A Semantic Metalanguage For The Descript

Journal of Pragmatics 10 (1986) 67-107 67
North-Holland
A SEMANTIC METALANGUAGE FOR THE DESCRIPTION

AND COMPARISON OF ILLOCUTIONARY MEANINGS
Anna WIERZBICKA*
In this paper, the author argues that the illocutionary force of an utterance constitutes an integral
part of its meaning. She proposes a unified descriptive framework which makes it possible to
integrate illocutionary analysis with the syntax and semantics in the narrower sense of these terms.
A wide range of constructions are examined and their illocutionary force is fully spelled out. The
analysis takes the form of decomposition of illocutionary forces into their components, which are
formulated in a kind of simplified natural language based on a postulated system of universal
semantic primitives. It is argued that decomposition of illocutionary forces offers a safe path
between the Scylla of the orthodox performative hypothesis and the Charybdis of the ‘autonomous
grammar’ approaches to speech acts which once again try to divorce the study of language
structure from the study of language use.
1. Introduction
In the course of the last decade or so, the view that the illocutionary force of
an utterance is a part of its semantic structure has become a target of
increasingly frequent and increasingly vigorous attacks (cf. e.g. Bach and
Harnish (1982), Leech (1983)). The attackers point out that most utterances
can’t be identified, unambiguously, as instances of a particular speech act. For
example, Come here! can be an order but it can also be a request; This gun is
loaded can be a warning, but it can also be a statement of fact - or a threat.
How are y ou can be a question but it can also be a greeting. And so on.’
* Author’s address: A. Wierzbicka, Dept. of Linguistics, Australian National University, G.P.O.

Box 4, Canberra, ACT 2601, Australia.
r The idea that in speaking people perform a variety of different kinds of acts and that the
semantic and/or syntactic structure of an utterance may depend on the kind of act being performed,
is very old. It goes back at least as far as the Stoics (cf. Nuchelmans (1973)). In modern times, too,
similar ideas have been put forward by a number of different thinkers-notably by Charles Bally in
1932, by Josef Schlchter in 1935, by Ludwig Wittgenstein in 1953 or by Mixail Baxtin in 1952-
1953. But it was of course J.L. Austin (1965) through whose work it was introduced into modern
linguistic theory. Unfortunately limitations of space preclude any historical discussion in the
present context.
0378%2166/86/$3.50 0 1986, Elsevier Science Publishers B.V. (North-Holland)

68 A. Wierzbicka / Metalanguage for illocutionary meanings
The so-called performative analysis forces the analyst to reconstruct in each

case one explicit performative verb, but in fact - it is claimed - most utterances
are indeterminate. In other words, when we hear people speak, we may
understand perfectly well what they are saying but we usually don’t know what
exactly they are doing: warning? threatening? boasting? suggesting? promi-
sing? We can of course make guesses as to the speaker’s illocutionary inten-
tions, but we can never be sure if these guesses are correct. Sometimes the
situation and the context can make it rather clear what the speaker is doing
(e.g. that he is threatening rather than warning), but even then our interpreta-
tion is guided by pragmatic considerations rather than by linguistic clues.
And what applies to ordinary speakers and listeners applies also to linguists.
As linguists - so the argument goes - we cannot identify the illocutionary force
of an utterance. Consequently, illocutionary forces are a concern of conversa-
tional analysis, but not of syntax or semantics. For example, a linguist qua
linguist cannot distinguish between expressions such as Go to London! and
expressions such as Go to hell!.
I disagree with this view, and I believe that it misrepresents the nature of
human communication. I believe that when we listen to other people we
usually do know what they are doing, and we know it due to unmistakable
linguistic clues, not just to conversational implicatures (cf. Grice (1975)) or
vague ‘conventions of usage’ (cf. Morgan (1978)). No doubt the intonation
plays an important role in this respect (see section 23, but even if we leave the
intonation aside we still must recognize the presence of innumerable linguistic
indicators of illocutionary force. These indicators are largely language-specific
and thus cannot be accounted for in terms of any general principles of human
communication (cf. Wierzbicka (1985)). General ‘rules of conversation’ play a
part, too, but a much more limited one than it has become fashionable to
assume. What is indeed unsuccessful and ineffective is the models in terms of
which linguists have tried to analyse illocutionary forces. The solution is to
abandon those inadequate models, and to replace them with better ones, rather
than to wash one’s hands of any illocutionary analysis, and to throw it out of
syntax and semantics altogether.
This is, then, the main thesis of this paper: the supposed indeterminacy of
illocutionary forces is largely an artefact of inadequate syntactic and semantic
analyses.
2. Illocutionary forces as bundles of components
Consider again a sentence such as:
Come here!
If we analyze it as ‘I order you to come here’ then we are indeed overspecifying

its illocutionary force. The speaker may have been ‘asking’ rather than
A. Wierzbicka / Metalanguage for illocutionary meanings 69
‘ordering’, or s/he may have been simply ‘telling’ the addressee what to do.
Spelling out the illocutionary force as ‘I order you’ rather than as ‘I ask you’
or ‘I tell you’, the linguist is acting in an arbitrary and, one might say,
irresponsible fashion.
Thus, when Leech (1983 : 175) claims that illocutionary force “is more subtle
than can be easily accommodated by our everyday vocabulary of speech act
verbs” and that it cannot “be adequately captured by reference to such
categories as offers, suggestions, and statements” (ibid.: 156), one can only
agree with him.
In my view, however, it doesn’t follow from this that illocutionary force is
‘indeterminate’ or that “it must be studied in part in non-categorical, scalar
terms” (1983: 175).
We can’t tell if an imperative utterance such as Come here! stands for an
order, or a request, or a command, but we can tell that it conveys the idea
which can be spelled out as ‘I say: I want you to come here’. The point is that
orders, commands, and requests have something in common (and of course
this is why they can all be enacted by means of the same grammatical category:
the imperative). We don’t have to say that Come here! is an order (which
would be arbitrary), or that it is ambiguous between an order, a command and
a request. Instead, we can extract the semantic common denominator of these
different interpretations. This can be done precisely by means of the formula ‘I
say: I want you to do it’. Contextual or suprasegmental clues may provide
additional information, but the core is signalled by the construction itself.
The illocutionary force of the utterance in question is quite ‘determinate’,
but it can only be captured in a framework which operates with sufficiently
fine-grained components.
What applies to the alleged ‘indeterminacy’ of illocutionary forces applies
also to their alleged ‘scalar variability’: both are artefacts of an inadequate
analytical framework. Consider, for example, the following statement (Leech
(1983 : 175)): “the difference between ‘ordering’ and ‘requesting’ is partly a
matter of the scale of optionality (how much choice is given to h), and the
difference between ‘requesting’ and ‘offering’ is a matter of the cost-benefit
scale (how far is A to the cost/benefit of s/h)” (h stands for hearer, and s for
speaker, A for act, AW).
But clearly, the difference between ‘order’ and ‘request’ or between ‘request’
and ‘offer’ can be represented by means of discrete illocutionary components.
There is no need to invoke any ‘scalar variability’. An order includes a
component which can be stated as follows: ‘I assume that you have to do what
I say I want you to do’; a request includes the component ‘I assume that you
don’t have to do what I say I want you to do’; an offer includes the
component ‘I think of it as something that you would want’ (for a detailed
discussion of these and some two hundred other speech acts, see Wierzbicka
(forthcoming)). Discussing ‘whimperatives’ such as:
70 A. Wierzbicka 1 Metalanguage for illocutionary meanings
Could you be quiet!
Bach and Harnish (1982) consider two possible analyses: (1) the sentence is
ambiguous between a question and a request (Sadock (1970)), and (2) the
sentence is both a question and a request (Searle (1975)). They conclude that
“the data suggest that whimperatives pattern in part like questions, in requi-
ring verbal responses, and in part like imperatives, in requiring action for
compliance. The conventionality thesis [i.e. Searle’s analysis, AW], which has
them being both, is better able to accommodate such facts than the ambiguity
thesis [i.e. Sadock’s thesis, AW] is” (1982: 186).
In other words, the choice is this: should mules be regarded as being
sometimes horses and sometimes donkeys or as being always both horses and
donkeys?
Not surprisingly, both analyses run into insuperable difficulties. As a result,
Bach and Harnish feel forced to abandon them both and to propose a third
one. What is it? That mules are always . . . horses! (i.e. that whimperatives are
always questions!) But since the obstinate mules don’t want to behave like
horses and, for example, since they take a pre-verbal (clause-internal) please,
which questions generally don’t do:
Could you please be quiet?

*How old please are you?
they therefore get condemned as ‘bad horses’, malformed horses, misbehaving

horses; and whimperatives, such as, I repeat:
Could you please be quiet!
get condemned as ungrammatical!

