less than the number
of degenerate states. The common characteristic of all the latter from
Timarchy to Tyranny is the predominance of some form of personal
or narrow group interest over the highest interests of the state. In
other words the great majority of state forms as classified by Plato
are to be distinguished by the degree and kind of corruption they
exhibit. Aristotle’s distinction between pure forms of constitutions,—
Royalty, Aristocracy, and Polity,—and the corresponding perverted
forms,—Tyranny, Oligarchy, and Democracy,—is based
fundamentally upon the existence of purity or corruption in the
sovereign, whether it be composed of the one, few, or many. Dealing
as he was largely with actual constitutions, Aristotle makes it clear
that in the world as he knew it, the corrupt forms of government,
particularly oligarchy and democracy, were much more common than
the pure forms, that, in fact, some degree of corruption was frequent,
and purity, on the other hand, exceptional in political life. Other
classifications of states regardless of their moral condition are, of
course, possible. Mr. Seeley has given us one that, for modern
purposes, is certainly much more useful than the Aristotelian. The
continued use of the latter in common speech and, to a somewhat
less extent in historical and scientific discussion, is evidence,
however, of a high degree of availability in describing actual political
conditions or what are believed to be such. And since this
terminology implies the existence of corruption as an ordinary
accompaniment of political life, its wide acceptance and continued
use strengthens the conviction that corruption in some form is a
persistent problem of politics.
While the general problem bids fair to remain with us always, the
particular forms and extent of corruption will be subject to change in
the future as in the past. History justifies the hope that these
changes will be for the better.[25] Many of the grosser forms of
corruption current in earlier periods are impossible now. Charles II.
was not the only king of his century who accepted corrupt subsidies
from foreign monarchs. At the present time it is impossible to doubt
that the essential loyalty of the executive heads of the principal
civilised countries of the world would be demonstrated unmistakably
in case they should be approached by corrupt solicitation from the
outside. The modern spirit of nationality and patriotism would wreak
tremendous vengeance upon any royal offender against it. The
loyalty of contemporary monarchs, however, is probably due in very
slight degree, if at all, to the fear of punishment. In addition to the
responsibility enforced upon constitutional kings, a keener sense on
their part of participation in the national spirit and higher standards
both of personal rectitude and of international dealings make
corruption of this sort well nigh unthinkable in the modern world. To a
large measure also these virtues have been extended over the
whole administrative service of civilised states and absorbed as a
part of current moral practice. Hence even in the case of inferior
officials who have been seduced by foreign bribes, as e.g., the sale
of military plans and secrets, a heavy penalty of popular obloquy is
added to the severe penalty of the law.
The mention of Charles II. suggests another form of corruption, the
earlier wide extension of which is familiar to every reader of history.
In times past royal mistresses appeared openly at court, secured
titles of nobility and grants of land for themselves, their children, and
their favourites, dictated appointments in the civil and military
service, and overruled decisions of internal and foreign policy. It may
be admitted that the sexual morality of some contemporary
monarchs is not above reproach. Yet the evil, so far as it exists to-
day, is largely personal, and is chiefly objectionable because of its
unfavourable influence upon the family life of the people at large. No
modern king ruling over a civilised country, it is safe to say, could
openly flaunt his mistresses and allow it to be seen that his passion
for them affected his policies as head of the state.
As another illustration of the disappearance of certain forms of
corruption once extremely common the famous case of Lord Bacon
may be cited. His offence as Lord Chancellor consisted not in the
taking of presents from suitors, for to do so after judgment was the
open practice of the time. Inadvertently, however, Bacon accepted a
present before a case was decided, and this was made the basis of
the charge of corruption which brought about his downfall. The
morality of the time had reached a stage at which it perceived clearly
the corrupting effect upon the judicial mind of presents in advance of
a decision, and held them to be bribes. It had not reached the
modern point of view that the expectation of a present after giving
decision is also corrupting, particularly since the present of one of
the litigants is very likely to be larger than that of the other. One can
safely maintain that the open receipt of presents by judicial officers
of higher rank is extremely rare in English speaking countries and in
Western Europe at the present time. Judges of our own lower courts
are sometimes accused of truckling to the party influences to which
they owe their election, but so far as it exists this is a much more
subtle and surreptitious form of corruption than present giving, or as
it would frankly be called nowadays, bribe-giving by litigants.[26] Any
approach, or even appearance of approach, to offences of the latter
sort would call forth sharp expressions of condemnation. In his “Four
Aspects of Civic Duty,” President Taft presents a very striking and
acute argument on the necessity of the exercise of extreme
circumspection by judicial officials which will serve to illustrate the
progress in morals from Lord Bacon’s time to the present:
“A most important principle in the success of a judicial system and
procedure is that the administration of justice should seem to the
public and the litigants to be impartial and righteous, as well as that it
should actually be so. Continued lack of public confidence in the
courts will sap their foundations. A careful and conscientious judge
will, therefore, strive to avoid every appearance from which the always
suspicious litigants may suspect an undue leaning toward the other
side. He will give patient hearing to counsel for each party, and,
however clear the case may be to him when stated, he will not betray
his conclusion until he has heard in full from the party whose position
cannot be supported. More than this, it not infrequently happens,
however clear his mind in the outset, that argument, if he has not a
pride of first opinion that is unjudicial, may lead him to change his
view.
