In searching for more effective ways of persuading people to buy goods, a great many merchandisers or ‘probers’ (Packard, 1957) turned to psychologists in order to gain insights into the deepest recesses of the psyche and the factors that motivate people, and then to capitalise on their expectations and fears. Equipped with this knowledge, ad men nowadays exert a remarkable influence on people’s habits and conceptualisation of the world and themselves in relation to values—values which are, in great measure, determined by the marketplace. Packard (1957: 14), perhaps one of the most vehement critics of "the hidden persuaders" who have ensnared us by appealing to our unconscious or subconscious needs, eloquently captures the "state of the art":

The sale of ‘self-images’ (ibid.) is now the norm. Advertisements barely focus on products alone; it is the prospective buyers that they make "overtures" to—which is mirrored in the language used and in such features as the colours in the ad, its layout, and so on (we will consider some of these aspects in due course). As Ewen (1976, cited in Leiss et al., 1990: 23) notes, advertisers have effected a ‘self-conscious change in the psychic economy’ by inundating the marketplace with suggestions that consumers should buy goods in order to enter realms of experience previously unfamiliar to them. Gradually then, advertising has become a ‘highly organized and professional system of magical inducements and satisfactions’ (Williams, 1980 [1962], cited in Leiss et al., 1990: 25) which can sell us emotional security, reassurance of wealth, ego-gratification, creative outlets, love objects, a sense of power and roots, and immortality (see Packard, 1957: 66-74 for further details).

Many people would, at this juncture, hasten to defend advertising on the grounds that the consumer is a rational decision maker who avails herself of technology; advertising cannot create new needs but can only help increase or speed up consumption (Schudson, 1984, cited in Leiss et al., 1990: 36); and without the help of advertising, consumers would have limited information about the products circulating around them. What they lose sight of, though, is the fact that ‘[w]e never relate to goods only for their plain utility; there is always a symbolic aspect to our interactions with them’ (Leiss et al., 1990: 45).

Now that we have briefly outlined the "state of the art," we move on to the actual study of advertisements and the ways in which they persuade us. There are many approaches to this end, but we will draw upon two: semiology, or the study of signs, and content analysis. Semiology, on the one hand, is concerned with the emergence and "movement" of meaning within the text and between the text and the world surrounding it. Content analysis, on the other, focuses on the surface meaning of an ad, detecting similarities and differences.

Indisputably, the growing predominance of visuals in ads has resulted in a kind of ambiguity of meaning, which renders the interpretation of the message more complex and challenging. Earlier advertisements explicitly stated the message by describing the product and adducing arguments in its favour. In the 1920s, however, visuals were more frequently used, and these two, text and visual, became complementary. Still, in the 1960s, the text shifted away from describing the visual toward a more elaborate and mystic form, whereby it functioned as a "key" to the visual (Leiss et al., 1990: 199). Against this background of radical changes in the form and content of advertisements, the abovementioned approaches, semiology and content analysis, offer us an insight into the structures of ads and help throw light on the subtle elements, expectations and assumptions, with which they are imbued.

Roland Barthes (1973, cited in Leiss et al., 1990: 200-201), following Ferdinand De Saussure’s tradition, divides a sign into two components: the signifier and the signified. The signifier is the material object; the signified is its abstract meaning. Let us illustrate this with Barthe’s own example: Roses signify passion or love. If we analyse their "meaning," we have three elements: the signifier—the roses; the signified—passion or love; and the sign—the "passionified roses" as a whole. Of course, there is nothing inherently "passionate" or "amorous" about roses; they are viewed as such within the context of western culture. In another culture, roses could signify something different, even the opposite of passion or love. Thus, any interpretation of advertisements from a semiotic perspective is bound up with cultural norms and values which may be at odds with those operating in different cultures or different systems of meaning. After all, the power of advertisements lies in, and appropriates, these very norms and values, with a view to reconstituting reality, while "tinging" it with an arcane suggestiveness and elusiveness.

