1 Introduction

During a visit to a Persian shop in Sydney, I observed a conversation that illustrated the role of everyday objects in shaping social interactions. A regular customer, a general practitioner (GP), was discussing the health benefits of fresh vegetables, comparing his experiences in Iran with those in Australia. He explained how, in Iran, families often pick fresh vegetables from their gardens, emphasising their nutritional value, their richness in fibre, and their role in preventing chronic diseases such as heart disease. He highlighted the challenges of accessing such fresh produce and suggested shops like this Persian one play a crucial role in providing quality vegetables. While this might initially seem like a simple exchange about food, it reflects broader concerns. Everyday objects such as vegetables serve more than merely functional purposes; they mediate interpersonal relations and participate in broader discourses, including those surrounding health, cultural identity, and migration. This moment raises important questions: how do everyday objects mediate social relations? What role do they play in identity constructions and cultural practices? Can seemingly mundane everyday objects such as vegetables act as agents (also known as actants, see further) within networks of discourse, shaping and reflecting social dynamics?

To begin unpacking these questions, I turn to a site that is both analytically rich and personally meaningful. This Persian shop is not just a field site, but a space that resonates with my own personal and cultural identity. As someone of Persian background, I have long been familiar with this shop and its community. It serves not only as a place of commerce, but as a cultural and social hub where language, food, and identity converge in meaningful ways (Izadi, Reference Izadi2017, Reference Izadi2020, Reference Izadi, Rasmussen and v. Leeuwen2023; Lou, Reference Lou2017). Many of my participants expressed that the shop reminded them of ‘home’, evoking sensory and emotional ties to their lives in Iran. This aligns with Zhu Hua, Li Wei, and Lyons’ (Reference Zhu, Wei and Lyons2017) concept of the ‘node’, that is, a physical or symbolic space where translocal and translingual practices gather and are reconfigured. In this sense, the shop becomes a node of cultural continuity and identity negotiation for diasporic individuals navigating multiple socio-cultural worlds.

My connection to this site is shaped by a dual positionality: I draw on both an insider’s cultural familiarity (emic) and a reflexive, analytical stance as a researcher. While I maintain a critical distance in my analysis, this familiarity allows me to notice subtle cues, codes, and cultural references that might otherwise go unnoticed. Ethnographers have long emphasised the importance of engagement with research sites in order to understand what matters to community members (Hammersley & Atkinson, Reference Hammersley and Atkinson2019). Building on this, Sarangi (Reference Sarangi2007) introduces the notion of ‘thick participation’, following Geertz’s (Reference Geertz1973) ‘thick description’, highlighting how immersion can help identify socially and culturally meaningful practices. This study is grounded in that methodological ethos, drawing on a social semiotic perspective and analytical tools from Mediated Discourse Analysis (MDA) (Norris & Jones, Reference Norris and Jones2005; Scollon, Reference Scollon2001), to trace how everyday objects function in socially mediated activity.

Building on these methodological and conceptual foundations, I return to the broader questions raised earlier: objects are not merely passive elements in our surroundings; rather, they are active participants in meaning-making and social relations. Objects, from everyday items to culturally symbolic artefacts to even abstract thoughts and concepts (Norris, Reference Norris2004), play a crucial, yet often overlooked, role in mediating social practices, cultural meanings, and identity through their semiotic and material agency (Appadurai, Reference Appadurai2015; Latour, Reference Latour1996a, Reference Latour1996b, Reference Latour2005; Sayes, Reference Sayes2014). Drawing from Actor-Network Theory (ANT, see further), objects are conceptualised not as inert tools, but as actants, that is, entities that can initiate or modify action within networks of relations (Latour, Reference Latour2005). As Scollon (Reference Scollon2001) explains, they act as mediational means/tools that facilitate and shape how people engage with and interpret their cultural environments. For instance, an open box of fruit dates in a Persian shop may symbolise a religious ritual for a Persian-speaking customer, while serving as a sensory evaluation for an Anglo-Australian (Izadi, Reference Izadi2020). Despite their frequent invisibility in daily life, objects profoundly embody and influence societal structures, power dynamics, and identity formations through their culturally specific uses (Kopytoff, Reference Kopytoff and Appadurai1986; Miller, Reference Miller and Miller2005). Recognising the agency of objects is key to understanding their central role in constructing everyday social and cultural experiences, a role that is often overlooked.

To explore these questions further, this Element draws on frameworks such as ANT, MDA, material culture studies, and posthumanist applied linguistics to examine how objects, such as the vegetables in the Persian shop, function as active agents in shaping social identity, cultural practices, and transnational connections. These theoretical approaches highlight the complex interplay between materiality and discourse, showing how objects mediate social interactions and contribute to the construction of cultural norms and social relationships. In doing so, they challenge traditional distinctions between language and materiality, subject and object, and instead foreground the relational and distributed nature of agency. In the following sections, I first ground this discussion by elaborating on the concept of ‘nonhuman’ actants within ANT, which provides a critical framework for understanding how objects operate as active participants in social networks. I will then explore the entanglements of materiality and language, drawing on insights from MDA and material culture studies, followed by an analysis of Deleuze and Guattari’s (Reference Deleuze and Guattari1987) concept of assemblages, to better understand how materiality and agency function within dynamic social and cultural contexts.

2 Methodology and Analytical Tools

This section outlines the methodology and analytical tools used in the study. The primary framework, Linguistic Ethnography (LE), offers a detailed analysis of how language and communication practices are embedded within broader social and cultural contexts (Rampton, Reference Rampton2007). By combining ethnographic methods with discourse-analytic techniques, LE provides a comprehensive approach to understanding how meaning is constructed through interactions, institutional settings, and material objects. In addition, MDA is used to explore how material objects, such as traditional textiles in a Persian shop, act as mediational tools influencing social relations and practices. Together, LE and MDA offer an integrated perspective on the dynamic relationships between discourse, materiality, and agency. To operationalise these frameworks, ethnographic field notes were written immediately after each visit, capturing both verbal exchanges and contextual elements such as spatial arrangements, customer movement, and the placement and handling of material objects. Audio recordings of interactions were made using two unobtrusive digital devices and selectively transcribed using a combination of orthographic and simplified conversation-analytic conventions, with attention to pauses, overlaps, and prosodic features. Where Persian was spoken, the transcripts were translated into English, with careful attention to preserving pragmatic and cultural nuance. These transcripts were then thematically coded in conjunction with field notes, allowing for a triangulated analysis of participants’ talk, embodied practices, and their spatial-material context (see Izadi, Reference Izadi2020).

Although the data were collected between 2012 and 2014, the delay in reporting stems from the evolving nature of the theoretical and analytical frameworks used. Over the past decade, I have been refining my approach, particularly in relation to the integration of Linguistic Ethnography and Mediated Discourse Analysis and drawing on recent theoretical advancements in materiality and semiotics. This longitudinal engagement with the data has allowed for a more nuanced and conceptually robust analysis. Importantly, the themes explored such as diaspora, identity, language, and the role of material objects remain deeply relevant to current sociolinguistic and anthropological debates, particularly in multicultural and diasporic contexts like Australia. Rather than being outdated, the data provide a historically situated lens through which to understand enduring and still-evolving dynamics of belonging, agency, and cultural transmission.

Data were collected from interactions observed in a Persian shop in Sydney over a five-year period. This approach enables an examination of how agency is enacted in various social practices. Data collection occurred through over ninety visits between October 2012 and October 2014, with two strategically placed digital audio-recording devices capturing diverse interactions between shop-owners and customers. These recordings allowed for the analysis of both the interactions and the role of material objects, such as products imported from Iran, in shaping agency in these social settings. Qualitative analysis, including thematic coding and nexus analysis of recorded interactions and field notes, helped identify patterns of agency exhibited by both objects and individuals. By examining micro-interactions, the study reveals how material objects contribute to identity formation and engage with broader social meanings, such as cultural identity and health narratives.

In conducting this ethnographic study, I was acutely aware of my own positionality and the complex, often shifting roles I inhabited within the Persian shop. Drawing on Duranti’s (Reference Duranti1997, p. 99) distinction between passive and complete participant-observation, my approach moved fluidly between both modes. At times I sat back to observe interactions with minimal interference; at other moments, particularly in quieter times or with familiar customers, I actively engaged in conversations, asked questions, or reflected with the shop-owner after interactions. This hybrid role (researcher, participant, and at times perceived assistant) was not only strategic but necessary in building trust and accessing the deeper socio-cultural dynamics at play (Agar, Reference Agar1997). These fluid transitions helped surface the vernacular routines, speech practices, and informal literacies of everyday life in the shop, which may otherwise have gone unnoticed. Over time, my presence became normalised, allowing me to witness not just scripted exchanges but the subtle negotiations of identity, humour, and belonging that occurred in and around transactions.