What I propose is this: mules are not sometimes horses and sometimes
donkeys; and they are not both horses and donkeys; they are neither horses
nor donkeys; they are mules. Being mules, they are similar to both horses and
donkeys. In describing mules we must show in what respects they are similar to
horses and in what respects they are similar to donkeys.
In what follows, I will discuss a number of syntactic constructions which
encapsulate specific illocutionary forces, trying to demonstrate that although
these forces can’t be stated by means of single speech act verbs, they can be
stated with full precision by means of bundles of components (cf. Wierzbicka
(1972, 1977, 1980)).
I would add that by proposing a mode of analysis which requires decompo-
sition of illocutionary forces into illocutionary components I am not proposing
that the apparatus of linguistic description should be further complicated or
added to. On the contrary. Decomposition of speech acts into illocutionary
components is a necessary part of linguistics already - if lexicography has

anything to do with linguistics at all. To state the meaning of verbs such as
order, request, warn, threaten or offer, we have to isolate their semantic
components anyway. I suggest the following mode of analysis (for justification
and discussion see Wierzbicka (1972, 1977, 1980, in press, forthcoming))?
I order you to do X =
I assume that you have to do what I say I want you to do
I say: I want you to do X
I say this because I want to cause you to do it
I assume that you will do it
I ask you to do X =
I assume that you don’t have to do what I say I want you to do
I say: I want you to do something that would be good for me (x)
I say this because I want to cause you to do it
I don’t know if you will do it
I suggest that you do X =
I say: I think it may be good if you do X
I say this because I want to cause you to think about it and to do X if you
think that you would want to do it.
I don’t know if you would want to do it
Z To compare meanings one has to be able to state them. To state what the meaning of an
expression or a construction is one needs a semantic metalanguage. In accordance with the general
program which I have been pursuing for more than a decade (see in particular Wierzbicka (1972,
1980) I will try to state the meaning of constructions and expressions under consideration in terms
of simple and intuitively understandable sentences in natural language. This, I believe, will ensure
that the proposed semantic representations will be verifiable and intuitively revealing.
But the part of natural language in which the explications are formulated is highly restricted,
standardized, and to a large degree language independent (i.e. isomorphic to equivalent parts of
other natural languages). For this reason, the natural language used in the explications can be
viewed as a formal semantic metalanguage. If speech acts performed in different languages can be
compared at all, it is precisely because, I believe, all sentences in all languages can be translated into
a universal language of semantic primitives. To put it less strongly: speech acts performed in
different languages are comparable to the extent to which the constructions and expressions that
embody them can be translated into a universal language of semantic primitives.
The level of analysis aimed at here is not the deepest one possible, and the units used in the
explications are not what I believe to be semantic primitives: to go deeper is neither necessary nor
desirable for present purposes. In particular, use is made repeatedly of the expressions do, happen,
feel, good, bad and a few similar ones, which while reasonably simple semantically are nonetheless
far from elementary. The purpose in aiming at this level of analysis (deep, but not the deepest) is to
keep the semantic representations readable and easily comprehensible. For the details of the
proposed framework, see Wierzbicka (1980).
12 A. W ierzbicka / M etalanguage for illocutionary meanings
To decompose the verb threaten into its semantic components is the same thing
as to analyze the illocutionary force of the speech act ‘threat‘ (pace Searle
(1979)). There would seem to be little point, therefore, in assuring ourselves
that we as linguists don’t have to engage in an analysis of illocutionary forces
because somebody else (a conversational analyst) will do it for us. We have to
do it, as long as lexical semantics is a part of linguistics. And if decomposition
of illocutionary forces into components solves at the same time the insuperable
syntactic and semantic difficulties that the ‘performative hypothesis’ ran into,
this is a sheer bonus.
3. Syntax and illocutionary force
Consider utterances such as these (Schreiber (1972: 331)?, Levinson

(1983: 256), Davison (1975: 163))?:
Frankly, I lied.
John’s at Sue’s house, because his car’s outside.
Proponents of the performative hypothesis have often tried to account for the
syntax of such sentences by claiming that the adverb frankly and the because-
clause modify the underlying performative verb tell. However, as Levinson
(1983: 255-257) points out:
“(. .) there are significant semantic difficulties here (. .) it is simply not clear that the meanings of
the relevant adverbs are indeed parallel in the explicit performative, the (allegedly) implicit
performative and the reported performative usages [Levinson’s numbers, AW]:
(50) I tell you frankly you’re a swine.

(51) Frankly, you’re a swine.
(52) John told Bill frankly that he was a swine”.
In prefacing one’s sentence with frankly , as in (51) the speaker is not

commenting on her own comment while delivering it, as (50) would suggest.
Rather, she is saying two things, first preparing the addressee for what is to
follow:
I now want to say something frankly.

I say: you’re a swine.
As for sentences with a because clause,
“(. .) it is clear that the because-clause here does not in fact modify any implicit I state or Z claim,
but rather an understood I know, as made explicit in (59):
A. Wierzbicka / Metalanguage for illocutionary meanings
(58) I state John’s at Sue’s house because his car’s outside.

(59) I know John’s at Sue’s house because his car’s outside.”
(Noticing John’s car outside the speaker infers, in her own mind, that John is
at Sue’s house. Her stating that John is at Sue’s house follows this inference,
and may be due to a number of causes. The direct causal links hold between
noticing that A and saying that B.)
Perhaps the clearest evidence of the inability of the performative hypothesis
to deal with the kind of data it was originally meant to account for, comes
from metalinguistic comments such as to sum up, to change the subject or to cut
a long story short. As Mittwoch (1977: 183) points out, “it would be counter-
intuitive to derive (23b) [i.e. to change the subject, AW] from: I tell you this in
order to change the subject.” One says to change the subject to alert the
addressee that a new topic is being introduced; but what one says about this
new topic may be said in order to inform the addressee, to express a sudden
thought, and so on, not necessarily in order to change the subject.
I quite agree with Levinson, Mittwoch and others, that the attempts to
explain the interaction between syntax and illocutionary force on the basis of
the performative hypothesis were unsuccessful. But the alternative account,
proposed by the opponents of this hypothesis such as Leech (1983) or Bach
and Harnish (1982), is hardly more convincing. What this alternative account
suggests is, to my mind, quite incredible: that all sentences which signal overtly
some aspect of their illocutionary force, and which can’t, therefore, be explai-
ned in terms of ‘autonomous’ (non-illocutionary) syntax, are simply ungram-
matical! They are of course perfectly acceptable, and they are used all the time,
but since our favourite grammatical theories can’t generate them, they are
ungrammatical. Because “usability is not grammaticality, and acquiring a use
does not turn the ill-formed into the well-formed” (Bach and Harnish
(1982: 225)). In other words, if there is a conflict between grammatical theory
and plain facts - then too bad for the facts!
Among facts thus condemned by the grammatical theory are all the ‘whim-
peratives’, all the ‘queclaratives’, all sentences with so-called ‘style disjuncts’: in
fact, it seems, the bulk of conversational English. Thus it is ‘ungrammatical’ to
say any of the following utterances (Leech (1983: 193-194) Bach and Harnish
(1982: 225, 233)):
Can you please close the window?

Frankly, you bore me.
Who gives a damn about that?
Why don’t you be quiet!
No smoking.
Two coffees, please.
Shut the window, can’t you?
As Leech (1983: 195) puts it, “such sentences do not lend themselves to
generalization in any kind of grammatical framework, being essentially excep-
tions to general rules”.
For my part, I would like to ask: what is so sacrosanct about those ‘general
rules’? If they don’t fit the facts shouldn’t we reexamine the ‘rules’ rather than
to condemn the facts?
But in fact it is not true that the facts (of the relevant kind) can’t be
accommodated in any kind of grammatical framework. They can be accommo-
dated in a framework which derives surface structures from semantic structures
couched in terms of illocutionary components. For example, while it is true
that sentences with the illocutionary adjunct frankly can’t be plausibly derived
from ‘I tell you frankly’, they can be plausibly derived from the following
structure:
I now want to say something frankly

I say: X
An infinitive clause such as to change the subject can’t be plausibly derived

from ‘I tell you this in order to change the subject’, but it can be plausibly
derived from a structure where it will modify one of the illocutionary compo-
nents : ‘I say this because . ..‘. ‘I know this because...‘, ‘I assume this
because.. .‘. ‘I think this because...‘, and so on.
Generally speaking, the main mechanism which operates in deriving surface
structures from semantic structures is that of deletion, A ‘whimperative’
sentence, which combines in its surface structure imperative and interrogative
features, must be derived from an underlying structure which contains, among
others, components such as ‘I want you to do something’, and ‘I want you to
say something’. But the full meaning of a particular illocutionary form (e.g. the
full meaning of why don’t you do X? or of how about X?, or of why do X?) is
very complex, and it is language-specific. The view that a sentence in a frame
such as why don’t you is ungrammatical, and that its force can be guessed on
the basis of “the general principles of rational, purposive human behaviour”
(Leech (1983: 195)), is singularly unhelpful, and indeed perverse - especially
from the point of view of a second language learner in whose native language a
literal equivalent of this frame can’t be used with anything like the force that it
has in English (cf. Wierzbicka (1985)). A migrant learning English might guess
that an utterance in the frame why don’t you will have an interrogative
component in its meaning, but s/he can’t possibly guess its full meaning. This
full meaning has to be stated for him/her. It is surely part of the work of the
linguist who wants to describe English to say what this meaning is.
4. Why don’t you do X (tomorrow)?
A sentence such as:
Why don’t you play tennis any more?
can be a straightforward question. If, however, a sentence in the frame why

don’t you refers to a specific (non-habitual) action and has a future time
reference, as in:
Why don’t you go and see a doctor tomorrow?
then the sentence cannot be simply a question: it must convey the assumption
that it would be a good thing for the addressee to do the thing under
discussion.3 In a particular context, it is often fairly clear that a sentence in the
why don’t you frame is in fact meant as an invitation, or as an offer, or as a
suggestion, or a request, for example:
Why don’t you come and have dinner with us tonight. (invitation)
Why don’t you try some of this shortbread - I baked it myself. (offer)
Why don’t you go to see Dr Brown - he might be able to help. (suggestion)
Why don’t you be quiet! (request and criticism)
But even in such relatively clear cases, a measure of ‘indeterminacy’ remains.