“This same principle is one that should lead judges not to accept
courtesies like railroad passes from persons or companies frequently
litigants in their courts. It is not that such courtesies would really
influence them to decide a case in favour of such litigants when justice
required a different result; but the possible evil is that if the defeated
litigant learns of the extension of such courtesy to the judge or the
court by his opponent he cannot be convinced that his cause was
 heard by an indifferent tribunal, and it weakens the authority and the
general standing of the court.
“I knew of one judge who indignantly declared that of course he
accepted passes, because he would not admit, by declining them, that
such a little consideration or favour would influence his decision. But
in the view I have given above a different ground for declining them
can be found than the suggestion that such a courtesy would really
influence his judgment in a case in which the railroad company giving
the courtesy was a party.”[27]

The intimate relation between present giving and bribery, suggests

another illustration somewhat similar to the preceding. Readers of
the famous diary of Samuel Pepys are familiar with the fact that in
his official capacity as Clerk of the Acts and Surveyor General of the
Victualling Office he often accepted presents. In one instance we
find him quoting with grave approval the sage observation of his
patron, Lord Sandwich, to the effect that “it was not the salary of any
place that did make a man rich, but the opportunity of getting money
while he is in the place.”[28] Venal as it may appear to the modern
reader Pepys undoubtedly lived up to this precept, and owed to its
consistent practice the very considerable property which he
afterwards amassed. Yet one would be over hasty to conclude that
the author of the “Diary” was an arch corruptionist. On the contrary
he was so distinctly superior, both in efficiency and honesty, to most
of his colleagues, that he won much well-merited recognition and
succeeded in retaining office practically throughout the whole
Restoration period in spite of the many upheavals and intrigues of
that troublous time. While Pepys frankly admits that he accepted
presents he insists that he never forgot the “King’s interest.” The
manifest danger of allowing an official to measure in this way the
quality of service due a sovereign, does not seem to occur to the
diarist. On the other hand, he refers frequently, and usually in terms
of condemnation, to many contemporaries in the administrative
service who, at least in his opinion, were much less scrupulous than
they should have been in determining the “King’s interest.” Thus he
records the utterances of a certain Cooling, the Lord Chamberlain’s
secretary and a veritable drunken roaring Falstaff of corruption, who
boasted that “his horse was a bribe, and his boots a bribe; and told
us he was made up of bribes, as an Oxford scholar is set out with
other men’s goods when he goes out of town, and that he makes
every sort of tradesman to bribe him; and invited me home to his
house, to taste of his bribe wine.”[29] Sometimes, indeed, Pepys
became involved in transactions where the “King’s interest,” as he
measured it, received less than its due share of attention. We find
him fearing investigation in such cases, and withdrawing from them
with the resolution not to allow himself to become similarly involved
again. Yet on the whole there is every evidence of a conscious
feeling on his part of rectitude superior to the administrative morals
of the time. That it was largely justified in spite of the receipt of gifts
may be seen from Dr. Wheatley’s comment to the effect that “public
men in those days, without private property, must have starved if
they had not taken fees, for the King had no idea of wasting his
money by paying salaries. At the time of Pepys’s death there was a
balance of £28,007, 2 s. 1¼ d. due to him from the Crown, and the
original vouchers still remain an heirloom in the family.”[30]
Appointments to public office have been a fruitful field for
corruption in many forms. In his “Civil Service in Great Britain,” Mr.