Far from being a neutral observer, I was implicated in the field through my social ties with the shop-owners and the broader community. My familiarity with the setting and my visible, ongoing presence shaped how I was perceived: sometimes as an insider, sometimes as a researcher, and occasionally as an ambiguous presence that prompted hesitation or discomfort, particularly when participants noticed the recording signs. These moments underscored the ethical complexities of fieldwork and reminded me that full detachment was neither feasible nor desirable. Rather than claiming objective neutrality, I adopted a reflexive stance, critically assessing how my own assumptions, emotions, and positionality affected data collection and interpretation (Norris, Reference Norris2011, p. 73). This was especially important during politically sensitive conversations, where my silence was often a methodological choice to avoid influencing the flow of interaction. In such moments, awareness of my performative role enabled a form of ethical responsiveness that prioritised participant comfort and consent. Ultimately, I came to understand my role not as fixed but as performative and negotiated, shifting depending on context, participants, and the social rhythms of the shop. While I was not a full member of the community, my long-standing relationship with the shop-owners and prior experience in Persian commercial spaces afforded me a level of trust and access that enriched the data. This relational grounding, coupled with analytical distance, enabled me to observe how social identities and material practices intersect in diasporic commercial life, while also navigating the personal, political, and epistemological stakes of fieldwork in familiar terrain. At times, this meant working against my own instincts or suppressing disagreement to preserve the ethnographic moment. Yet it was precisely this tension, between proximity and distance, familiarity and estrangement, that sharpened my critical lens and deepened the interpretive value of the study.

The analysis also integrates interactional sociolinguistics, which conceptualises ‘conversational inference’ (Gumperz, Reference Gumperz, Tannen, Hamilton and Schiffrin2015, p. 313) as interactively achieved through diverse semiotic repertoires across expansive spatiotemporal contexts. This approach expands the analytical focus beyond face-to-face interactions, incorporating a broader view of how meaning is constructed. Gumperz’s construction of ‘repertoire’ extends beyond singularly labelled languages to encompass a variety of semiotic resources. He defines repertoire as encompassing ‘all the accepted ways of formulating messages’ (Gumperz, Reference Gumperz1964, pp. 137–138) and describes it as ‘the totality of linguistic forms regularly employed within the community in the course of socially significant interaction’ (Gumperz, Reference Gumperz1971, p. 182). Sociolinguists have since expanded this to include various communicative methods more than just ‘linguistic forms’. Rymes (Reference Rymes, Hornberger and McKay2010, p. 528) introduces the notion of ‘communicative repertoire’, which includes ‘the collection of ways individuals use language and literacy and other means of communication (gestures, dress, posture, or accessories) to function effectively in the multiple communities in which they participate’. Building on this, Blommaert and Backus (Reference Blommaert, Backus, d. Saint-Georges and Weber2013, p. 25; Bucholtz & Hall, Reference Bucholtz, Hall and Coupland2016) argue that ‘a repertoire is composed of a myriad of different communicative tools, with different degrees of functional specialisation. No single resource is a communicative panacea; none is useless’. These expanded notions of semiotic resources offer a richer understanding of objects and their capacity for meaning-making.

In addition, the analysis draws on the concept of small stories (De Fina & Georgakopoulou, Reference De Fina, Georgakopoulou, Fina and Georgakopoulou2015), which refers to fragmented, often co-constructed narratives that arise in everyday conversation. Unlike traditional, high-stakes narratives, small stories emerge spontaneously in informal contexts and are crucial to how participants position themselves, claim knowledge, and negotiate belonging. This lens is particularly productive in diasporic commercial spaces, where customers and shop-owners frequently engage in storytelling about food, memory, or migration that indexes broader identity processes (Izadi, Reference Izadi2020). Attention to these narrative moments enriches the analysis of agency and cultural transmission by capturing how social meaning is collaboratively assembled in interaction.

Drawing from these theoretical foundations, the next section explores how material objects function as agents in meaning-making. By analysing their semiotic and social roles, we gain deeper insight into how language, materiality, and agency shape agency and cultural identity within Persian commercial spaces.

3 Objects as Mediators in the Semiotic Landscape

This section begins with an analysis of two different Persian shop signs: one displaying the phrase ‘100% Halal’ (Figure 1) and the other featuring the Faravahar symbol (Figure 2), an ancient emblem of the Zoroastrian faith. The Faravahar, depicting a bearded man with an outstretched hand above wings emanating from a circle that symbolises eternity, carries profound cultural and historical significance. As cultural artefacts, both signs serve as material representations of specific beliefs and practices, deeply rooted in the cultural landscapes of their respective communities. Importantly, these signs are part of a larger semiotic landscape (Jaworski & Thurlow, Reference Jaworski and Thurlow2010) that surrounds and informs the shop environment, embedding individual signs within a broader field of linguistic, symbolic, and cultural resources that collectively construct the identity of the place and its community. This semiotic landscape shapes how these signs are interpreted and how they function socially, as they contribute to the ongoing discourse within Persian commercial and diasporic settings. The signs therefore do not only point to fixed religious or cultural identities but rather participate in the negotiation of such identities within a fluid and dynamic communicative environment. This perspective offers a broader lens for examining how material objects such as shop signs function as semiotic resources that shape and reflect cultural identities within Persian commercial spaces. The presence of the ‘100% Halal’ sign materialises moral and religious orientations in the shop, shaping normative expectations and signalling a particular ethical terrain to customers. Similarly, the Faravahar symbol mediates collective memory and spiritual identity, thus enrolling the shop environment in broader moral-political assemblages.

Figure 1 The 100% Halal sign as an actant

Figure 2 The Faravahar symbol as an actant

If we conceptualise the ‘100% Halal’ sign and the Faravahar symbol as instances of mediational tools and ‘frozen action’ (Norris, Reference Norris2004), which refers to actions carried out by social actors at an earlier time and preserved for future interactions, then these signs might correspond to what Latour (Reference Latour2005) refers to as ‘intermediaries’. Latour (Reference Latour2005) distinguishes between ‘intermediaries’, which pass meaning unchanged, and ‘mediators’, which transform or modify the meaning as it passes through them. In this case, while the signs originate from social actors, their presence actively reshapes meanings and social relations in the shop context, thus acting as mediators rather than passive intermediaries. Drawing on Latour’s (Reference Latour2005) framework of actants and Cooren’s (Reference Cooren2004) notion of ‘textual agency’, these signs actively shape behaviours and embed cultural meanings, functioning as mediators that influence the social fabric of their contexts. As mediators, these signs do not simply transmit pre-existing meanings; rather, they participate in the transformation and circulation of meaning in relation to both context and audience. In this sense, they can be seen as actively participating (hybrid actants, Latour, Reference Latour1993) in the social and cultural practices they represent, steering interactions by orienting them towards specific cultural values or religious principles.

This agency is inseparable from the semiotic landscape in which these signs are situated: they do not operate in isolation but interact dynamically with other signs, texts, and cultural markers visible in the environment, collectively constructing a social space that is culturally and ideologically meaningful. This dynamic of mediation highlights their role in shaping the actions and perceptions (Lou, Reference Lou2016) of individuals and extends beyond simple representation to position them as agents in the social landscape.

Building on this conceptualisation, we can further examine their status as ‘objects’. If we define ‘objects’ as tangible or intangible entities (Izadi & Luke, Reference Izadi and Luke2025) that are capable of action or are attributed with agency (Cerulo, Reference Cerulo2009, Reference Cerulo2011), it becomes evident that these signs qualify as such. Here, the term ‘object’ extends beyond physical entities to encompass non-human ‘things’, such as symbols, signs, and cultural artefacts. Drawing on Cooren’s (2010) philosophical notion of ‘objects’, which encompasses non-human figures or characters that carry meaning and exert influence, these signs emerge as distinct types of ‘things’. For instance, the ‘100% Halal’ sign actively fosters a sense of trust and religious alignment among customers, while the Faravahar (Figure 2) evokes cultural identity and historical continuity. The materiality of the ‘100% Halal’ sign shapes social behaviours by aligning individuals with moral and religious codes. It not only functions as a symbol of religious correctness but also mediates social cohesion within Muslim communities, reinforcing class distinctions and in-group identities. Their role as objects is further amplified by their embeddedness in the semiotic landscape, where their presence alongside other signs contributes to a multilayered environment of meaning-making that resonates with viewers and customers on multiple levels – religious, cultural, social, and commercial.

As non-human agents, these signs embody indexicality, which references specific cultural or religious contexts through their mere presence (Silverstein, Reference Silverstein2003). They also function as qualisigns in Peirce’s (Reference Peirce1995) semiotics, representing qualities or characteristics that evoke emotions such as trust or cultural pride, which resonate with viewers. The ‘100% Halal’ sign, for example, indexes both religious correctness and the moral alignment of the restaurant with Muslim dietary laws, while the Faravahar sign invokes the cultural and historical continuity of Zoroastrianism, indexing a specific identity tied to its community. These indexical signs exemplify Peirce’s idea of firstness, where the sign stands as a potential quality, inviting interpretation without determining a definitive meaning. As objects, these signs, though static, continuously engage with their viewers, offering interpretations that shape social interactions and cultural identities. In this way, they transcend being mere identity markers and instead mediate and reinforce cultural and social norms, simultaneously illustrating the dynamic interplay between cultural artefacts and social agency. This interpretative openness contributes to their affective force, allowing viewers to attribute personal and communal meanings to the signs and engage with them on a visceral level. The semiotic landscape thus functions as a contextual frame, allowing these signs to be read not only as isolated objects but as part of a network of signs that collectively produce social meaning and identity in the Persian diasporic space.