For example, the invitation and the offer cited above could also be reported
with the verb suggest rather than with invite and offer. It is important to
realize, however, that this ‘indeterminacy’ is a function of the descriptive
framework which forces the analyst to choose between invite, offer, suggest and
request. Utterances in the frame why dont’t you do X can be reported in a
number of different ways because English has a number of illocutionary verbs
which are compatible with the illocutionary force encoded in the construction.
In choosing a particular verb (request, suggest, or whatever) the reporter
imposes a certain interpretation on the original utterance, and s/he can choose
one of a number of interpretations compatible with the force signalled by why
don’t you. In doing so, s/he adds to what is encoded in the construction itself.
This is, then, where the ‘indeterminacy’ lies: in the range of possible interpreta-
tions, which can be signalled by a range of reporting verbs. But the force of
why don’t you is quite determinate. It can be stated as follows (to facilitate a
3 Green (1975: 127) has pointed out that the sentence: Why don’t you be quiet? is an unambiguous
‘whimperative’, whereas the sentence: Why aren’t you quiet? is an unambiguous question. I think
that this observation can be generalized: not just be, which differs from the present tense form are,
but any infinitive combined with why don’t you will be interpreted as a ‘whimperative’, provided
that the sentence has a specific time reference.
detailed comparison between this and one or two closely related constructions
I have labelled the components):
(a) I say: I want you to say, if you can, why you/we shouldn’t do X
(b) I assume that you can’t (say it)
(c) I think that it would be a good thing if it happened
(d) I would want it to happen if you wanted it to happen
(e) I say this because I want to cause it to happen if you think it would be a
good thing
The surface form why don’t you (we) do X? represents an extract from the
semantic formula. Since it is the task of linguistics to pair surface structures
with meanings encoded in them it is plainly the task of the linguist to spell out
the meaning of a frame such as why don’t you ~ and, I believe, this task can be
carried out in the way indicated above.
The formula postulated here can be validated in terms of meaning, in terms
of form, and in terms of use. The meaning can be verified intuitively (since the
metalanguage used in the formula is derived from natural language). The form
can be explained as derived by mere deletions4 from the underlying structure;
and various aspects of use can be accounted for in terms of individual
components either present or absent in the postulated semantic structure. For
example, the fact that the frame in question can’t take a pre-verbal please can
be explained by the absence from the underlying structure of the component ‘I
want you to do it’, which would be posited for ‘whimperatives’ such as could
you do X but not for ‘impositives’ such as why don’t you do X (for further
discussion of the formula proposed here see sections 5, 6 and 7):
Could you please be quiet.

*Why don’t you please be quiet.
5. Why do X?
Consider sentences such as the celebrated:
Why paint your house purple?
(cf. Gordon and Lakoff (1975)). The long controversy whether a sentence of
this kind is a question or a criticism seems to me rather futile. In fact, a
4 To say that the rules linking semantic representations to surface forms are ‘mere deletions’
doesn’t mean, needless to say, that they don’t have to be described, and accounted for in terms of
more or less general principles. Unfortunately, limitations of space preclude any discussion of the
correspondence between meaning and form in the present paper.
A. Wierzbicka / Metalanguage for iiiocutionary meanings 77
sentence of this kind partakes of the nature of both question and criticism, and
its illocutionary structure simply can’t be captured accurately in terms of
global categories such a ask and criticise. What is needed is more line-grained
components, such as:
I say: I want you to say, if you can, why you/we should do X

I assume that you can’t (say it)
I think that it is not a good thing to do
I say this because I want to say what 1 think
I maintain that the syntactic construction why do X? always carries these

components with it, not only in those sentences where the content supports this
interpretation but also in those where it doesn’t; e.g. the sentence:
Why paint your house white?
implies exactly the same attitude as the sentence with the word purple in lieu of
white. This means that the construction as such provides unambiguous gram-
matical clues to the illocutionary force. But this force cannot be stated as
simply ‘I ask’ or ‘I criticise’, or even as ‘I ask and I criticise’ (a la Sadock
(1974)). It can only be stated in terms of a set of illocutionary components.
It is worth adding that the construction in question has a more or less
symmetrical counterpart of the form why not do X, as in the following
example:
Why not have him come here?
The illocutionary force of this twin-construction differs from that of why do X

in terms of evaluation and also in terms of illocutionary purpose. Why do X?
implies that X is not a good thing to do; why not do X, on the other hand,
implies that X is a good thing to do. The former is a kind of tentative criticism,
the latter, a kind of tentative suggestion. The former can refer to faits
accomplis, but the latter has a future orientation. For example, if a house has
already been painted and cannot be repainted, one can still say:
Why paint the house purple?

But if one says:
Why not paint it purple?
one is implying that it is not too late to carry out the ‘good idea’ in question.
78 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
A. Wierzbicka 1 Metalanguage for illocutionary meanings
I submit that the illocutionary force of the frame &zy not do X can be
represented as .follows: 5
(a) I say: I want you to say, if you can, why you/we shouldn’t do X
(b) I assume that you can’t (say it)
(c) I think that it would be a good thing if it happened
(d) I say this because I want you to think about it and to say if you want it to
happen
Comparing the explications for the frame why don’t you do X and why not do
X one will see that they share a number of components, and that they are both
compatible with the meaning encoded in the verb suggest. One will also see
that they differ in ways which make the former, but not the latter frame,
compatible with the meaning of request. Thus, the first three components of
this formula (a-c) are the same as those posited for the frame why don’t you.
But the component (d) postulated for why don’t you (‘I would want it to
happen if you wanted it to happen’) has been omitted from the explication of
why not do X, to show that this $me the speaker presents him/herself as totally
disinterested. The illocutionary purpose of each of the two constructions is also
different: in the case of why don’t yousentences the speaker is attempting to
cause the action to happen (on condition that the addressee is in favour); but
in the case of why not do Xsentences the speaker is merely trying to cause the
addressee to make up his/her mind.
6. How about X?
How about sentences are usually used for making suggestions, offers or
invitations (but not for requests, orders or instructions):
How about a drink?

How about a movie?
How about dinner at my place?
How about at my place?
How about going to Sydney?
One can’t claim, however, that sentences of this kind can be represented as
derived from or equivalent to ‘I suggest (that we see) a movie’, ‘I offer you a
5 Searle (1975: 69) insists that a sentence in the frame why not do x? can be a straightforward
question “without necessarily being also a suggestion”. As I see it, it is true that sentences of this
kind don’t have to be suggestions, but it is not true that they can be straightforward questions,
because they will always contain some component such as ‘I think that it would be a good thing to
do x’.
A. W ierzbicka / M etalanguage for illocutionary meanings 79
drink’ or ‘I invite you to dinner’, because it would involve a great deal of

arbitrariness to decide which performative verb to use in each case. And to
suggest that all how about sentences are multiply ambiguous (not simply
ambiguous but multiply ambiguous) is almost tantamount to admitting their
indeterminacy.
But if one admits this then one is left with an analysis devoid of explanatory
power; because if how about sentences are either multiply ambiguous or
indeterminate then why is their range of possible illocutionary forces so
strangely limited? Why can’t they be used, for example, for requesting,
ordering, begging, or giving permission?
The ‘mystery’ is easily solved, however. If how about sentences can be used
for suggesting, offering or inviting, but not for requesting, ordering or begging,
it is because the former three acts are compatible with the components encoded
in English by the how about construction. The components in question can be
spelled out as follows:
(a) I say: I want to know ‘how you would feel about doing X’
(b) I think you might want to do it
(c) I don’t know if you would want to do it
(d) I would want it to happen if you wanted it to happen
(e) I say this because I want to cause you to think about it and to say if you
would want to do it
The action is presented as potentially desirable, but the speaker is not as

confident on this point as in the case of why don’t you-sentences. Furthermore,
the speaker doesn’t advocate the action as desirable from his/her own point of
view; rather, s/he invites the addressee to form and express a view. The speaker
is not saying, therefore, ‘I think it would be a good thing if it happened’;
rather, s/he is saying ‘I think you might want to do it’. There is no assumption,
therefore, that the action should be carried out. Nonetheless, the speaker does
indicate a personal interest in the action, but as in the case of why don’t you-
sentences, this personal interest is expressed in a conditional form (‘I would
want it to happen if you wanted it to happen’).
A how about-sentence is more ‘open-minded’, therefore, than a why don’t
you-sentence. The speaker wants to hear if the addressee wants to carry out
what has been proposed as potentially desirable, but s/he is not pressing him in
any way.
In a subtle and illuminating discussion of how about sentences in English,
Shopen (1974: 294) argues that the pattern in question “should be viewed as
having status in the grammar in its own right”. I would entirely agree with this
claim, in view of the unique illocutionary force signalled by this pattern. I
could not fully agree, however, with the concomitant claim that “there is no
non-elliptical source (. . .) from which this pattern could be derived that has the
same semantic properties”.
80 A. W ierzbicka 1 M etalanguage for illocutionary meanings
An explication of the kind proposed above can be regarded as just such a