Dorman B. Eaton sums up the whole history of the disposal of
patronage in England in the following statement:—“From the
despotic system, under the Norman kings, through various spoils
systems under arbitrary kings—through a sort of partisan system
under Cromwell—through fearful corruption under James and
Charles—through a sort of aristocratic spoils system under William
and Anne—through a partisan spoils system under George I. and II.,
and a part of the reign of George III.—through the partisan system in
its best estate in later years—we have traced the unsteady but
generally ascending progress of British administration; and, in 1870,
we shall find it to have reached a level at which office is treated as a
trust and personal merit is the recognised criterion of selection for
office.”[31] It would be a most absurd anachronism to regard all the
earlier practices referred to by Mr. Eaton with the horror of a modern
civil service reformer. Richard the Lion-Hearted could hardly have
comprehended the advantage of competitive literary examinations
open to all classes of his subjects as a means of selecting his
subordinates. When under the Plantagenets and Tudors “charters
and monopolies, in a fit of good nature, were tossed by a king to
some borough, great officer, or favourite that had pleased him; and,
in a fit of anger or drunkenness—as arbitrarily revoked,”[32] it must
be remembered that neither the law nor the morals of the time
severely condemned such actions. No wonder, therefore, that “the
old system was bold, consistent, and outspoken—not pretending to
make selections for office out of regard for personal merit or
economy, or the general welfare. It plainly asserted that those in
power had a right and duty to keep themselves in power and
preserve their monopoly in any way which their judgement should
approve, and that the people were bound to submit.”[33] Further “the
right to appoint to office and to sell the appointment openly for
money became also, and long remained, hereditary; sometimes in
great families and sometimes in the holder for the time being of the
offices themselves.”[34] No doubt the exercise of such rights of
purchase was once regarded generally as no more objectionable
than the sale of a private physician’s practice or the sale of the good
will of a business at the present time. But while the various earlier
methods of disposing of the patronage as sketched by Mr. Eaton
must be judged with reference to contemporary political morality, it is
true that each of them in turn fell into disrepute, was abolished—
often only after several trials—and finally superseded by a less faulty
system. Even as far back as Magna Charta the existence of a faint
conception of the modern civil service principle is made plain by the
Forty-fifth Article, according to which the King engaged not to “make
any justices, constables, sheriffs, or bailiffs, but of such as know the
law of the realm.” All the great subsequent uprisings of English
history were directed in part against certain other abuses of the
corrupt patronage system. The Tyler and Cade Rebellions in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the great Civil War, the expulsion
of James II., the overthrow of Walpole, the failure of George III.’s
attempt at personal government,—each marked a higher standard of
public sentiment on the question. Between 1820 and 1870, the great
modern civil service reform orders were passed, resulting in the final
establishment of open competition for over 80,000 positions under
the English government. Opportunities for corrupt practices in
connection with appointment to office are, of course, not entirely
excluded even by so thoroughgoing a system as that which now
exists in England, but they are few and unimportant indeed
compared to the possibilities of selfish abuses under former régimes.
It is by no means necessary to review the whole sweep of a
nation’s history in order to observe the discarding of old, and the
evolution of newer and usually less dangerous forms of corruption.
Such a career as that of Tweed would be impossible in any
American city to-day. The crude methods he employed,—raising
bills, throwing contracts to members of the Ring, keeping false
books, delaying financial reports,—would certainly and promptly
send any one who attempted them at the present time to the
penitentiary. Indeed no small part of existing municipal legislation
can be traced back to the specific misdeeds of Tweed and others of
his ilk. On the other hand it must be admitted that the ablest
corruptionists sometimes show skill little short of genius in devising
new schemes to avoid the pitfalls of existing law and in keeping
always just beyond the grasp of new enactments. Mr. Steffens tells a
story of Chris Magee, former boss of Pittsburgh, to the effect that he
visited and made a most careful study of the machines of
Philadelphia and New York and particularly of their defects, finally
returning to his own city with the conviction that a “ring could be
made as safe as a bank.”[35] In this field, as in the ethics of business
management and elsewhere, there will probably always be a running
duel between anti-social action and legislation designed to check it.
Novel methods of corruption will constantly require novel methods of
correction. In the nature of the case the law will usually be slightly
behind the artifices of the most skilful corruptionists: abuses must
exist and be felt as such before the government can successfully
define and punish them. On the other hand this constant
development of the law should make corrupt practices increasingly
difficult for the less gifted rascals who must always constitute the
great majority of would-be offenders. As things are now the ignorant
heeler, and even the crooked tool who has received an ordinary
education, realise that they cannot play the game alone. Their only
hope of escaping the penitentiary is in the service of the machine
whose leaders understand the legal requirements of the situation,
and possess the skill or influence necessary to circumvent them.