Similarly, the Faravahar symbol (Figure 2) functions as a cultural agent deeply embedded in the temporal and spatial dimensions of Zoroastrian heritage and broader Iranian identity. Its placement on the shop sign transcends mere decoration; it actively fosters a connection to ancient Persia and its cultural landscapes, evoking a sense of authenticity and historical value (Pietikäinen et al., Reference Pietikäinen, Jaffe, Kelly-Holmes and Coupland2016). This connection situates the symbol within a broader temporal framework, where it embodies the enduring values and philosophies of Zoroastrianism, such as the triad of ‘Good Thoughts, Good Words, and Good Deeds’. These principles are not abstract ideals but are integrated into the daily practices of the shop-owner, as evidenced by their customer interactions and ethical business practices. Notably, the symbol mediates interactions in unexpected ways, as observed when non-Persian-speaking customers enquire about its meaning. This curiosity transforms the Faravahar symbol into an active participant in cross-cultural dialogue, linking the materiality of the symbol with its social and cultural significance. Through these exchanges, the owner explains its historical and religious significance, creating a space where the symbol bridges cultural gaps and facilitates an understanding of Zoroastrian philosophy. In this way, the symbol also evokes nostalgia, calling on a shared history and cultural continuity that resonates with both the owner and customers. This relational function positions the Faravahar not only as a site of memory but as a prompt for narrative exchange, a node around which stories of identity and belonging are shared and reconstructed.

Here, we observe the ‘thingness’ (Heidegger, 1935 in Saurma-Jeltsch, Reference Saurma-Jeltsch, Saurma-Jeltsch and Eisenbeiß2010) of the Faravahar, not merely as a physical artefact but as an entity embedded in a specific cultural, temporal, and spatial landscape, with its own agency. Crucially, this embedding situates the Faravahar within the Persian semiotic landscape of the shop’s locale, where it converses with other cultural signs, linguistic markers, and the broader environment, thus participating in the production of a culturally rich semiotic field that is meaningful for both insiders and outsiders.

From an ontological perspective, the Faravahar embodies what Henare et al. (Reference Henare, Holbraad and Wastell2007) view as a holistic understanding of ‘thingness’, where objects are not just connected to human societies but are deeply intertwined with local places, specific times, and unique cultural landscapes. This situatedness allows the symbol to transcend static objecthood and emerge as a ‘mediator’ of cultural practices, historical continuity, and moral values. Its presence evokes what Bourdieu (Reference Bourdieu1985) might consider an act of distinction: the symbol asserts a unique cultural identity, setting the shop apart and embedding it within a rich cultural narrative that resists commodification (see also Jaworski, Reference Jaworski2015). The Faravahar also exemplifies the ‘power of resistance’ as its enduring presence resists erasure or dilution in the face of contemporary socio-political dynamics. Under Iran’s current regime, its presence may signify subtle resistance, a quiet assertion of cultural heritage and identity that challenges dominant discourses. This symbolic resistance amplifies the Faravahar’s role as an actant, actively shaping perceptions and reinforcing a sense of historical and cultural continuity in a modern diasporic setting.

In sum, the Faravahar and the ‘100% Halal’ sign are not merely markers of identity but are actants that mediate and sustain the interplay between materiality, morality, and cultural identity. Their agency lies in their ability to embed cultural norms, facilitate social interactions, and preserve moral codes, illustrating how objects dynamically participate in shaping the cultural and social fabric. Through these interactions, the Faravahar symbolises the intersection of cultural heritage, resistance, and social meaning. For diasporic communities, the Faravahar may be seen as an emblem of resistance to cultural assimilation (Izadi & Parvaresh, Reference Izadi and Parvaresh2016), while local Iranians may interpret it as a symbol of national pride or cultural continuity, in contrast to the government’s view of it as a contested symbol of pre-revolutionary identity. The Faravahar, in particular, exemplifies the ontological turn by embodying both its material and cultural essence, firmly anchored in time, place, and the landscapes of Zoroastrian heritage. Through its interaction with customers and its power to evoke curiosity and distinction, it highlights the interconnectedness of objects, agency, and social worlds, ultimately affirming its role as a vital contributor to cultural production and social meaning. This shift in focus allows us to explore how signs function not only as semiotic markers but also as active participants in the interaction. Integrating the concept of the semiotic landscape throughout this analysis underscores how these signs operate not only as individual markers but as components of a wider cultural and linguistic environment that shapes and is shaped by their presence and agency.

4 Material Objects and Institutional Agency in Practice

In contrast to the previous discussion of symbolic acts in cultural contexts, the following section turns to Extract 1, which takes place within a Persian shop, to highlight the mediating role of material objects in everyday social exchanges. While the Faravahar and the ‘100% Halal’ sign serve as cultural symbols, this extract shifts attention to another object – the recording sign – which plays a key role in governing behaviour, ensuring ethical practices, and influencing social dynamics. This orientation is initially prompted by a sign indicating that recording is in progress, which becomes a catalyst for the interaction that follows. To clarify from the outset, the recording device itself, along with the sign, will be analysed not only as a technical tool but as a material object whose presence is socially and ethically consequential. The interaction illustrates how the recording device enters the participants’ shared attention, influences their behaviour, and structures the discourse through its institutional and ethical affordances. This example demonstrates how such objects function beyond mere representation, carrying both symbolic and institutional meanings.

A brief reflection on contradictory agencies of material objects, for example, the Halal sign unifying Muslims while simultaneously delineating religious boundaries, can further enrich this analysis. In this regard, the Halal sign not only affirms shared values among Muslim customers but also introduces a boundary that distinguishes them from others, demonstrating how the same object can simultaneously include and exclude. Through the lens of Extract 1, we can observe how objects carry not just symbolic meanings but also institutional and legal functions that shape human behaviour.

In this interaction, a family visits a Persian shop where I collected my data. The group consists of an older brother (OB), a younger brother (YB), and the shop-owners (SOW and SOH). The shop-owners are a Persian-Australian couple who, at the time of data collection, had been running the store for approximately ten years and continue to operate it today. Having migrated to Australia over four decades ago, they are long-term residents who identify strongly with both their Persian heritage and their Australian context. Persian is their first language and the main language used in private and behind-the-counter conversations, while English is used fluently and regularly in customer interactions. Their bilingual repertoire and bicultural positioning shape the linguistic environment of the shop, influencing not only their communicative practices but also the broader semiotic and cultural landscape in which the interaction unfolds.

Extract 1 occurs at the counter where the family is about to pay. Throughout the interaction, the older brother repeatedly suggests that the younger brother try ice cream, but the younger brother resists. As part of the exchange, the older brother (in line 1) draws attention to a sign on the counter, stating, ‘You know we’ve got a recorder here. He ((the researcher)) told us earlier. Look at that sign. You’re being recorded here. He ((the researcher)) told us.’ The sign, prominently displayed at the counter, reads: ‘Your interaction is being recorded. If you don’t want your interaction to be recorded, please let the researcher or the shop-owners know.’ The reference to the sign introduces a new dynamic into the interaction, as it shifts the participants’ focus to the ongoing recording and its implications. This sign can be analysed as a ‘mediational means’ (Scollon, Reference Scollon2001), as it functions as a material object that shapes and mediates the interaction. Its agency lies not in its physical presence alone but in how it is imbued with institutional meanings and norms. The sign represents more than a simple mechanism for attracting participants’ attention and securing their consent. It symbolises the culmination of a rigorous process, as it took the researcher four to five months to obtain ethics approval from the university before being allowed to record interactions. This approval process involved meeting strict legal and ethical standards, underscoring the sign’s role as a legal document embedded within broader institutional frameworks. As such, the sign embodies the intersection of research ethics, institutional oversight, and the researcher’s accountability, making it an actant that structures and governs the interaction in significant ways. Thus, the presence of the sign and the wording dictate certain actions and expectations, such as notifying the researcher or shop-owners if a customer does not wish to be recorded. This indicates the objectified role of the sign within this specific socio-cultural and institutional context. The illocutionary force of the sign (Austin, Reference Austin1962) operates as a reminder to customers and highlights the recording process while maintaining an ethical safeguard. It does not merely display information but actively engages the participants, urging them to act or respond based on its content. The location of the sign on the counter, where transactions occur, further emphasises its agency and makes it central to the interaction.