‘non-elliptical source’ - at least in the sense that it constitutes a non-elliptical
paraphrase (or ‘paralocution’; cf. Boguslawski (1981)) which spells out the
unique illocutionary force of the how about-pattern. To say this is not to deny
that the expression how about can also be used in ‘pure questions’. But as
Shopen rightly recognized, apart from its use in pure questions it can also be
used with an illocutionary force different from that of questions. I suggest that
this illocutionary force can be fully spelled out in a non-elliptical formula
which takes the form of a unique series of illocutionary components (unique,
and yet sufficiently overlapping the formula for ‘pure questions’ as to account
for the formal link between them).
7. Additional remarks on the methodology of semantic explication
Several formulae explicating illocutionary forces have been introduced so far

and many more are going to follow. It may be useful if a few additional
comments on the methodology of semantic explications are added at this stage,
for the reader may still feel puzzled: how does one know what components
should be posited for a given construction? and how does one prove that the
components proposed have not been arbitrarily chosen?
I reply that one proceeds, essentially, by trial and error. The goal is this: to
propose for each construction a minimal set of components which will jointly
account for all the aspects of its use. As a research strategy, a contrastive
approach is most fruitful: if one tries to model several closely related construc-
tions at the same time, trying to capture both the similarities and the
differences between them, one has the best chance of providing the most
accurate ‘portrait’ of each illocutionary force. However, the ultimate goal
consists in explicating, as fully and accurately as possible, each illocutionary
force in its own right - not in providing some sort of differential schema for
the whole lot. Above all, one must resist the temptation of imposing some
‘system’ on the empirical reality of illocutionary forces, which can be as
capricious, idiosyncratic and asymmetric as any other semantic structures. To
be sure, a great deal of symmetry and order is also likely to be discovered, but
the exact proportion of symmetry and asymmetry, of ‘system’ and idiosyncrasy
has to be revealed through empirical research, not to be decided about on a
priori basis.
For example, if we decide to posit the component ‘I think you might want to
do it’ for the frame how about (how about a beer, how about a movie, and so on)
but not to posit it for the frame why don’t you (why don’t you shut up), it would
be a grave error to posit for the latter frame a negative component ‘I don’t
think you might want to do it’, or ‘I don’t say that I think that you might want
to do it’ (there is a crucial difference between the absence of a component and
the presence of its opposite).
Semantic explications are difficult to justify fully (within the space provided
by most linguistic journals), because ultimately, the only way to justify them is
by refuting alternative formulations. Each explication proposed in the present
paper has gone through a number of versions, and in each case dozens of
competitors have been considered and discarded. This is of course no guaran-
tee of perfection. But it would be an illusion to imagine that there is (or could
be) some simple, mechanical procedure for evaluating semantic explications.
The only way to challenge them is to engage in the laborious process of
devising competing analyses ~ and of defending them, point by point, against
attempts at refutation.
8. Tell you what, X!
Acts similar to suggestions can also be signalled in English by means of the

frame tell you what, as in the following example.
Tell you what, why don’t you stay the weekend. (GP)*
An utterance in this frame could be reported with the verb suggest (‘he
suggested that she stay the weekend’), just as why don’t you-utterances and how
about-utterances can. In fact, in the example given above tell you what and why
don’t you are used jointly.
But tell you what indicates that the idea has just occurred to the speaker,
whereas how about or why don’t you could voice an idea which the speaker has
been nurturing for a long time.
Furthermore, tell you what implies that the sudden idea which has just
occurred to the speaker will constitute a solution to a problem of current
relevance. The word what seems to echo a question which has been occupying
the interlocutors’ minds (what should we do?).6 It offers an answer to that
implicit question: (Z) (will) tell you what Z think (we should do). No such
implications are included in the formally similar expression Z (will) tell you
something.
I think the following formula can be proposed for the frame tell you what
(for a different analysis, see Fillmore (1984)):
I think I know what we should do

I want to cause you to know it
* Source abbreviations are explained at the end of the article (Editors’ note).
6 The reference to the first person should of course be interpreted broadly. As pointed out by Tim
Shopen, one could say, for example: Tell you what, she could fry audiring a course. But even here,
the implication seems to be that the speaker and the addressee are somehow responsible for the
person in question.
I say: I think X would be a good thing to do

I say this because I want us to do it if you think it is a good thing
I assume you understand that I didn’t think of it before now
9. Do you know, X...?
Do you know, he has started a new poem? (NI)
Do you know-sentences are related to tell you what-sentences, in so far as

both types signal ‘news’, and moreover, news that the addressee can be
expected to be interested in. In the case of tell you what sentences, the ‘news’ is
directly relevant to the addressee, because the speaker has a ‘good idea’
concerning the addressee or someone close to the addressee (‘it would be good
if you did X’). No such direct relevance is implied by do you know. What is
implied by the latter frame is simply interest: ‘I think you will be interested to
hear this’. The full semantic formula would read:
I say: I want to say something to you (x)

I think you wouldn’t have expected that
I say it because I think you will be interested to come to know it
I want you to say something because of that
An interesting formal feature of do you know-sentences used in this sense is

that they don’t allow an explicit complementizer: do you know THAT X
indicates that the addressee may already know the news.
Do you know, I had a dream about you last night.

?Do you know that I had a dream about you last night.
Sentences in the frame do you know that may also introduce interesting and
unexpected news, but they have to have an ‘ignorative’ component (see
Wierzbicka (1980)) :
Do you know that X?!

‘I don’t know if you know it’.
The contrast in illocutionary force between do you know (*that) . . . and do

you know that . ..? can be illustrated with the following pair of examples:
(1) Do you know, for years I used to dream that he’d caught us in bed
together? You and me. Even after we were married. (GP)
(2) ‘It’s absolutely disgusting!’
‘Do you know, Denise’, Gavin said, ‘that the foolish folk of Staunton
might well, and in a deeply depressing majority, find it more disgusting
that your delightful nipples are visible through your charming jersey’.
(GP)
What holds for the frame do you know that holds also, mutatis mutandis, for
the frame did you know that. A sentence such as:
Did you know that the Spanish anarchists once passed a resolution saying that
any woman who excited a man’s desire had a moral obligation to satisfy
it? (GP)
could be meant as a piece of news, rather than as a genuine question, but it

would still have an ‘ignorative’ component ‘I don’t know if you know it’. But
the same sentence introduced by the frame do you know, (*that) would imply
that the speaker assumes that the addressee doesn’t know. And a piece of news
which couldn’t possibly be known to the addressee would have to be introdu-
ced by do you know (*that), not by did you know that:
*Did you know that I had a dream about you last night?
10. Don’t tell me X!
Eleanor: (angrily) Michael! Don’t tell me you’re becoming jealous of John

again! (W)
Unexpected news can also be indicated by the frame don’t tell me. This time,
however, what is said is new to the speaker, not to the addressee. This means
that the speaker discovers something new and unexpected, and voices this
discovery, with disbelief and disapproval. Usually, the discovery concerns the
addressee, and is based on something that the addressee has said (as in the
example above), but it doesn’t have to be so. For example, catching a glimpse
of a female acquaintance one might exclaim to somebody else:
Don’t tell me she is pregnant again!
Similarly, having planned an excursion and having made no provision for bad
weather one could exclaim:
(Oh no!) Don’t tell me it is raining!

But one would have to be a masochist, as well as a pessimist, to be able to

exclaim :
Don’t tell me the weather is fine!
To spell out this illocutionary force, I propose the formula:
I say: I think I have to think X, because of what I perceive

I wouldn’t have expected that
I assume one has to say that this is a bad thing
I feel something bad because of that
I want you to say something that would cause me to know if this is true
I don’t want you to tell me that it is true
I say this because I want to say what I think
The discovery, the disbelief, the negative evaluation and the negative feeling
link the expression don’t tell me X with the exclamation ah, my God (see below,
section 20). But don’t tell me - unlike ah, my God - leaves some room for
doubt, and it includes an appeal to the addressee. ‘I want you to say something
that would cause me to know if this is true’.
11. How many times have I told you (not) to do W!
Even stronger disapproval than that embodied in don’t tell me is of course

signalled by expressions of direct rebuke (reproach, reprimand, etc.) such as
how many times have Z told you (not) to do X. In this case, the disapproval has
to be directed at the addressee (rather than at a third person), and it is
accompanied by an attempt to make the addressee feel bad, because of what he
or she has done. The full illocutionary force can be spelled out as follows:
I see that you have done X

I assume you know that you shouldn’t do it because I have told you many
times
I say: I want you to say how many times it was, if you can
I assume you can’t, because it was too many times to count
I feel something bad because of it
I say this because I want to cause you to feel bad because of what you’ve done
The expression ‘I feel something bad’, included in this explication and in

many others, sounds no doubt somewhat ‘naive’ and unidiomatic, but if we
specified the ‘bad feeling’ in question as displeasure, annoyance, irritation,
anger or anything else, we would be acting arbitrarily. And to say that the
A. W ierzbicka / M etalanguage for iliocutionary meanings 85
component in question is ‘indeterminate’ (between annoyance, anger, etc.)

would be just as unjustified as to say that how many times have I told you as a
whole is indeterminate between rebuke, reproach, reprimand, scolding and
whatever.
12. Who’s talking about (of) doing X!
Who is talking about getting married? You talk as if marriage was the only
alternative. Don’t you ever listen? (GP)
This is another construction expressing the speaker’s displeasure with the

addressee. In this case, the displeasure (or, more generally, ‘bad feeling’) must
be caused by something that the addressee has just said, and the nature of the
offense is quite specific (although it is not specified on the surface of the
sentence): the addressee has attributed to the speaker an intention which in fact
the speaker doesn’t have.
The expression Who’s talking of doing X! is used as a kind of angry
disclaimer, protesting the addressee’s mistaken assumption. The full illocutio-
nary force can be spelled out as follows:
I see that you think, because of what I say, that I want to do X

I say: I don’t know who is talking of doing X
I say this because I want to cause you to stop thinking that I want to do it
13. Tag questions with declarative sentences
To take another set of examples, I will turn now to a number of different tag
question constructions. First, let us consider declarative sentences with an
opposite polarity tag such as:
Maria is Italian, isn’t she?
The illocutionary structure of this sentence can be spelled out as follows:
I think that X
I don’t want to say that I know that this is right
I want you to say that it is right or that it isn’t right
I assume you will say that it is right
If the declarative sentence is concerned with an opinion rather than with a

factual matter the illocutionary force contains one more component:
M aria is nice, isn’t she?