While the consequences of corruption must in general be
weakening and disintegrating, their full import may be concealed or
postponed owing to the limitation of the evil condition to certain
branches or spheres of government which for the time being are not
called upon to function to their full capacity. A chain is no stronger
than its weakest link, but it may serve very well so long as no great
tensile strain is applied to it. The military arm of a government
otherwise honest and efficient might conceivably become well nigh
paralysed by corruption without any particular evil consequences so
long as hostilities were avoided. All the more terrible, on the other
hand, would be the awakening in case of the advent of war. The
reverse case is suggested by Tennyson:

“Let your reforms for a moment go!

Look to your butts and take good aims!
Better a rotten borough or so
Than a rotten fleet and a city in flames!”

Here the point is that a corrupt local government need occasion little
or no disadvantage during a state of war provided the army can be
relied upon thoroughly. Further the poet warns against agitation for
the reform of internal abuses lest it might weaken the country in the
presence of a foreign foe. Doubtless both points are well taken so far
as an immediate emergency is concerned. If war is not imminent,
however, that government would certainly be making the best
preparation against future trouble which sought to establish the
highest standard of honesty in both its civil and military services.
Thus the Freiherr vom Stein immeasurably strengthened Prussia for
the final conflict with Napoleon by reforming the rotten boroughs of
his country and appealing on the basis of this reform to the
patriotism of the liberal classes of his fellow citizens. Moreover there
would seem to be little real danger of urging internal reforms so
violently during periods of warfare as to cripple military strength. Of
course if a government has been reduced to the last extremity of
unpopularity by past mismanagement, revolutionists might take
advantage of a declaration of war to tear it to pieces, hailing foreign
troops as allies rather than opponents. In the more advanced
countries of the modern world, however, the spirit of nationality and
patriotism is so highly developed that internal reforms are instantly
relegated to the background at the least threat of foreign
embroilment. To such peoples the poet’s adjuration to

“Let your reforms for a moment go”

is hardly needed.
Definite instances of corruption affecting certain spheres or
departments of government particularly may readily be suggested.
There is much that is significant in the corruption of the judicial
officials of China. Ultimately they became so rapacious that
merchants feared to come before them, preferring to leave
commercial differences to be settled by the arbitration of officers of
guilds of which the business men themselves were members. Thus
corruption of one social organ may lead to its atrophy and the
corresponding strengthening of another social organ which takes
over the functions of the former. Assuming that the function is as well
performed in the second case, the internal life of the whole structure
in which the transition takes place may be very little affected except
while the change is going on. If, however, the state is continually
weakened by such transfers while at the same time the functions
remaining to it become rotten with corruption it may finally reach the
condition of abject defencelessness which China has shown in its
relations with other nations.
Another very curious case of corruption limited to certain spheres
of government is furnished by Japan. In his authoritative work on that
country,[36] Captain Brinkley expresses the opinion that the higher
and lower official classes are free from corruption while the middle
grade is more or less given over to it. The passage containing this
statement is so germane to the present discussion that it may be
quoted in full:
“There is an old and still undecided controversy among foreign
observers as to bribery in Japan. Many Japanese romancists
 introduce the douceur in every drama of life, and historical annals
show that from the seventeenth century downward Japanese rulers
legislated against bribery with a degree of strenuous persistence
which seems to imply conviction of its prevalence. Not only were
recipients of bribes severely punished, but informers also received
twice the amount in question. Japanese social relations, too, are
maintained largely by the giving and taking of presents. Visits to make
or renew an acquaintance are always accompanied by gifts; the four
seasons of the year are similarly marked; even deaths call for a
contribution to funeral expenses; nearly all services are ‘recognised,’
and guests carry back from their entertainer’s house a box of
confectionery or other edibles in order that the households may not be
entirely excluded from the feast. The uses of such a system evidently
verge constantly on abuses, and prepare the observer to find that if
the normal intercourse of life sanctions these material aids, abnormal
occasions are likely to demand them in much greater profusion. All
evidence thus far obtained goes to prove that Japanese officials of the
highest and lowest classes are incorruptible, but that the middle ranks
are unsound. A Japanese police constable will never take a bribe nor
a Japanese railway employé a pour boire, and from Ministers of State
to chiefs of departmental bureaux there is virtual freedom from
corruption. But for the rest nothing can be claimed, and to the case of
tradespeople, inferior agents, foremen of works, contractors, and so
on, the Japanese proverb may probably be applied that ‘even hell’s
penalties are a matter of money.’”