The role of the sign can be further understood through the theoretical lenses of Latour (Reference Latour1996a, Reference Latour1996b, Reference Latour2005), Appadurai (Reference Appadurai2015), and Scollon (Reference Scollon2001). From Latour’s (Reference Latour2005) perspective, the sign can be understood as an actant, as it participates in the network of interactions, influencing and organising the behaviour of the participants. Its materiality and positioning afford it the power to shape the discourse and remind the customers of the normative framework established by the ethics committee and the researcher’s presence. Similarly, in light of Appadurai’s (Reference Appadurai2015) concept of the mediant, the sign serves as a node (Zhu et al., Reference Zhu, Wei and Lyons2017) where different forces and contexts converge. It connects the local context of the shop with broader institutional and ethical frameworks, enabling the participants to navigate their roles within this mediated space. The sign’s capacity to ‘do things without words’, that is, ‘its performative force’ (Caron & Caronia, Reference Caron and Caronia2007, p. 36), is evident in how it prompts questions, laughter, and reflection among the participants, as seen in lines 2–16. Ultimately, the meaning of the sign and its agency are not static but emerge dynamically through its interaction with people, objects, and contexts. The interplay of the participants’ responses and the sign’s presence illustrates how material objects can embody and enforce social norms, which demonstrates their active role in shaping discourse and action.

Apart from the sign, two other objects in Extract 1 stand out in shaping the discourse: the ice cream and the recording device. Both objects play active roles in mediating the interaction, influencing the customers’ behaviour, and structuring the interaction in ways that are culturally and ethically significant. The ice cream is more than a simple consumable item in this interaction; it becomes a point of negotiation and social interaction between the older brother and the younger brother. OB repeatedly encourages YB to try the ice cream, but YB resists. This repeated focus on the ice cream introduces an element of agency for both customers. OB’s insistence is a form of social influence, which subtly guides the conversation towards the ice cream as a social object. YB’s resistance, in turn, reflects his autonomy, as he pushes back against OB’s suggestion and asserts control over his own choices. In this sense, the ice cream functions as a mediator of social roles, revealing the dynamics between the two brothers, OB takes on a more dominant role by persistently suggesting the ice cream, while YB resists, asserting his personal agency. Moreover, the ice cream serves as a distraction from the more formal, institutional aspects of the interaction, such as the ethical implications of the recording. As the conversation shifts toward humour and light-heartedness about the ice cream, the tension created by the presence of the recording device is temporarily diffused. This light-hearted focus on the ice cream allows the participants to interact more casually, while the underlying ethical structure remains implicit in the background. This illustrates how objects, like the ice cream, are not passive but can actively shape the flow of interaction by providing a means of distraction or relief from more serious topics.

The recording device also plays a central role in structuring the ethical and institutional framework of the interaction. Unlike the ice cream, which facilitates social bonding and negotiation, the recording device introduces a layer of formality and accountability to the exchange. The device, by enabling the documentation of the conversation, makes the participants aware of being observed. In line 22, when YB questions the shop-owner, asking, ‘Are you saying it because it’s recorded and you wanna look good?’ the recording device is directly implicated in the interaction. Here, the device is not just a passive tool for capturing data but an actant that shapes social norms and influences behaviour through its embedded ethical and institutional functions.

From Latour’s (Reference Latour2005) perspective, both the ice cream and the recording device are actants within a network of interactions, each influencing the customers’ behaviour and the flow of the interaction. The ice cream functions as an object that mediates social dynamics, while the recording device acts as an object that enforces institutional norms. Together, these objects highlight how material things, whether mundane or institutional, carry the performative force to shape discourse, action, and interaction.

The transition between Extract 1 and Extract 2 marks a distinct shift in both physical and discursive context, where the focus moves from object influence to the centrality of tobacco as a subject of discourse. Extract 2 takes place at the entrance near the cash register where the tobacco is positioned. SW is standing behind the cash register. The interaction order is in small ‘withs’ (Scollon & Scollon, Reference Scollon and Scollon2004), an event in which two or more people are seen as being together with one another and having their focus on their own interaction (see also Izadi, Reference Izadi2015, Reference Izadi2017), on the border of formal and informal whose participants have relatively equal status in their right to hold the floor, and the topic of conversation is ‘tobacco’. However, their historical bodies (Scollon & Scollon, Reference Scollon and Scollon2004) (their habitus) may be significantly different because the shop-owner is perhaps viewed as the connoisseur of the items of the shop and of Persian values, with knowledge about a particular product (mediational means) that requires knowledge of the standard variety. The participants in this interaction speak English.

While paying at the counter, the customer has already given the shop-owner her husband’s credit card and suddenly changes her mind, asking the shop-owner whether she could use her own instead in line 1: ‘that’s my husband’s sees the smoke on this card bill hhh’, followed by a laugh. Here, from an MDA perspective, the husband’s credit card has become an important mediational means. Following Latour’s ANT, the credit card is not merely an object but an actant, shaping the interaction and mediating the relationship between the absent husband, the customer, and the shop-owner. Even though the husband is not present, he is brought into play as part of a distributed agency where the material artefact (the card) acts as an extension of his surveillance and authority. The customer provides an account of why she cannot use her husband’s credit card: ‘He doesn’t like me smoking’ (line 1), situating the card as an ‘inscription device’ (Latour & Woolgar, Reference Latour and Woolgar1986) that carries and enforces moral and social constraints beyond the immediate transaction.

In Extract 2, we can observe a prime example of an actant at work. The credit card is not merely a passive object facilitating transactions; it is an active participant in shaping social dynamics and relationships. It exerts agency by mediating power relations, influencing the customer’s behaviour, and invoking the absent husband’s authority. Building on Miller’s (Reference Miller and Miller2005) perspective on materiality, the credit card is not simply an economic tool, but a material object embedded in broader socio-moral structures, reinforcing gendered expectations, financial control, and moral surveillance. Here, the card enables a purchase. It materialises an external authority, which shapes the interaction and positions the customer in a moment of moral and financial negotiation. From an MDA (Scollon, Reference Scollon2001) perspective, the credit card serves as a historically shaped mediational tool, which carries with it a sedimented history of social norms and financial governance. The participants at this site of engagement have different relationships with this actant – while the shop-owner engages with it as a functional tool within the commercial setting, the customer encounters it as a symbol of constraint, which creates a tension between personal autonomy and spousal oversight. These intersecting networks of practice (Latour, Reference Latour2005) expose the entanglement of materiality, discourse, and agency, illustrating how seemingly mundane objects actively structure human interactions and moral negotiations.

Furthermore, it seems that on account of the credit card as an actant and mediational tool in this interaction, the backstage activities may have become frontstage ones. Originating from Goffman (Reference Goffman1959), the twin notions of ‘frontstage’ and ‘backstage’ suggest that individuals in their daily dealings have two different modes of presenting themselves to others, namely one when they are ‘on the stage’ (frontstage) and the other when they let down their guard (backstage), which is ‘out of bounds to members of the audience’ (p.79). Here, the credit card as an actant not only mediates but actively restructures the interactional script, pulling the customer’s private concerns (her smoking habits, marital surveillance) into the public arena of the shop. This shift highlights how the materiality of the card brings backstage concerns into the frontstage, making private matters visible in the public sphere of the transaction. In doing so, it functions as a non-human participant, which reinforces the performative nature of social order and shifts the boundaries between personal autonomy and institutionalised control.

The frontstage activities now necessitate different rules of the game (see Blommaert & De Fina, Reference Blommaert, De Fina, Fina, Ikizoglu and Wegner2017) that change completely while the new rule of the game simultaneously displays different identities of the participants present in the discourse at hand and, more importantly, those who are not present (the husband, for instance), that arise from the ‘intertextual’ (Blommaert, Reference Blommaert2005; Silverstein, Reference Silverstein2003) relations between the mediational means and the linguistic utterances produced by the participants. The interaction order, therefore, is not simply defined by immediate co-presence but by the distributed agency of absent others, mediated by the credit card as a technological and semiotic device. For instance, at the start of the sequence (line 1), the customer accomplishes the action of displaying concern that she does not wish her husband to find out that she is smoking. This creates a moment of friction between competing actants within a network: the husband’s surveillance, the customer’s autonomy, and the shop-owner’s professional role, all intersecting with moral positioning.

After the customer has stated her problem and entered the frontstage (i.e., not allowed to smoke), it would be expected to be followed by compliance on the part of the shop-owner. Nonetheless, in line 2, after a pause of two seconds, her account is not taken up by the shop-owner. The shop-owner then directly goes to the business and asks whether it is a credit card, a signature, or a pin in line 4. This disalignment could be seen as a moment where competing actants and mediational means shape the trajectory of interaction: the customer seeks affective alignment through self-disclosure, while the shop-owner adheres to the transactional frame imposed by the material and discursive agency of the credit card. The card, as an actant, enforces a shift back to the commercial logic of the transaction, resisting the emotional framing attempted by the customer. It seems that the shop-owner is fulfilling the category-bound ‘duties’ (Sacks, Reference Sacks1992) of expressing concern here as a (responsible) moral actor within a network in which both human and non-human actants interact to structure the discourse.