I think that X
I assume that you think the same
I don’t want to say that I know that this is right (that you think the same)
I want you to say that it is right or that it isn’t
I assume you will say that it is right
As for matching polarity tags, such as:
Sally is pregnant, is she!

You have bought a house, have you!
Cattell (1973) has shown that they usually echo the interlocutor’s earlier
utterance. For example, if John asks Harry about the meaning of a Russian
sentence and Harry supplies that meaning, John could echo Harry’s explana-
tion saying :
It means ‘necessity is the mother of invention’, does it?
He could not respond by saying:
It means ‘necessity is the mother of invention’, doesn’t it?
I would add, however, that matching polarity tags can also be used as an
interpretation, rather than as an echo of the interlocutor’s utterance, as in the
following two exchanges:
Hannah : I know, but couldn’t you just accept it as security for a few days’
stay here?
Maxine: You’re completely broke, are you? (NI)
Shannon: They can’t go back in toooowwwwn! - whew - (. ..) Are they
getting out of the bus?
Maxine: You’re going to pieces, are you! (NI)
One can account for both the echoing and the interpreting function of
matching polarity tags by means of the following formula:
I think that X, because of what you say

I am not sure if this is right
I assume it is right
I want you to say that it is right or that it isn’t
Thus, the speaker is not really checking whether she has heard correctly (often,
this would be impossible to doubt). Rather, she is checking that she is
A. Wierzbicka / Metalanguage for iliocutionary meanings 87
interpreting correctly what she has heard - or she is pretending, for whatever
reason, that she is checking it (to be sarcastic, to savour a piece of news, to
give herself a chance to reflect on what she has just heard, to encourage the
interlocutor to elaborate, and so on).
In fact, it seems that although matching polarity tags are typically used in
response to speech, they can also be used in response to something that one
can see looking at the addressee. To allow for this possibility, the first
component in the explication should perhaps be phrased as ‘I think that X,
because of what I perceive about you’, rather than ‘I think that X, because of
what you say’.
14. Tag questions with imperative sentences
Turning now to tag questions added to an imperative, I should like to point

out a wide range of illocutionary forces encoded in such structures; illocutio-
nary forces which are fully ‘determined’ and which, nonetheless, cannot be
expressed by means of simple performative verbs. Compare, for example, the
following three constructions:
(a) Sit down, will you?

(b) Sit down, won’t you?
(c) Sit down, can’t you?
In some circumstances, these three constructions may seem to be interchan-

geable, but the force of each is quite distinct. In fact, while it is easy to imagine
situations where either (a) and (b) or (a) and (c) are interchangeable, it is
difficult to do so with respect to (b) and (c).
Wishing to be very polite to a distinguished visitor, one would probably say
(b) rather than (a), and one would certainly avoid (c). (c) implies that the
addressee should have already performed the action, that it is a bad thing s/he
didn’t, and that the speaker feels some impatience or even irritation because of
that.
(b) and (a) are close to each other, but they differ in their implications
concerning the beneficiary. Won’t you implies that the action is seen as
something that the addressee can be expected to want to do, whereas will you
implies that it is seen as something wanted by the speaker. For example, (as
pointed out to me by Emmie O’Neail) if the addressee is pacing restlessly up
and down the room, getting on the speaker’s nerves, the speaker will be
expected to say sit down will you rather than sit down won’t you. Typically,
won’t you is used in situations when the action is seen as beneficial for the
addressee, not for the speaker. Since, however, won’t you can also be used in
utterances such as:
Give me a hand won’t you.

I have formulated the relevant components as ‘I think of it as something that

you would want to do’, rather than as ‘I think of it as something that would be
good for you’.
If the action is desirable from the speaker’s, not from the addressee’s point
of view, and if the speaker has no reason to suppose that the addressee will
want to comply, then won’t you would sound inappropriate. For example, if
the speaker is irritated by the addressee’s words, s/he is more likely to say (a)
than (b):
(a) Oh shut up will you (ya).

(b) Oh shut up won’t you (*ya).
In fact, in a context of this kind won’t you would sound sarcastic, and won’t ya
would be virtually unacceptable.
But will you, unlike can’t you, doesn’t always imply negative feelings. It is
often used simply to convey a request. Won’t you, on the other hand, is
frequently used in offers. This association of will you with requests and of
won’t you with offers tallies very well with the idea that will you presents the
action as desirable from the speaker’s point of view, whereas won’t you
presents it as something that the speaker thinks the addressee would want, or
would be willing to do.
I would add that the combination of an imperative with will you constitutes
a fairly confident request and that it is often used in asymmetrical relation-
ships. The confident, self-assured nature of this frame can be accounted for by
the component ‘I think that you will do it’. The fact that the combination of an
imperative with won’t you sounds more tentative, can be accounted for by the
component ‘I don’t know if you will do it’:
Sit down, will you?

I think that you will do it
I say this because I want to cause you to say that you will do it, and do it
Sit down, won’t you?

I say: I want you to do X. I think that you would want to do it
I don’t know if you will do it
I say this becailse I want to cause you to say that you will do it, and do it
Sit down, can’t you?

I perceive that you are not doing it
I want you to say, if you can, why you can’t do it
I assume you can’t say it
I think that you can do X and that you don’t want to do it

I think you should understand that this is bad
I say this because I want to cause you to feel bad and to do X because of that
15. Why can’t you do X!
Sentences such as:
Why can’t you understand and be generous - be just! (W)
are very close in force to imperatives followed by Why can’t you:
Why can’t you leave me alone!

Leave me alone, why can’t you!
It might even be suggested that the two types may have the same force, and
that they may be derived from the same underlying structure (cf. Sadock
(1974)).
But in fact the two constructions, though fairly close, are distinct, and must
be defined differently. The imperative construction is restricted to the second
person, and it constitutes an attempt to influence the addressee. The interroga-
tive construction allows 3rd person as well as 2nd person targets, and since we
can’t influence by speech someone who doesn’t hear us, this construction can’t
constitute an attempt to influence other people. For example, the sentences:
Why can’t the English learn how to speak!

Why can’t a woman be more like a man!
are not attempts to amend the ways of the English, or of women. Both
constructions state a certain negative perception (W is not doing A’), both
express a critical judgment which the speaker thinks should be shared by the
culprits (I think W should understand that this is bad), both attribute the
culprits’ failure to do what they should be doing to ill-will, not to inability (I
think that W can do X and doesn’t want to do it), and both appeal,
rhetorically, for an explanation, an explanation which, in the speaker’s view,
can’t be forthcoming (I want someone to say, if they can, why W can’t do it; I
assume nobody could).
But the imperative construction expresses the speaker’s will to change the
situation, as well as a desire to make the addressee ‘feel bad’ (I say this because
I want to cause you to feel bad and to do X because of that). In the
interrogative construction, the illocutionary purpose seems to consist merely in
expressing one’s thoughts. Moreover, the imperative construction conveys a
current perception (I perceive that W is not doing X). By contrast, the

interrogative construction states an opinion, which could easily be a ‘repeat’.
For example, it seems likely that a person who says Why can’t the English learn
how to speak! once, would say it many times. It is appropriate, therefore, to
phrase the relevant component of the interrogative construction as ‘I say: W is
not doing something that W should be doing’. This tallies well with the general
impression that Why can’t they do X is primarily a kind of criticism, irritated
but powerless, whereas do X, why can’t you is primarily a kind of directive,
aimed at correcting an unsatisfactory situation:
Do X, why can’t you!

say: I want you to do X
perceive that you are not doing X
feel something bad because of that
think you should understand that this is bad
want you to say, if you can, why you can’t do X
assume you can’t say it
think that you can do X and that you don’t want to do it
say this because I want to cause you to feel bad and to do X because of it
Why can’t W do X!
I say: W is not doing what he should be doing (A’)
I think W should understand that this is bad
I want somebody to say, if they can, why W can’t do it
I assume nobody can say it
I think that W could do X and that W doesn’t want to do it
I say this because I want to show what I think about W and what I feel
because of it
16. You X!
Utterances such as:
You filthy swine!

You fool! .
are so common in English that a linguistic theory which would be unable to

analyse them and which would consequently rule them out as ‘ungrammatical’
would, I think, have to be regarded as a curiosum. Utterances of this kind
convey with perfect clarity an identifiable illocutionary force, or rather, three
alternative illocutionary forces, depending on the semantic class to which X
belongs.
(a) You liar!

(b) You angel! You darling!
(c) You beauty!
To see that these three different types cannot be collapsed under one broader
category, consider the following unacceptable utterances:
* You student!
? You sinner!
? You hero!
* You killer!
? You wog!
Types (b) and (c) can be said to constitute minor types, but (a) is a major
category of utterances, with a wide range of Xs and a high frequency of use. X
(in category (a)) has to fall into a general category of names of person which
describe a person as someone who habitually does something bad, and, which
convey a negative feeling. Sinner does not quite qualify because it has no
negative feeling built into it, and wag, because it doen’t identify any particular
vice. Used with an appropriate modifier, however, wag becomes perfectly
acceptable:
You dirty wog!

