Mark Carney's architectural rhetoric

The Governor of the Bank of England is an accomplished speaker and an international figure well aware of his own influence. This is why his speech at Oxford University in October was so hotly anticipated – his theme was the impact of the UK’s membership of the European Union on the workings of the Bank of England. The nation’s press corps was amassed with baited breath, waiting for the governor to throw his weight behind one or other side of the debate.

The governor could do no such thing, of course. His role is to remain politically neutral, even while wielding power that politicians can only dream of. For this reason, his rhetorical approach in the opening segments of the speech is worth unpicking for the way in which he takes control of a complex brief and a pugnacious audience – to great effect.

The speech opens with a few reflections on Sir Alec Cairncross, founder of the lecture series. This is safe territory for Carney – we know from previous speeches that he likes to begin with a few well judged historical parallels. What is more unusual here is how he deftly builds his celebration of Wren’s masterpiece library into a shield. Stating very clearly that he will not be satisfying the press’s desire for blood, he invites them instead to “sit back. Literally. Admire the Sheldonian’s Ceiling... Reflect upon the allegory in the paintings that shows Truth descending upon the Arts and Sciences, expelling ignorance from the University.” The aside should have had his listeners laughing, but as with all the best humour he is making a very serious point: do not try to warp my words to your own ends. Staccato sentences slow down the delivery – he is not asking but commanding his audience to pay attention.

The meat of his speech follows, but Carney returns to the Wren ceiling one last time at the end of his remarks. Having marvelled at the architectural trick that enables the dome to span such a wide arc without visible supports, he reveals his most powerful parallel, which brings both elements of his speech together:

“The genius of Wren’s ceiling was its inspired interlocking beams, individually insufficient to span the Sheldonian’s diameter, but collectively arranged so that each could support one another, perfectly balancing the forces of those pushing down with others pushing up, resting, ultimately, on the foundations Wren began in 1664.”

The aptitude of the analogy is clear to his audience even before he adds, “And this is the architecture of Europe: a single market whose participants are interlinked, relying on and complementing each other.”

It is architecturally deft rhetoric which matches Wren’s own brilliance. Read it in full here.