Due to the routine nature of the service interactions at least in the shop in question, expectations about the roles and identities are rather fixed. Accordingly, deviation from the pre-established roles may give rise to negative potential imputations of identities that produce negative consequences for the deviant customer, for example, a disobedient wife. Through the lens of ANT, the shop is not merely a backdrop but an active node (Zhu et al., Reference Zhu, Wei and Lyons2017) in a network of human and non-human actants, shaping the moral and transactional landscape. The credit card, as an actant, operates within this network to link economic exchanges with social discipline, which reinforces gendered norms and financial surveillance. In this sense, the material environment, comprising the shop, the card, and the customer’s relational ties, becomes an assemblage through which power and social order are enacted.

Building on the interplay of objects and agency in Extract 2, Extract 3 shifts focus to another scenario in which documents, specifically a power of attorney, become pivotal in mediating social and transactional relations. This interaction begins with a customer who frequently visits the shop, engaging the shop-owners in a discussion about the sale of land in northern Iran, bringing the concept of delegation and legal documentation to the forefront.

In Extract 3, a customer who regularly visits the shop while paying at the counter engages the shop-owners in a conversation about a piece of land he owns in northern Iran, in the Mazandaran province. The shop-owner (the wife) mentions she also has land in that region, and the customer notes that, since they are based in Australia, they cannot personally sell it. Instead, they would need to grant a power of attorney to someone in Iran to take care of the sale (line 2). The shop-owner (the husband) acknowledges this with certainty (line 3). At this juncture, the conversation highlights the role of objects and documents as actants in the exchange. Specifically, the power of attorney acts as a material entity that mediates the human interaction by enabling the transfer of responsibility. In line with Latour’s (Reference Latour1996b) view, the act of delegation is not merely a human action but involves a network of actants, where the document itself becomes part of the action. The power of attorney, as a material object, not only facilitates the delegation of responsibility but also acts as an enabler of agency, moving beyond the human actors to mediate the transaction in a meaningful way. Here, Latour’s concept of actants helps to underscore how human agency is intertwined with non-human objects (such as documents), forming a hybrid network where both contribute to the outcome.

Importantly, this interaction also invites us to consider the agency of immaterial-semiotic forms such as the concept of legal delegation, the symbolic authority of the father as a proxy, or the institutional procedure it invokes as non-material actants that shape and orient the exchange. These discursive forms, though lacking physical presence, are treated as real and consequential in the interaction, demonstrating how ‘objects’ in this study extend beyond tangible artefacts to include abstract semiotic and institutional formations. This is a figurational relationship, according to Manning (Reference Manning, Cavanaugh and Shankar2017, p. 231), where language (the conversation) and non-language (the document) work in tandem to produce meaning and action in a shared semiotic space. The document is not just a static object, but a semiotic act that becomes meaningful in the context of the social ritual of the transaction. The materiality of the document is thus both a literal and figurative actant in the network of the transaction.

This understanding resonates with Appadurai’s (Reference Appadurai2015) view of mediation and materiality. Appadurai asserts that mediation and materiality are inseparable; mediation produces materiality as its effect, and materiality is the site through which the operations of mediation reveal meaning. The power of attorney, in this case, is an embodiment of mediation (i.e., it is a material object that holds significance not in isolation, but through its function in this specific practice). Yet, alongside the physical document, the abstract legal structures it invokes – like authority, representation, and transferability – circulate within the discourse and mediate relations as forcefully as the paper itself. It is through this legal document that the process of selling the land is mediated, both materially and symbolically, between the shop-owners and the person handling the sale. As Appadurai notes, materiality (the document) does not pre-exist the mediation (the delegation of responsibility), and this dynamic interaction between materiality and mediation shapes the way this transaction unfolds. Here, the material semiotic relationship is strongly indexical, where the document and the language exchanged are tied through both pragmatic figuration and iconicity. The material object (the document) and the language exchanged create a semiotic ecology (Manning, Reference Manning, Cavanaugh and Shankar2017) in this context of delegation.

This semiotic ecology is not limited to objects in the narrow physical sense. It encompasses a broader spectrum of actants such as imagined roles (e.g., the father as legal agent), institutional logics (e.g., real estate and bureaucratic norms), and abstract legal categories (e.g., ‘ownership’ or ‘transferability’), all of which mediate social and transactional relations. These include both tangible entities such as documents and conceptual forms like the notion of ‘giving power’ or the imagined presence of an agent. Structured by conventionalised ties between material artefacts and discursive practices, the document in this context not only mediates the transaction but also acts as a participant in delegation, embodying indexical and iconic relations.

It is here that Pennycook’s posthumanist applied linguistics comes into play, emphasising the materiality of the world and the non-human actants involved in language practices. In this interaction, language is not merely a medium for human communication, but a tool that connects humans with the material world and non-human entities (such as the power of attorney). Language becomes a vehicle for mediating material practices, extending beyond human-centred frameworks. The power of attorney, as a tangible material object, enables language practices to produce practical effects, acting as a bridge between human agency and legal materiality. Simultaneously, abstract legal notions – such as ‘authority’ ‘ownership’, ‘responsibility’, and ‘representation’ – function as immaterial, but agentive, elements that structure the interaction and shape possible outcomes. These are not secondary or derivative; rather, they are constitutive forces within the exchange. This illustrates how indexical and iconic figurations (Harkness, Reference Harkness2015) are at work within this exchange, where the power of attorney becomes a material semiotic form linking human agency to the non-human world, creating a network of actants that shapes the transaction. The pragmatic aspects of language and the materiality of objects in this case highlight a sustained figurational relationship that emerges through both indexical and iconic connections, providing a dynamic understanding of agency and materiality as intertwined in human interaction.

Shifting focus to a new interaction in Extract 4, we encounter another instance where material forces, such as humidity, shape both human actions and the handling of objects. In this case, the customer’s question about shelled walnuts prompts the shop-owner to explain how environmental conditions affect their storage practices, which shows the role of material factors in decision-making.

In Extract 4, a regular Persian-speaking customer interacts with a shop-owner, enquiring about shelled walnuts. The shop-owner responds by explaining that, due to the high humidity in Sydney, they keep the walnuts sealed to prevent them from absorbing unwanted smells. This explanation points to the influence of material and environmental factors such as humidity and packaging on everyday decisions in the shop. Importantly, these elements do not operate in isolation or merely background the human interaction. Rather, these material and environmental conditions form part of a broader assemblage comprising multiple human and non-human entities: the humidity, the sealed packaging, the walnuts themselves, and even the physical space (the floor and the air) where the interaction takes place. Each of these entities plays a distinctive role in shaping the interaction, but their agency and influence vary depending on their capacities and modes of participation.

Following an actor-network perspective, both humidity and the sealed packaging function as actants that co-produce meaning and material practice. Humidity, as an environmental force, predominantly shapes the conditions under which human and non-human actors operate, exerting a background pressure that constrains and influences decisions and practices without direct intervention in the conversation. Meanwhile, the packaging acts more directly by mediating the relationship between the walnuts, their environment, and the customer, participating actively in the unfolding interaction by preserving the walnuts’ quality and symbolising order and cleanliness. Together, they form an assemblage of interdependent entities, as described by Deleuze and Guattari (Reference Deleuze and Guattari1987), where human and non-human elements coalesce to produce specific outcomes: the walnuts’ quality, the shop-owner’s reasoning, and the customer’s understanding of the interaction.

The packaging, through its materiality, protects the walnuts from the ‘danger’ of humidity, a force that destabilises the walnuts’ intended order (dry, fresh, and odour-free), thus maintaining the integrity of the assemblage. This dual agency aligns with Mary Douglas’ (Reference Douglas2002) concept of ‘dirt’ as ‘matter out of place’. In this context, humidity symbolises disorder, which threatens the structured environment of the shop and its goods. The packaging acts as a symbolic and material ritual to restore order, akin to Douglas’ argument that systems of purity and pollution reflect larger cultural classifications and practices. By sealing the walnuts, the shop-owner enacts a ‘cleansing’ ritual to ward off the ‘pollution’ of unwanted smells and moisture. This highlights how material (humidity) and symbolic practices (cleanliness/order) are interconnected. Just as Douglas argued that dirt reinforces social classifications, here the shop-owner’s actions highlight the broader cultural logic of food preservation and environmental adaptation, emphasising the interplay of material forces and symbolic systems.

Crucially, this interaction allows us to distinguish between entities that are merely talked about and those that actively participate in or shape the conversation itself.Footnote ¹ The walnuts serve as the topic of enquiry (referents that anchor the exchange), but they do not structure the logic of the interaction. In contrast, the roles of humidity and packaging are qualitatively different: they are not only referenced but invoked as causal agents. That is, they are mobilised by the shop-owner to justify his storage practices, and in doing so, they shape both the material action and the conversational trajectory. This contrast illustrates that within an assemblage, not all actants contribute in the same way, nor do they exert the same semiotic or material force.