You stupid wog!
The full illocutionary force of this category can be spelled out as follows:7
I see that you have done something bad

I feel something bad towards you because of that
I want to say something bad about you because of that
I say: I think of you as a person who does that kind of thing
I say this because I want to show what I think about it and what I feel because
of it
I think you should feel bad because of that
The positive subtype of YOUX! utterances is not symmetrical with respect to

the negative one, as can be seen from the fact that words of high praise, such
as hero or saint, can’t be used in it. What can be used is words which combine
unspecified and hyperbolic praise with affection. An utterance such as You
angel! implies that the addressee has done something good for the speaker, not
7 Expressions such as youfool! or you monster! can of course be used jocularly and affectionately,
but the joke would exploit the inherently pejorative character of words such as fool or monster.
something good in general, but specifically, good for the speaker. As a result,
the speaker wants to say something good about the addressee - and s/he is ‘lost
for words’ (‘I can’t think of something good enough to say about you’).
Consequently, no specific good qualities can be mentioned, and the praise
intended can be phrased only in terms of general ‘lovability’ (‘you are a person
towards whom one must feel good feelings’). A claim of ‘lovability’ must be
distinguished from a purely subjective expression of individual affection, such
as love or sweetheart. One can’t say:
*You love!
as one can’t say:

*She is a love.
although one can say:

She is an angel.
She is a darling.
Love used as a term of address means ‘my love’. It expresses a relationship

between the speaker and the addressee, and does not describe any general
lovability, as angel and darling do.
The illocutionary force of the you (dear) X subtype can be spelled out as
follows :
I see that you have done something good for me

I feel something good towards you because of that
I wouldn’t have expected you to do that
I want to say something about you because of that
I can’t think of something good enough to say about you
I say: I think of you as a person towards whom one must feel good feelings
I say this because I want to show what I think about it and what I feel because
of it
[I think you should feel good because of that]
Finally, subtype (c) is confined to the expression You beauty! and its variants
such as You little beauty! and You beaut. In this subtype, you doesn’t refer to a
person but to an action which delights the speaker and surpasses his/her
expectations. In this subtype, too, the speaker can’t find words good enough to
describe what s/he sees, and s/he feels ‘something good’ because of it: but this
time, the ‘good feeling’ doesn’t have to be directed towards the agent (‘I feel
something good towards you because of that’). Furthermore, an exclamation
You beaut is not addressed to the agent. For example, it can well be uttered by
someone watching a football match on television. It is not expected, therefore,
to have any impact on the agent. The other two sub-types, on the other hand,
do seem to include a component aimed at influencing the addressee (‘I think
you should feel bad/good because of that’). The semantic formula for YOU
beauty and its variants reads:
I see that something good has happened because of something that someone
has done
I feel something good because of that
I wouldn’t have expected to see that
I want to say something good about it because of that
I can’t think of something good enough to say about this
I say: this is beautiful
I say this because I want to show what I feel because of it
17. Modal verbs (S will be P,S must be P)
Another category of clues to the illocutionary force comprises modal verbs,

used as in the following exchanges:
Marthy: How old’11 she be now?

Chris : She must be - lat me see - she must be twenty year ole, py
Yo! (AC)
The combination of the modal will with the adverb now shows clearly that in
this sentence will does not indicate future tense. What it does indicate, in this
particular sentence, is that the speaker is inviting the addressee to make an
estimate. Most generally, it indicates a thinking process, leading a person from
not being able to say the right thing about something to being able to do so,
with some confidence:
Johnny: Where’s it from?

Larry: (after a glance) St. Paul. That’11 be in Minnesota, I’m thinkin’. (AC)
Quite clearly, the speaker is not informing the addressee that St. Paul is in
Minnesota, and he is not exactly inferring it either. There is no performative
verb in English which would capture exactly the illocutionary force of such
sentences. Nonetheless, its force can be clearly stated:
I think I’ll be able to say the right thing if I think about it

I want to think about it
I assume I can now say it
I say: X
94 A. Wierzbicka / M etalanguage for illocutionary meanings
A question such as how old’11 she be now? invites an answer with this kind of
illocutionary force:
I think you will be able to say the right thing if you think about it
I want you to think about it
I assume you can now say it
The explication has temporal order built into it, referring as it does to a
passage of time. It shows that the modal will is related to the future will, and
that in fact the meaning of the latter is contained in the meaning of the former.
As for the modal must (she must be twenty year old), it indicates a similar,
but not identical illocutionary force. It is less speculative, and it doesn’t refer to
time spent in thinking.
Looking at the portrait of an unknown woman, one would say:
She must be very beautiful.
but hardly
?She will be very beautiful.
Since in this particular situation the judgment is clearly based on what one can
see (the portrait), not on a process of thinking, will is inappropriate. Of course
the sentence is line if will is interpreted in the future sense ‘she will be beautiful
in the future’, but not if it is interpreted in the modal sense ‘she will be
beautiful now’.
The illocutionary force of must-sentences can be stated as follows:
I say: I think I can say this about X

I think it must be right
This is of course a much more tentative force than that of Z must say-sentences.
The modal must in sentences of the S must be P-type is not derived from an
underlying ‘I must say’ component. Rather, it is derived from ‘I think it must
be right’. Saying“S must be P’ the speaker stops short of asserting that S is P
and the explication doesn’t include a component of the form ‘I say: S is P’. But
an explication of the frame ‘I must say: S is P’ would have to include such a
component.
I must say, she is very beautiful

I say: she is very beautiful
I say this because I think I must say it (if I want to say what is right)
(It is not my purpose to explicate must here, but to relate the expression I must
say to the basic sense of must.)
18. Mental verbs
The illocutionary force of an utterance can be identified quite clearly by a

‘mental’ verb used in it (present tense, 1st person singular), which identities the
speaker’s mental state associated with that utterance (cf. Urmson (1963) and
Ross (1973)).
A sentence introduced by a frame such as Z think, Z hope, Ifear, I reckon, Z
suppose, Z gather, or I remember, without a complementizer, makes it quite
clear that the speaker is not informing the addressee, not announcing anything,
and not even telling the addressee anything, but that s/he is rather expressing
his/her thoughts.
You have a young lady, I understand. (GP)

I gather Donald has a girl too, is that right? (GP)
Your wife’s working, I gather. (GP)
Thus, the illocutionary purpose of an utterance introduced in a 1st person

mental frame (without a complementizer) seems to be:
I say this because I want to say what I think.
Given this illocutionary purpose, it is perhaps not necessary to include in the

explication an explicit disclaimer:
I say this not because I want to cause other people to think this.
If the speaker shows that what s/he wants is to express his/her thoughts, then it
is more or less implied that s/he is not motivated by a desire to influence other
people.
It seems, however, that a mental illocutionary clause serves as a disclaimer in
a different sense, and this other disclaiming function should perhaps be
portrayed explicitly in the semantic formula. A person who says:
I believe he’s quite a decent fellow.

I hope she comes.
indicates that s/he does not want to commit himself/herself to what s/he says.
S/he indicates that s/he is not prepared to say (to ‘assert’) the proposition in
question. For this reason, if an utterance such as:
He’s quite a decent fellow.
can be represented as:
I say: he’s quite a decent fellow.
and is compatible with the illocutionary purpose:
I say this because I want to cause you to know it.
an utterance such as:
I believe he’s quite a decent fellow.
should perhaps be represented as:
I say: I believe he’s quite a decent fellow.

I say this because I want to say what I think.
The sentence in the Z believe frame would not be reported as, for example:
She claimed that he was quite a decent fellow.
It could only be reported as:
She said she thought (believed) that he was quite a decent fellow.
This mode of reporting confirms the supposition that in sentences in the frame
I believe, the complement of Z believe is not embedded directly under Z say, and
that Z believe is so embedded:
Too late now, Don, Zfear. \

I say: I fear it is too late now
His wife’s work&g, Z gather.
I say: I think because of what I hear (perceive) that his wife is working
(In the last two examples I have replaced you and your with he and his, because
you-frames have their own peculiarities, which have to be discussed separately.)
19. Particles and conjunctions
As the ancient and medieval theorists of language well realised, the illocutio-
nary force of an utterance is often signalled by particles, conjunctions and
interjections. For example, the Greek particle /Z&Y‘how’ was regarded by the
Stoics as a marker of what they called thaumastikon, the ‘lekton’ of admiration
or astonishment (see Nuchelmans (1973: 63)), and the Latin particle utinam
‘would it’ was described by Paul of Venice as nota optandi, the mark of a wish
(ibid.: 148). In a similar vein, Austin suggested that “we may use the particle
still with the force of ‘I insist that’; we use therefore with the force of ‘I
conclude that’; we use although with the force ‘I concede that”’ (Austin
(1965: 75)).
Clearly, there is also a close relationship between yes and Z agree, between no
and Z disagree, or between and and Z add. Nonetheless, no particle or
conjunction has exactly the same meaning as a performative verb. In fact,
particles and conjunctions usually specify only some parts of the illocutionary
force, whereas a performative verb specifies all of it. Consequently, particles
and conjunctions, in contrast to performative verbs, can be combined with a
fairly wide range of other devices partially specifying the illocutionary force.
Thus, one can say:
So you’ve just landed? (AC)