A third illustration of the uneven distribution of corruption
throughout a political structure may be found in our own case. In the
United States, as is well known, the general opinion of the honesty
and efficiency of the federal government is extremely high; state
government enjoys considerably less repute; and municipal
government is pretty commonly and indiscriminately condemned.
Even in the case of the latter, however, it is worth while to observe
that in some cities otherwise considered almost hopelessly bad,
certain departments, notably public schools and fire protection, are
recognised as being managed on a much higher plane than other
branches of the municipal service. In such cases public recognition
of the importance of the departments concerned has led to an
insistence on efficiency and honesty that has proven effective. The
conclusion would seem to be well founded, therefore, that a proper
recognition by our city population of the vital importance of other
branches of the service, such as sanitation, refuse disposal, water
supply, building and housing inspection, letting of contracts, and so
on, would go far toward bringing about much needed improvements.
It would also appear that corruption may be omnipresent and yet
not extremely harmful because of the moderation of its demands. A
practical politician once remarked that “the people will never kick on
a ten per cent rake off.” It is quite possible that the effort to wipe out
so modest a tribute by a reform agitation opposed to the principle of
the thing might cost more in effort or even in campaign expenses
than would be represented by the saving to the municipal treasury or
public. Obviously, however, the advisability of an effort for the
establishment of honest government is not to be calculated in
financial values only. The moral effect of a corrupt exaction of ten per
cent which no one thinks it worth while to attack may be worse than
the moral effect of a fifty per cent exaction which is vigorously
condemned. A purely Machiavellian machine leader may also
discern a degree of danger lurking in a government ten per cent
corrupt due to the very fact that the electorate accepts it with
quiescence. Under such conditions it is difficult to convince the more
greedy minor politicians that while they can get ten per cent without
a murmur they could not take twenty or even fifteen per cent without
serious trouble. The great expenses of political management which
the leaders are called upon to meet must also incline them at times
to exactions beyond the verge of prudence.
From the point of view of an organisation politician, therefore, the
determination of the limits within which corruption seems safe is a
serious and ever present problem. Certain features of the situation
may be noted as exerting an influence in favour of a moderate policy.
One of these is the contractual nature of many corrupt practices that
are alleged to be common. For example, franchises sought by
dishonest means usually possess a value which is pretty exactly
known to the intending purchasers. The amount which they are
actually willing to pay may be determined only after close bargaining
and the allowance of a large discount owing to the danger
inseparable from this method of acquisition. Immunity to carry on
businesses under the ban of the law is subject to the same rule.
 The “Gambling Commission” which was said to exist in New York
in 1900-’01, and to have been “composed of a Commissioner who is
at the head of one of the city departments, two State Senators, and
the dictator of the pool-room syndicate of this city,”[37] owed its
partial exposure to a violation of this rule. The “Commission” was
alleged to have established a regular tariff for the various forms of
gambling as follows:—Pool Rooms, $300 per month; Crap Games,
and Gambling Houses (small), $150 per month; Gambling Houses
(large), $1000 per month; Envelope Games, $50 per month. These
rates would seem sufficiently high to provoke complaint from those
who had to pay them. Nevertheless the exposure, which came from
the gamblers themselves, was not so much due to the size of the
exactions as to the great increase in the number of the gambling
houses which the “Commission” licensed in order to secure larger
revenues. In the end, as one member of the sporting fraternity
phrased it, “there were not enough suckers to go ’round.” The whole
incident illustrates the principle, if the word can be used in such an
unhallowed connection, that in order to enjoy any permanent
success, corruption must by all means avoid extreme rapacity; it
must endeavour to keep alive that which it feeds on. Castro, for
example, was a highwayman rather than a grafter. He lacked the
moderation, the fine sense of proportion, necessary to qualify one for
success in the latter rôle. To paraphrase a familiar principle of
taxation, a part of income may be taken but corrupt encroachments
on capital sums are dangerous.
Prudential considerations restraining corruption are apt to be much
more keenly felt by a thoroughly organised machine than in cases
where corruption is practised by disorganised groups and individuals
each seeking its or his own advantage regardless of any common
interest. The “cohesive power of public plunder,” as President
Cleveland ponderously phrased it, may thus come to operate as a
moderating force. Notoriously corrupt city governments have not
infrequently distinguished themselves by maintaining extremely low
tax rates, or at least rates which appear to be low. Largely on this
basis a quasi-philosophic defence of corrupt municipal rule was
made several years ago by Daniel G. Thompson.[38] Arguing that