To sharpen this distinction, we can consider how non-human participants in this assemblage differ in their forms of agency. Some such as the sealed packaging are explicitly named and semiotically loaded, functioning as discursively symbolic participants. The packaging not only preserves the walnuts but also conveys a symbolic order tied to cleanliness, containment, and professionalism. Others (e.g., humidity) operate at the level of environmental conditioning. While not always foregrounded in discourse, humidity sets the material parameters under which other agents must operate, influencing decisions and behaviours through ambient pressure. Still others such as the floor and the air function as latent ambient participants: unnamed, unmarked, yet materially necessary to the enactment of the interaction. Their agency is non-discursive, shaping the space in which action unfolds. In this way, we can propose a tripartite but overlapping classification of non-human participation (Sayes, Reference Sayes2014): the discursively symbolic (e.g., the sealed packaging), the condition-setting (e.g., humidity), and the latent ambient (e.g., the floor and air). While the packaging is explicitly referenced and imbued with symbolic and moral significance, humidity surfaces only when necessary to explain a choice, for example, its influence otherwise backgrounded. The floor and the air, in contrast, remain unnamed, yet they structure the encounter by enabling movement, proximity, and co-presence. Recognising this range of participation allows us to move beyond reductive accounts of materiality and instead attend to the variable salience, intentionality, and semiotic visibility of actants in situated practice.

While the previous interaction illustrates the intertwined roles of material and symbolic forces in shaping discourse, Extract 5 offers another example where material objects, in this case saffron, actively mediate communication, shaping both linguistic practices and cultural knowledge. In Extract 5, the interaction occurs at the counter, where a Persian shop-owner engages with an Indian couple who have travelled 50 kilometres specifically to this shop to purchase saffron. C1 and C2 are a married couple originally from India, and they regularly shop at this Persian store. In a brief conversation before the recorded interaction, they expressed their appreciation for the shop, not only because its products resonate with their own cultural practices, but also due to the warmth and friendliness of the shop-owners. I had the opportunity to speak with them before and after the recorded interaction, which provided additional context for their engagement with the shop-owner’s expertise. This exchange is shaped by both linguistic and material practices, as saffron functions as a mediational tool – not merely a commodity but an active participant in the interaction. Rather than being a passive object, saffron mediates cultural transmission, embedding itself within the discourse as an actant that structures communication and shapes social dynamics. The shop-owner’s detailed instructions on preserving and preparing saffron (lines 6–7, 9, 17, 23) illustrate how the substance actively shapes the exchange, influencing both the shop-owner’s discourse and the couple’s understanding of its value and use. The couple’s initial lack of knowledge about grinding saffron (lines 10, 14, 16) highlights how objects themselves generate epistemic shifts, prompting adjustments in human practice. As Latour (Reference Latour1996a, Reference Latour1996b, Reference Latour2005) contends, objects act within networks of relations, not as passive entities, or mere intermediaries but as mediators that actively shape socio-material assemblages.

The interaction highlights how saffron’s agency is not only expressed through its material properties but also through the discourse that surrounds its preparation and preservation. The shop-owner’s repeated emphasis on grinding saffron (lines 9, 13, 17, 21, 23) illustrates how linguistic and material practices jointly co-constitute meaning, enacting what Sayes (Reference Sayes2014) and ANT scholars describe as objects mediating action, rather than merely enabling it. The imperative nature of the shop-owner’s directives (e.g., ‘You have to put it in the freezer or fridge’, line 6; ‘Just ground it very finely’, line 9) exemplifies how linguistic formulations do not merely describe material actions but actively structure them. These directives, in turn, align with saffron’s agency in the interaction, as its preservation and use necessitate precise material and linguistic practices.

Following Sayes’ (Reference Sayes2014) typology, saffron functions as (1) a condition of sociality, providing a platform for interaction where advice is exchanged, traditions are recalled, and gestures of care are enacted such as discussions about authenticity, proper use, or sourcing; (2) a mediator of action, shaping everyday culinary routines by introducing new affordances and constraints, from careful storage in the fridge to the symbolic weight it adds to a dish; and (3) a participant in a moral-political assemblage, entangled in discourses of gendered care, domestic responsibility, and cultural value, where its presence signals attentiveness, generosity, or propriety in household management. In this network, the fridge acts as an important actant, not merely storing saffron but actively maintaining its potency and reinforcing the shop-owner’s epistemic authority.

This interplay underscores how material objects mediate discourse, a dynamic captured in scholarship on language materiality (Cavanaugh & Shankar, Reference Cavanaugh and Shankar2014; Shankar & Cavanaugh, Reference Shankar, Cavanaugh, Shankar and Cavanaugh2017), which emphasises that linguistic forms are deeply embedded within material realities. The shop-owner’s use of gestures to demonstrate the grinding process (line 17) further solidifies this relationship, reinforcing how language operates through embodied and object-oriented practices rather than merely serving as a vehicle for abstract knowledge. The epistemological configuration that emerges here is distributed: knowledge is not housed in the shop-owner alone but co-produced through her interactions with saffron, the fridge, the grinder, and the couple’s prior practices. This reflects ANT’s commitment to distributed agency and Sayes’ claim that attributing agency to nonhumans involves tracing their entanglement in social relations.

Saffron’s agency in this interaction is not only realised through its material properties and linguistic framing but also through the shifting configurations of human and nonhuman elements that shape everyday transactions. The Indian couple, the shop-owner, and the saffron itself form a dynamic assemblage in which each element influences the others. The couple’s prior use of saffron in milk (line 10) signifies an existing culinary practice, yet the shop-owner’s directives (lines 9, 13, 17, 21) reconfigure this assemblage by positioning grinding as essential to saffron’s potency. Alongside grinding, the directive to store saffron in the fridge (line 6) adds another layer to this assemblage, illustrating how human and nonhuman actants collaborate in the construction of culinary knowledge. This transformation is not unilateral but emerges from the interplay of discourse and materiality, aligning with Deleuze and Guattari’s (Reference Deleuze and Guattari1987) notion of assemblages as fluid networks of relations. The shop-owner’s knowledge, which draws from Persian culinary traditions, does not merely inform but actively restructures the couple’s engagement with saffron, demonstrating how objects, far from passive, shape human practices (Miller, Reference Miller and Miller2005). Crucially, this transformation is dialogic (Bakhtin, Reference Bakhtin, Emerson, Holquist and Holquist1982; Blommaert, Reference Blommaert2010) rather than one-directional. The couple’s participation, their questions (lines 14, 16) and responses (‘Oh, I didn’t know that’, line 16; ‘That’s good’, line 18), demonstrates an active negotiation of meaning rather than passive reception. The shop-owner’s repeated insistence on grinding (lines 9, 13, 21) reflects a culturally embedded epistemology, in which material preparation is integral to culinary authenticity. Similarly, the instruction to refrigerate saffron situates it within a broader framework of preservation practices, where technological infrastructures (e.g., refrigeration) become entangled with traditional knowledge, reinforcing the mutual dependence of discourse and materiality.

From this perspective, saffron operates as a mediant, co-constructed through its embeddedness in cultural and material contexts (Appadurai, Reference Appadurai2015). This analysis underscores how saffron, as an actant, actively structures discourse and practice, reinforcing the interdependence of language, materiality, and assemblages. Rather than simply transmitting cultural knowledge, the interaction reveals how such knowledge is dynamically reconstituted through engagements with material objects (Latour, Reference Latour1996a, Reference Latour1996b). In this case, saffron is not merely a commodity; it is an agent that mediates, influences and restructures culinary practice and cultural exchange. This perspective aligns with the broader literature on language materiality (Cavanaugh & Shankar, Reference Cavanaugh and Shankar2014; Shankar & Cavanaugh, Reference Shankar, Cavanaugh, Shankar and Cavanaugh2017) and assemblage theory (Deleuze & Guattari, Reference Deleuze and Guattari1987; Miller, Reference Miller and Miller2005), further illustrating how material objects serve as mediants in the ongoing negotiation of cultural practices. This shift exemplifies how mediants evolve within assemblages, influenced by the interplay of human agency and material affordances. Such a transformation exemplifies the evolving role of mediants within assemblages, shaped by the interplay of human agency and material affordances. This discussion of saffron’s agency within assemblages and its role as a mediant in cultural and material exchanges sets the stage for a broader examination of discourse and materiality in everyday interactions.

The next section expands this analysis by exploring how objects mediate transactional encounters and contribute to the negotiation of social and cultural meanings in commercial settings.