It’ll get him all right, then? (AC)
using so or then in the context of a question, but one could hardly use a phrase
such as Z infer or Z conclude in this way.
In this section I will discuss these two words - so and then - in some detail,
to show how the proposed method of analysis is applied to particles and
conjunctions.
Halliday and Hasan (1976: 257) suggest that when so and then are used as
causal conjunctions, they indicate “the speaker’s reasoning process: ‘I conclude
from what you say’ (or other evidence) - compare expressions such as Z
gather”.
I think that this explication is basically correct, but that it has to be refined.
For one thing, so is not identical in meaning with then, so two slightly different
formulae are needed rather than one. For another, the verb conclude is too
intellectual to portray the impact of so. Concluding means not so much saying
something on the basis of the evidence available, as saying something on the
basis of an examination of the evidence. For this reason, concluding is based on
arguments, on a reasoning, not directly on evidence. But so refers directly to
the evidence perceived.
98 A. W ierzbicka / M etalanguage for iliocutionary meanings
For example, in the first scene of The night of the iguana one of the
protagonists, Shannon, is told by another, Maxine, that her husband, Fred, is
dead. A few moments later Shannon resumes the topic saying:
So Fred is dead?
Clearly, Shannon is not concluding that Fred is dead, because he has been
informed of it. His attitude can’t be portrayed, therefore, as:
I conclude from what you say that Fred is dead.
It can be portrayed, however, as follows:
I assume that one can say ‘Fred is dead’, because of what you say.
If so is combined with the interrogative intonation, as in the example under

discussion, another component is signalled in addition:
I want you to say something more about it.
and possibly also one more:
I want us to talk about it.
Thus, a full explication of So . ..? would read as follows:
I assume I can say X because of what I hear (perceive)

I want you to say that it is right
I want you to say something more about it
I want us to talk about it
Then differs from so in a number of respects. UnlikePo, it doesn’t refer to

the immediate, audible (or otherwise perceivable) evidence. For this reason, it
can be used in more hypothetical contexts, where so is out of place, as in the
following examples repeated here after Halliday and Hasan (1976: 258):
‘And what does it live on?

‘Weak tea with cream in it’.
A new difficulty came into Alice’s head.
‘Supposing it couldn’t find any?’ she suggested.
‘Then,(*so) it would die, of course.’ (AW)
Then can also be used in making a judgment, i.e. in assessing a situation.

A. Wierzbicka 1 Metalanguage for iilocutionary meanings 99
‘Have some wine’, the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

Alice looked all around the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. ‘I don’t
see any wine’, she remarked.
‘There isn’t any’, said the March Hare.
‘Then (?so) it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it’, said Alice angrily. (AW)
All these differences in usage between the causal so and the causal then can be
predicted, I think, from the following two explications:
so: I assume I can say this because of what I hear (perceive).

Then: I say this because you said that.
So, unlike then, is indeed closely related to the expression I gather, and it
wouldn’t make much sense to use Zgather in expressing an evaluation:
? I gather that it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it.
Both so and Z gather indicate that the speaker is trying to say a true sentence
on the basis of what s/he perceives; by contrast, then indicates that the speaker
is saying something because of what has been said before.
But the semantic differences between so and then can’t be equated with the
differences between gather, conclude, infer, or other illocutionary verbs. For
example, gather, though closer to so than it is to then, is less confident and less
directly linked to evidence than so is. Having heard a few minutes earlier, from
Maxine, that Fred is dead, one couldn’t say to Maxine:
I gather that Fred is dead.
Each verb, and each particle, has to be described separately, and though many
components recur, each verb and each particle constitutes a unique configura-
tion of components (for a subtle study of the illocutionary force of particles,
see Goddard (1979); see also Wierzbicka (1976)).
20. Interjections
Interjections express a feeling or a ‘want’ on the speaker’s part. They have,

therefore, their own illocutionary force, which can be described in terms of
components such as ‘I feel X’, ‘I want Y’. Since, however, they typically
combine with other utterances into larger wholes, and since their illocutionary
force must be compatible with that of the co-utterance, they often serve as
important clues identifying the illocutionary force of the combined utterance as
a whole. For example, in the utterance:
Ah, my God, are they still in the bus? (NI)
The part are they still in the bus? will not be interpreted as a pure question,
despite its interrogative structure, because the meaning of the interjection ah,
my God ensures that what follows is to be interpreted as a sudden realization:
Ah, my God, . . . X.
I realize that something bad is happening
I wouldn’t have expected that
The related interjection for God’s sake encodes a slightly different attitude: it
implies that although something bad is going on, the speaker intends to stop it;
and that as s/he is not in control of the situation, s/he will attempt to stop it
via an action of the addressee. Hence the co-utterance will probably include an
imperative, and, moreover, a bare imperative, unembellished by any interroga-
tive devices, such as tag questions, why-don’t-you’s, etc.
The illocutionary force of an utterance in the frame For God’s sake, X! can
be spelled out as follows:
I perceive that something bad is happening

I want it not to happen
I can’t cause it not to happen
I want you to cause it not to happen
I want you to do it at once
I say this in this way because I can’t do anything else to cause you to do it
I assume that you have to do it because of that
Using a more conventional (but less precise) language, one might say that for
God’s sake signals a negative judgment, negative feelings, frustration, helpless-
ness: a sense of urgency, an appeal to the addressee, a feeling of not being in
control, combined with a desire to obtain one’s goal no matter what, a sense of
desperation.
As a final example, let us consider the interjection gee. Often described in
dictionaries as interjection of surprise, gee has in fact a more complex meaning;
and ‘surprise’ is sometimes an inappropriate gloss, as well as an inaccurate
one :
(1) Gee, wasn’t I sick of it - and of them! (AC)

(2) Gee, that’s a nice dress!
(3) Gee, 1 was scared for a moment I killed you! (AC)
(4) Gee, you look like you had it! (NI)
In sentence 1, the speaker re-lives a past disgust. Sentence 2 expresses

appreciation. In sentence 3 the speaker re-lives a recently experienced fear.
Sentence 4 expresses a mild pity. It is not surprise, then, which constitutes the
semantic invariant of gee. The real invariant, however, is related to surprise in
so far as it combines an emotional component with the idea of unexpectedness:
I am thinking about X
I feel something because of that
I wouldn’t have expected to perceive this
It is easy to check that this set of components does fit all the examples of
utterances with gee cited above.
Generally speaking, it seems that while many interjections and other illocu-
tionary devices encode an emotion, the nature of this emotion is never very
specific. If we tried to include in the semantic representation a name of the
emotion (such as surprise, anger, irritation, frustration, etc.), we would be
overspecifying the emotion conventionally conveyed - just as we would be
over-specifying the illocutionary force of a syntactic construction by recon-
structing a speech act verb. The level of specificity of emotions encoded in
various illocutionary devices doesn’t seem to go beyond ‘I feel something’, or ‘I
feel something bad/good’ or ‘I feel bad/good feelings towards you’. Additional
information about the kind of emotion involved is conveyed implicitly, and
neither can nor should be specified in the semantic representation.
Returning to gee, I would add that in addition to having its own illocutio-
nary force, it functions also as an important clue to the illocutionary force of
the co-utterance. The point is that an utterance framed by gee is not used for
informing, stating facts, reporting, reminding, warning, and countless other
purposes which can be served by declarative sentences. Gee signals that the
force of the co-utterance is this:
In fact, gee shares this function with many other interjections. For example, the
sentence :
I left the oven on.
could be reported as ‘she informed him that . ..‘. ‘she confessed that . ..‘. ‘she
admitted that . . .‘, ‘she stated that . ..‘, and so on. But when framed by ‘oh, my
God’, it could not be so reported:
Oh my God! I left the oven on!

In this frame, the co-utterance expresses a spontaneous thought:
21. Fixed expressions
In addition to lexical devices such as conjuctions, particles and interjections,

and to syntactic constructions, English (and presumably every language)
contains a large number of fixed expressions, encoding a variety of illocutio-
nary forces. In fact, no sharp line divides these ‘fixed expressions’ from
productive lexical and grammatical resources. For example, expressions such as
Oh, my God! or For God’s sake! can be described either as ‘fixed expressions’ or
as ‘complex interjections’, and both descriptions would be equally apt.
Similarly, expressions such as why don’t you . . . or how about . . . can be
described either as markers of specific syntactic constructions or as ‘fixed
expressions’. Since all ‘fixed expressions’ have their ‘syntactic fields’ (i.e. more
or less limited spheres of use), they can be seen as pertaining to syntax as well
as to the lexicon.
The clearest examples of fixed expressions carrying their own illocutionary
force come from the area of greetings and leave-taking. Roughly speaking, one
can describe the force of expressions such as good morning or good afternoon in
terms of the verb greet. But no similar verb exists in contemporary English
which would correspond to the expressions goodbye or goodnight. The illocu-
tionary force of the latter expressions, then, can be stated only in terms of a set
of components. For goodbye, this can be done as follows:
Goodbye
I assume that you and I both realize that we are now going to cease to be in
the same place
I assume you and I both realize that we will cease to be able to say things to
one another because of that
I want to say something to you because of that -J
I want to say something of the kind that people can be expected to say to one
another when they are going to cease to be in the same place
I say this because I want to cause you to see that I think of you as someone to
whom I would have wanted to say something
(For discussion and justification, see Wierzbicka, forthcoming.) Expressions

such as good morning or good night are of course very frequently used, and it is
hard to overlook them in an over-all description of language use. But English,
and presumably other languages as well, have countless other expressions,
which while less frequently used, are equally clear in their illocutionary force. I
will illustrate this claim with two examples: how dare y ou! and go (and) jump
in the lake! For reasons of space, I won’t discuss these expressions, but I will
simply propose semantic formulae to represent their illocutionary force.
How dare y ou!