Drawing upon several advertisements, we will endeavour to probe into the ‘probers’’ minds, weaving the two approaches together. More specifically, we will focus on the rhetorical devices employed (e.g., metaphors, metonymy, jingles, etc.), as well as the ways in which the text and the visual element prevail upon us to react, i.e., to buy the product (e.g., their proclivity for creating a problem, only to consign it to the "omnipotence" of the product, their spatial arrangement, etc.). Unfortunately, an in-depth analysis is outside the remit of this study.

Let us consider the following ad: A black Ford Zetec covers two pages in the magazine, while the text reads: "When the lorry in front loses its load, most drivers would find themselves losing control. Not if you’re driving the new 2.0 litre Ford Focus Zetec ESP. One of the first cars in its class available with an Electronic Stability Program. ESP constantly assesses the angle you are steering against information received from sensors on the behaviour and direction of the car. By reducing engine power and braking individual wheels it helps you to maintain control and stability, allowing you to stay on track. It’s almost like it knows what to do before you do. So sit back, enjoy the ride and expect more." And the motto just above the car is: "just steer."

This common, albeit "catchy," ad addresses the prospective buyer directly through the use of the pronoun you. What is more, the strategy it employs is that of creating a problem—or rather setting a scene familiar to many a driver ("When the lorry in front loses its load, most drivers would find themselves losing control.") Only in the first sentence is there any mention of "most drivers"—apparently in order to juxtapose them to you, the prospective buyer. "You" are not like "most drivers" because "you" are driving "the new 2.0 litre Ford Focus Zetec ESP." Another device employed in the ad is the use of personification, as in "ESP constantly assesses…it helps you…It’s almost like it knows…" The new Ford Focus is more of a jinee in a bottle waiting for you to rub it than merely a car. All "you" have to do is "sit back, enjoy the ride and expect more," revelling in the security its omnipotence affords. Finally, the pun in "just steer," referring to the actual steering of the vehicle and, only obliquely, to the idiom "to steer clear of," consciously or unconsciously, dares us to pop into the car and drive, reminding us of our inability to resist the temptation vs. the omnipotence of the vehicle. As Williamson observes, ‘puns perform the correlating function seen in all ads, but in a way that begs to be deciphered…condensation draws together both the denoted and connoted meanings of the ad, therefore making a deterministic connection between them’ (Williamson, 1978: 87).

Yet, not all ads are so straightforward and direct. Let us examine the following ad (found in Williamson, 1978: 25). The ad shows Catherine Deneuve’s face and a Chanel No 5 bottle. There is no text linking these two; they are simply juxtaposed. But are they really linked, in the first place? One could say that they are supposed to be linked, in terms of an assumption that they are inextricably related. This link, though, is arbitrary, drawing upon our knowledge of a glamorous world of films and magazines, which Deneuve has come to be associated with. Thus, in juxtaposing her face, which signifies beauty and glamour, with Chanel No 5, there is a "latent" transference of meaning from Deneuve’s face to the product, and back again. Not only is her face rendered an object that is summoned to "argue" in favour of the product, but it also depends on that product for the beauty and glamour ascribed to it. Here, the use of language is irrelevant, as the ad appropriates the relationship obtaining between signifier (Catherine Deneuve) and signified (glamour and beauty).

In other ads, the visual, not only complements, but virtually transcends, the text, to convey a meaning which is not always easy to decipher. Consider the Gordon’s Gin ad, where there are two different photographs of a famous actor of the 1950s, the second one being obviously altered to the point where the actor is barely recognisable. On the left side of the first photo, there is a text in italics, reading: Gordon’s is made with the pick of the Tuscan Juniper. On the right side of the second photo, the text written in a regular typeface reads: "Other gins are made with what’s left." Finally, at the bottom of the page, there is a Gordon’s Special Dry London Gin bottle in the middle of the sentence: "If you’re not drinking (bottle of Gin) what are you drinking?"