5 Entangling Discourse, Materiality, and Identity in Diasporic Service Encounters

Interactions in commercial spaces, such as service encounters, offer a rich site for analysing how language and materiality intersect. These exchanges are not merely transactional; rather, they are moments where cultural meanings are negotiated, contested, and reaffirmed. Through an analysis of Extracts 6–12, I examine how objects such as dates function as mediators in social interactions, revealing their capacity to structure discourse, shape participant dynamics, and contribute to the construction of cultural and material meanings.

Extract 6 presents an interaction between two customers (a Persian-speaking male and a female Anglo-Australian), both in their early thirties, and the shop-owner, which is characteristic of the ‘service encounter’ genre. The exchange revolves around business-oriented talk with a clear focus on achieving transactional goals, exemplifying what Bailey (Reference Bailey2000) describes as a ‘socially minimal service encounter’ (lines 1–8). However, such exchanges also serve as microcosms of larger socio-cultural dynamics, where objects, language, and participants reflect and reproduce cultural differences and intersections. Central to this interaction is the date, which at first glance might seem like a straightforward consumable item. Yet, when examined through the frameworks of actant theory (Latour, Reference Latour2005), objectification (Miller, Reference Miller and Miller2005), and the social life of things (Appadurai, Reference Appadurai and Appadurai1986, Reference Appadurai2015), the date reveals itself as a dynamic participant in the encounter, mediating cultural and social exchanges while shaping the interaction’s flow and meaning.

In this encounter, the date functions as a mediational means (Scollon, Reference Scollon2001), mediating the interaction between the shop-owner and the female customer. FC’s enquiry in line 2, ‘are these ones to taste?’ initiates an engagement with the date as an object of sensory curiosity and consumption (see Figure 3). By tasting the date (line 6), FC engages with it as a tangible, embodied experience. This aligns with Appadurai’s (Reference Appadurai and Appadurai1986) concept of how objects mediate cultural and economic flows. This sensory engagement is not merely an individual act but a linguistic and material negotiation, where the customer’s question frames the date as an uncertain object whose meaning needs to be discursively and materially constructed. This aligns with Shankar and Cavanaugh’s (Reference Shankar and Cavanaugh2012) view of the material dimensions of language, in which meaning emerges through interactional and semiotic processes that incorporate both discourse and the physical presence of objects. This sensory engagement is significant, as it blurs the boundaries between object and subject, bringing the embodied experience of taste into a shared social moment. The act of tasting itself becomes a culturally charged ritual (Mondada, Reference Mondada2018), particularly for FC, who might associate it with exploratory consumption, an act that situates her as both a participant in and an outsider to the cultural practice. For the Anglo-Australian FC, the date is likely perceived as an exotic product, one that symbolises a connection to a cultural realm outside her immediate experience. This perception of the date as ‘exotic’ may shape FC’s approach to the interaction, framing the act of consumption not only as an exploration of taste but also as a deeper engagement with cultural difference. This creates a moment of tasting that introduces a layer of cultural negotiation, positioning the date as a mediator between two worlds.

Figure 3 The dates on the counter

Yet, the date is not merely a static commodity here. From the perspective of actor-network theory (Latour, Reference Latour2005), the date emerges as an actant within this interaction, actively influencing the dynamics of the exchange. By shaping SOH’s response, both his reluctant tone (line 3) and his emphasis on freshness (line 5), the date asserts itself as an influential presence in the interaction. The shop-owner’s hesitation in line 3 can be interpreted as a moment of ambivalence, perhaps reflecting concerns about the customer’s genuine interest in the date or scepticism about the potential wastage of a sample. This hesitation might also indicate a broader anxiety about Western perceptions of ethnic products, raising questions about authenticity and the value of ‘exotic’ goods in a multicultural marketplace. His emphasis on freshness is not simply a descriptor but an invocation of cultural and economic value, reinforcing the ways in which linguistic and material signs co-construct meaning in service encounters. The notion of ‘freshness’ itself resonates with discourses of capital and labour, where food marketing strategies and commodity fetishism (Harvey, Reference Harvey1990) imbue certain food items with an aura of authenticity and value, which loosely aligns them with notions of quality and cultural heritage (Izadi, Reference Izadi2020; Johnston & Baumann, Reference Johnston and Baumann2014; Pietikäinen et al., Reference Pietikäinen, Jaffe, Kelly-Holmes and Coupland2016). The shop-owner’s somewhat reluctant response (line 3) and the subsequent emphasis on the date’s freshness (line 5) reflect the date’s capacity to shape not only the transactional flow but also the relational dynamics between the participants. The date mediates the shop-owner’s role as an expert in cultural knowledge and the customer’s position as a curious customer, subtly highlighting the asymmetry of their cultural positioning. This asymmetry is often present in cross-cultural service encounters, where ethnic products are subject to external perceptions of authenticity and value (Miller, Reference Miller and Miller2005).

In this case, FC’s positioning as an outsider reinforces power dynamics, as her engagement with the date is framed as a cultural exploration or exotic experience, which can reinforce the notion of ‘ethnic’ products as distinct from mainstream consumption. This perception of ‘exoticism’ underscores the tensions between the familiar and the foreign in consumer experiences, as FC’s consumption is framed as an exploration of cultural difference rather than as a routine act of purchasing. This asymmetry, however, is mitigated by the shared act of exchange, where the date facilitates not just communication but a temporary bridging of cultural identities. In doing so, the date becomes a liminal object, rooted in Iranian culture yet accessible through a universal sensory mode (taste) that transcends cultural barriers. Through this layered analysis, the date is revealed as a complex and multifaceted participant in the interaction, mediating sensory, cultural, and ritual dimensions. It exemplifies the entanglement of material objects with human practices, reminding us that even routine service encounters are rich with socio-cultural meaning, shaped by the interplay of objects, actors, and shared contexts. Moreover, the shop space itself contributes to the semiotic cues within the interaction. The placement of the dates near the counter invites engagement (see Figure 3), positioning the dates not only as a commodity for sale but also as a culturally significant item. This positioning reinforces the role of dates as a mediational means, encouraging customers to enquire and engage with them in ways that highlight their cultural significance.

The dates are imbued with deeper layers of meaning, functioning not only as sensory items for tasting and potential purchase but also as symbols with profound significance in Iranian cultural and religious practices. In this instance, the dates are placed on the counter to honour the passing of a Persian customer’s father, which reflects the tradition of distributing dates as part of condolence rituals on Thursday nights. This practice illustrates the symbolic role of dates in Persian mourning customs and highlights the performative nature of material culture, where the act of giving or consuming dates reinforces communal bonds and enacts shared cultural values. As customers engage with the dates, they also engage with the cultural and discursive practices surrounding them, extending the material performativity into linguistic space. In doing so, the dates move beyond their practical function, becoming active participants in the ongoing construction of meaning and identity. At the same time, the dates also serve a dual role: they are objects of curiosity for Anglo-Australian customers and ritualistic symbols of remembrance for Persian customers. This dual function emphasises Miller’s (Reference Miller and Miller2005) concept of objectification, where material objects like dates actively shape and reflect social and cultural values, identities, and relationships. By mediating sensory, cultural, and ritual dimensions, the dates transcend their practical role, embodying the intersection of local and global flows of meaning, value, and identity. Through their use in ritual and exchange, the dates demonstrate how even mundane objects can transcend their practical purpose, actively participating in the construction of meaning and reflecting the dynamic power of material culture.

Extract 7 emphasises the intersection of cultural practices and social roles, particularly in a diasporic context. The date transforms from being a consumable item for business purposes (as seen in Extract 6) to a culturally charged symbol of mourning. The shop-owner’s role shifts here; he is not only a seller of goods but also a custodian of ritual space. The dates on the counter are no longer simply items for sale but become carriers of memory and commemoration, facilitating an exchange that is beyond commerce. This act of placing ritualistic objects in commercial space illustrates how diasporic settings often blur the boundaries between the sacred and the secular, which creates spaces for both economic activity and cultural practice to coexist. This act of placing dates on the counter in honour of the deceased customer’s father (see Izadi, Reference Izadi2020) signifies a communal and ritualistic act of solidarity, with the object itself becoming a tool for collective memory and the ritualistic bonding of community. Here, Ahmed’s (Reference Ahmed2014) concept of ‘sticky objects’ is particularly illuminating: the date, as a material object, becomes affectively charged through its association with mourning, memory, and cultural attachment. It ‘sticks’ not only to the event of death but to broader diasporic experiences of loss, belonging, and ritual practice.

The customer’s question, ‘Are you giving dates to charity?’ (line 9), is framed humorously and reflects his awareness of the ritual significance of dates. However, his suggestion that the dates might be given to charity ‘for the new president’ (line 9) introduces a playful misunderstanding. The Persian-speaking customer, familiar with charitable practices involving dates, humorously juxtaposes the ritual act of giving dates with a contemporary political context. His tone shifts from humour to a more respectful one (lines 11–13) upon learning the true purpose of the dates, revealing a deeper understanding of their cultural meaning. In this exchange, the dates serve as a hybrid object, one that simultaneously embodies charity and a ritual object for mourning. Their emotional and symbolic resonance reinforces their ‘stickiness’ as Ahmed describes, circulating in the shop space not just as goods but as affectively loaded artefacts shaped by both individual memory and shared cultural meanings. This highlights how cultural practices surrounding objects can be both humorous and serious, depending on the context in which they are interpreted. This interplay between humour and solemnity underscores the fluid nature of cultural symbols, where meanings are context-dependent and negotiated through interaction. The customer’s comment highlights how objects like dates can be subject to different interpretations based on cultural references, blending political, charitable, and ritualistic meanings.