I see that you are doing something bad
I don’t want you to do it
I wouldn’t have expected you to do it
I say: I don’t understand how you can dare to do this
I feel something bad because of this
I say this because I want to show you how I feel because of this
Go (and) jump in the lake!
I knoiv that you want me to do X
I assume you know that I don’t want to do it
I will not do it
I think you want me to think that if I don’t do it something bad may happen
to you
I say: I don’t care
I say this because I don’t want to talk about it any more
I will confine myself to just two comments on these explications. It will be

noticed that the surface form of the expression how dare y ou! incorporates
fragments of the proposed underlying form, whereas the expression go and
jump in the lake! does not. This means, that, for example, the lexical item dare
occurs in the fixed expression under consideration in the same meaning which
it carries elsewhere: the fixed expressions add additional components to the
meaning encoded by its constituents, but the usual meaning of those consti-
tuents is preserved. On the other hand, the expression go (and) jump in the lake
can be said to be more deeply ‘idiomatic’, because the usual meaning of its
lexical constituents is not preserved here: accordingly, words such as jump or
lake are not mentioned in the proposed explication at all.
22. Intonation
It goes without saying that no survey of the illocutionary devices of natural

language could be complete if it failed to mention intonation. The present
paper has no ambition of providing a complete survey (a solid book would be
necessary for that). Nonetheless, I feel that even here intonation must be at
least mentioned.
It seems indubitable that intonation plays a fundamental role in the area of
illocutionary meanings. Limitations of space (as well as of my competence)
preclude any serious discussion of this problem in this paper. I would like,
however, to illustrate this role of intonation with a short quote from what
seems to me to be a highly competent and illuminating source of information
on the subject (Deakin (1981)). Thus with respect to ‘positive interrogative
exclamations’ Deakin (1981: 57) says:
“ Utterances like ‘is she beautiful’ with rhythmically repeated rising-falling pitch glides and
lengthening on each syllable (especially the last) are not taken as meaning an inquiry, or even that
the addressee is expected to reply. Rhetorical questions like ‘is this the way we should be doing this’
with ‘high’ pitch and ‘tense’ voicing are not taken as inquiries, or as expecting an answer (although
the answer ‘no’ is consistent with them). Similarly, ‘can you pass the salt’ uttered with low rising
intonation is generally taken as a request, not an inquiry. The addressee does not have to reply,
unless he does not comply with the request. He can readily comply and say nothing, although it is
more usual to reply as well.”
It is true that the best authorities on intonation such as Bolinger (1982)

caution against too hasty attempts to link specific intonational features with
specific kinds of speech acts. But while Bolinger’s strictures are probably fully
justified with respect to his particular targets, cautious and careful semantic
analysis of intonation of the kind attempted by Deakin seems to me not only
justifiable but urgently needed. Just as the illocutionary force conveyed by
grammatical and lexical means can’t be adequately portrayed in global terms
(e.g. by means of English speech act verbs), so can’t the illocutionary force
conveyed by means of intonation. Arguably, however, it can be portrayed by
means of more subtle analytical tools. Deakin (1981) goes so far as to postulate
specific illocutionary meanings for the basic English tones, and for the falling
and rising heads, using for that purpose natural language semantic primitives.
His analysis seems to me illuminating and plausible. It can’t, however, be
reported here, for reasons for space.
I hope to have shown that English and, presumably, any other language,
possesses a whole range of devices which convey well defined illocutionary
forces, Since these devices are largely language-specific, their force cannot be
calculated on the basis of any universal pragmatic maxims, Gricean or non-
Gricean. Needless to say, even leaving aside the intonation, the devices
discussed in this paper constitute only a small part of the language’s illo-
cutionary resources. They should suffice, however, to establish the point that
the alleged enormous indeterminacy of illocutionary forces is largely an
illusion, born out of an inadequate analytical model. When instead of trying to
squeeze every conceivable utterance into a pigeon-hole created by a speech act
verb, we analyse the illocutionary force of this utterance into individual
A. Wierzbicka / M etalanguage for illocutionary meanings 105
components, it emerges that language provides numerous unmistakable illocu-

tionary clues, which enable the listeners ~ and the linguists - to identify
illocutionary forces with considerable precision (on a sub-conscious level in the
case of listeners, and on a conscious level in the case of linguists).8
To return to the question of ‘indeterminacy’ (when people speak to us can
we detect what they are doing, i.e. what acts they are performing?), I think the
answer must be that we can do it to a much higher degree than it has been
assumed. Illocutionary forces are not nearly as indeterminate as it has been
maintained. But the exact level of their determinacy (or otherwise) is an
empirical matter which has to be established on an empirical basis.
A preliminary study of a few samples of dialogue taken from plays, as well
as from transcripts of natural conversation, seems to suggest that, generally
speaking, we know fairly well what the speakers are doing: the samples
examined swarm with clear illocutionary clues, whose force can be spelled out
in rigorous semantic formulae. But to show that this is the case a separate
paper is required. The main purpose of the present paper consists in proposing
a framework within which illocutionary forces can be analysed at all - with
precision and without arbitrariness.
It has also been a purpose of this paper to show that the decomposition of
illocutionary forces into illocutionary components offers solutions to problems
which have led a number of linguists to abandon the performative analysis and
which have driven them to a desperate position where they are forced to
condemn the bulk of conversational English as ‘ungrammatical’.
The performative analysis, which met the problems of language use head on
and which indeed “took the bull by the horns” (Bach and Harnish (1982: 225))
was, in my view, on the right track (and in fact, on the track indicated by the
great medieval thinkers such as Pierre Abelard or Roger Bacon). It is true that
in the form in which it was proposed by generative semanticists the perfor-
mative hypothesis encountered insuperable problems. But the problems
encountered by the more recent theories, which once again dig a gulf between
grammar and language use, are even worse.
Decomposition of illocutionary forces allows us to preserve the common
sense position and not to have to condemn conversational English as ‘ungram-
matical’. It allows us to account for language use, and to make sense of
grammar in terms of people’s communicative needs and illocutionary inten-
tions. It allows us to relate syntactic surface structures to meaning, and to
validate claims about meaning with observations about the actual language
use.9
* For numerous subtle analyses of illocutionary clues in Russian see PaduEeva (1985).
9 The problem of ‘what people do with words’ can of course be studied from a number of
different points of view, not only from a purely linguistic point of view, advocated here. In
particular, conversational analysis of the kind practised by sociologists (see e.g. Sudnow (1972),
Schenkein (1978) or Psathas (1979)) has, in my view, a great deal to offer in this respect. But when
106 A. W ierzbicka 1 M etalanguage for illocutionary meanings
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Journal of Pragmatics 10 (1986) 67-107 67

A SEMANTIC METALANGUAGE FOR THE DESCRIPTION

* Author’s address: A. Wierzbicka, Dept. of Linguistics, Australian National University, G.P.O.

0378%2166/86/$3.50 0 1986, Elsevier Science Publishers B.V. (North-Holland)

The so-called performative analysis forces the analyst to reconstruct in each

2. Illocutionary forces as bundles of components

Consider again a sentence such as:

If we analyze it as ‘I order you to come here’ then we are indeed overspecifying

Could you be quiet!

Could you please be quiet?

they therefore get condemned as ‘bad horses’, malformed horses, misbehaving

Could you please be quiet!

get condemned as ungrammatical!

components is a necessary part of linguistics already - if lexicography has

3. Syntax and illocutionary force

Consider utterances such as these (Schreiber (1972: 331)?, Levinson

(50) I tell you frankly you’re a swine.

In prefacing one’s sentence with frankly , as in (51) the speaker is not

I now want to say something frankly.

As for sentences with a because clause,

(58) I state John’s at Sue’s house because his car’s outside.

Can you please close the window?

I now want to say something frankly

An infinitive clause such as to change the subject can’t be plausibly derived

4. Why don’t you do X (tomorrow)?

A sentence such as:

Why don’t you play tennis any more?

can be a straightforward question. If, however, a sentence in the frame why

Why don’t you go and see a doctor tomorrow?

But even in such relatively clear cases, a measure of ‘indeterminacy’ remains.

Could you please be quiet.

Consider sentences such as the celebrated:

Why paint your house purple?

I say: I want you to say, if you can, why you/we should do X

I maintain that the syntactic construction why do X? always carries these

Why paint your house white?

Why not have him come here?

The illocutionary force of this twin-construction differs from that of why do X

Why paint the house purple?

Why not paint it purple?

How about a drink?

drink’ or ‘I invite you to dinner’, because it would involve a great deal of

The action is presented as potentially desirable, but the speaker is not as

An explication of the kind proposed above can be regarded as just such a

7. Additional remarks on the methodology of semantic explication

Several formulae explicating illocutionary forces have been introduced so far

8. Tell you what, X!

Acts similar to suggestions can also be signalled in English by means of the

I think I know what we should do

I say: I think X would be a good thing to do

9. Do you know, X...?

Do you know, he has started a new poem? (NI)

Do you know-sentences are related to tell you what-sentences, in so far as

I say: I want to say something to you (x)

An interesting formal feature of do you know-sentences used in this sense is

Do you know, I had a dream about you last night.

Do you know that X?!

The contrast in illocutionary force between do you know (*that) . . . and do

could be meant as a piece of news, rather than as a genuine question, but it