Apparently, the significance of the ad resides in assumptions and values outside its ‘grammar’ (Williamson, 1978). First of all, the juxtaposition of the two photographs appropriates the general belief that a good photograph means good quality, which then invites the reader to make the connection between the quality of the first photograph with that of the product through the association of the text in italics with the first picture, and the regular text with the second. Furthermore, the thin typeface (i.e., italics) stands in stark contrast to the regular text, as it is associated with glamour and prestige and arouses "elegant" feelings. So, the last sentence "If you’re not drinking (bottle of Gin) what are you drinking?" could easily be rephrased as: "If you’re not one of those who prefer our gin, then who are you?" Once again, the product is "put on a pedestal," while tinkering with our desire for approval, that is, suggesting to us that we will find our identity only if we indulge in it. In addition, the use of the calligram, i.e., the picture of the bottle, instead of the words naming it, establishes the product as something that has a substance all its own, which is beyond words. As Williamson (1978: 91) has noted,

Yet another device is the absence of a "character" in the ad. For example, in an ad (found in Williamson, 1978: 80), there is an attractive, vivacious woman looking at someone, certainly a man, and saying, "Dry Sack On The Rocks. It’s My Drink," as if in answer to the man’s question: "What will you drink?". Her dress is unbuttoned and her glance mysterious and provocative. At the bottom of the page is a bottle of Sherry, while the text reads: "Williams & Humbert DRY SACK World Famous Sherry From Spain." The absent man is definitely every man, every prospective male buyer, who is induced to feel that drinking this brand of sherry will exalt him to the status of a Don Juan who, besides his intellect and irresistible looks, will have something more up his sleeve, the product, to fall back on, if need be.

In the past decade or so, there has been a shift from traditional discourse conventions, as those attending, say, counselling and medical consultations, toward conversational discursive practices, which is reflected in a great number of adverts. This propensity, called ‘conversationalization’ (Fairclough, 1995: 100-101), results in a modicum of informality and gives ads a tête-à-tête quality, in contrast with the rigidity and authoritarianism that institutional discourse is riddled with. It goes without saying that this shift is not immune from social and cultural changes, such as democracy, freedom, and individualism. These changes, though, cloaked in this ‘conversational’ discourse, have been conducive to what Fairclough calls the ‘technologization of discourse’, i.e.,

The first ad is entitled "Spot the Open University student," while under a photo of four young people eating and having fun there are four questions followed by a text which we shall briefly discuss: "Which one do you reckon? The woman on the right? The man in the middle? What about the waiter?". As the blurred picture suggests and the first paragraph of the text explicitly states, "normal stereotypes don’t apply. You can’t tell what an OU student looks like, because they come in all sizes, all ages and from all backgrounds." And in the second paragraph, it says: "What does mark them out though, is a determination to run their own lives. They want more out of life and that means they’re hungry to learn. But they don’t want second hand or second best learning. They choose quality…" The Open University student is not like any student: he knows what he wants from life. The ‘transparently persuasive lexicalizations" (ibid.: 109) "determination," "hungry," "second hand," and "choose" all focus on the individual’s needs and desires rather than the requirements that universities were previously known to postulate. Furthermore, the use of imperatives ("Make no mistake it’s a real university," "Meet your tutor and make new friends," "Ask anyone who’s studied with the OU recently…") contributes to a conversational air that only recently has come to characterise university adverts or prospectuses. Finally, it is mentioned that "30,000 companies choose the OU," which corroborates Fairclough’s claim that there are ‘pressures on universities to operate under market conditions, to ‘sell’ their courses, using discursive techniques from advertising’ (ibid.: 106-107).

The same applies to the second ad about the same university. The use of imperatives ("Study for a BA or BSc degree") and the focus on the individual rather than the institution ("You can choose from over 168 courses…," "You can take one-off courses…," "Subjects available…") point to the fact that universities are no longer the ‘authoritor[s]’ (ibid.: 107) upon whom the success or failure of candidates is incumbent, but ‘consumer-orientated’ (ibid.) institutions dependent upon their "clients."

Acknowledgements