The interaction also reveals the material and social pragmatics of the ritual. The shop-owner’s explanation (lines 14–16) of how the dates are placed out for others to sample and how some customers eat them while others say prayers further illustrates how the dates perform multiple functions, facilitating social interaction, fostering ritual observance, and acting as mediators of social relationships. The dates, then, are not merely passive items for consumption; they are active participants in the social ritual of mourning, blending the practical (the transaction) with the symbolic (the act of remembrance and prayer). This dual functionality highlights how material objects mediate between the personal and collective, creating opportunities for individual acts of remembrance while reinforcing shared cultural practices. In addition, the shop-owner’s comment that ‘as long as he pays for the dates, I’ll leave them there at the counter’ (line 20) adds a layer of pragmatism to the ritual. It shows the negotiation of ritual and commercial interests within the everyday practices of the shop. Despite the deeply symbolic significance of the dates, the shop-owner’s position suggests a pragmatic view of ritual. He is willing to accommodate the cultural practice of the customer but remains rooted in the business transaction. This tension between economic pragmatism and cultural accommodation reveals the complexities of navigating diasporic identities, where the preservation of cultural practices must often coexist with the realities of commercial life. This dynamic highlights the tension between cultural respect and market realities, where objects, such as dates, become vessels for both cultural practice and commercial exchange. Moreover, the dates in this context also demonstrate cultural hybridity. The fusion of Persian mourning practices with Australian commercial exchange creates a space where cross-cultural meanings are negotiated, contested, and reinterpreted. The shop itself, as a site of transaction, becomes a site of cultural convergence, where the global and local intersect (Blommaert, Reference Blommaert2010). The ritual use of dates as part of Persian mourning practices within the context of an Australian corner shop exemplifies how objects can embody multidimensional roles, simultaneously fulfilling cultural, ritualistic, and commercial functions.

The previous discussion on the material and social pragmatics of dates within the mourning ritual highlights how objects can serve multiple, interrelated functions. In Extract 8, we shift focus from the material culture of ritual to the discursive practices that shape diasporic identities and political memories. The customer’s narrative about the Iranian Revolution of 1979 illustrates how historical events continue to resonate in the present through conversation, memory, and material artefacts.

In Extract 8, a Persian-speaking customer (in his mid-fifties), a long-time resident of Sydney (twenty-five years at the time of recording) and a taxi driver, wearing his uniform, steers the conversation toward the Iranian Revolution of 1979, particularly focusing on Ayatollah Khomeini’s return from exile in Paris. The customer recalls Ayatollah Khomeini’s arrival in Tehran and his first speech at Beheshte Zahra, a significant cemetery in Tehran where he addressed his supporters. This moment in history is not just a political event but a site of discursive struggle, where promises, expectations, and ideological shifts were set in motion, which has shaped the trajectories of Iranian society. The customer’s account is not merely an anecdote but an instance of historical intertextuality, where past political discourse resurfaces in the present, mediated through conversation, memory, and material artefacts.

Ayatollah Khomeini’s speech contained radical economic promises, asserting that Iranians would no longer have to pay for essential services such as gas, electricity, and water. The speech was recorded and widely disseminated on cassette tapes, turning these tapes into potent political artefacts. However, as political power consolidated, the very act of possessing such a tape became criminalised. This transformation exemplifies Latour’s (Reference Latour2005) concept of the actant, in which the cassette is not a neutral object but an active participant in shaping historical and political realities. The cassette, in this context, is not merely a passive carrier of information but an object with agency, its presence implicates individuals in networks of resistance, state surveillance, and potential persecution. It shifts from a medium of revolutionary fervour to a mediator of state control, marking those who own it as threats to the regime.

From the perspective of Scollon’s (Reference Scollon2001) mediational means, the cassette operates within multiple semiotic cycles: first, as a revolutionary tool that propagates ideology; later, as a subversive artefact that signals dissent. The materiality of the cassette itself (small, portable, and replicable) allows it to slip through state controls, making it a tool of covert circulation. Yet, its very portability becomes its liability: its discovery can lead to imprisonment, and as the customer claims, even execution. Unlike the credit card in Extract 2, which exposes private actions within the commercial sphere, the cassette intervenes in the political domain, materialising both resistance and repression. To fully appreciate the entanglement of materiality, discourse, and language in this instance, we must consider how objects function as both semiotic and political agents. As Miller (Reference Miller and Miller2005) argues, materiality is not simply about physical substances but also about the socio-cultural forces embedded in them. The cassette, as an artefact, carries layers of meaning that extend beyond its physicality; it serves as a discursive object, deeply interwoven with a network of political and social contestation. Drawing on Bourdieu’s (Reference Bourdieu1977b) concept of practice, the cassette shapes and is shaped by social structures. It functions as both a medium of resistance and a tool of oppression, depending on the socio-political context in which it circulates.

In light of this, the materiality of language itself must be considered in this interaction. Language does not function in isolation but is materially instantiated in physical forms whether as cassette tapes, written texts, or embodied speech (Shankar & Cavanaugh, Reference Shankar, Cavanaugh, Shankar and Cavanaugh2017). The cassette, in this case, is not just a medium for words; it actively materialises discourse, making it tangible and, therefore, vulnerable to state intervention. As Järlehed et al. (Reference Järlehed, Milani and Rosendal2023) argue, language materiality foregrounds how discourse operates through physical media, shaping political economies and social hierarchies. In this way, the cassette exemplifies how linguistic materiality operates within broader structures of power, where access to and control over discourse are tightly regulated. The customer’s narrative, then, is more than a historical recollection. It is an engagement with the material-discursive entanglements that continue to shape perceptions of history and governance. His critique of Ayatollah Khomeini’s economic promises is not simply a matter of ideological disagreement but a reflection on how discourse materialises through objects and circulates within networks of power. This perspective aligns with Barad’s (Reference Barad2003) posthumanist performativity, which challenges the separation of language and materiality, instead emphasising their co-constitutive nature. In this interaction, discourse is not merely spoken; it is embedded in material artefacts, shaping and being shaped by the socio-political landscape in which it unfolds. Thus, the cassette is more than just an archival object; rather, it is an ideological actant, entangling individuals in networks of power, surveillance, and historical memory. Its presence in this interaction underscores the ongoing negotiation of political identity, as the customer engages in a retrospective critique of a promise unfulfilled. By integrating theories of materiality, discourse, and language, we see how objects are not passive carriers of meaning but active participants in shaping historical and political realities.

Given the intertwined relationship between material objects and social practices, as illustrated by the cassette, Extract 9 further demonstrates how material culture (specifically the act of tea preparation) becomes a medium for expressing cultural identity and social memory. The customer’s enquiry about loose-leaf tea, initially appearing as a simple transactional question, serves as a subtle act of indexing Persian tea culture. By referencing loose-leaf tea, the customer invokes a shared cultural script that contrasts with the dominant tea-drinking practices in Australia, where tea bags are more common. This seemingly ordinary question thus establishes an implicit cultural boundary. It reinforces the distinctiveness of Persian tea traditions in contrast to dominant Australian tea-drinking practices.

It is within this context that the customer recalls ‘those good old days’ (line 3), a phrase that does more than simply reference the past. Rather than a neutral recollection, this moment frames the past as an idealised temporality, positioning it in contrast to the present. The shop-owner immediately aligns with this comment, reinforcing it through sensory memory: ‘It had an authentic aroma’ (line 4). This alignment not only strengthens the nostalgic framing of the past but also establishes a discursive act of authentication (Karrebæk & Maegaard, Reference Karrebæk and Maegaard2024). By emphasising the sensory qualities of Persian tea, the shop-owner implicitly differentiates traditional tea from contemporary alternatives, invoking authenticity through embodied experience. This act of authentication is further developed through the discussion of tea preparation. The mention of the samovar, an iconic object in Persian tea culture (see further), functions as more than a reference to a brewing method; it conjures a material and social world where tea-drinking extends beyond individual consumption. The recollection of a collective tea-drinking ritual, ‘They would sit together, drink tea, and chat’ (line 5), demonstrates how the samovar (Figure 4) serves as a mediational means that structures social interaction. In the context of Persian tea-drinking rituals, tea is not merely a beverage, but a practice embedded in hospitality and extended conversation. The shift from the samovar to modern kettles signals more than a technological change; it also transforms the tempo of social life. While the samovar structured communal engagement, the modern kettle suggests a different temporality and mode of social organisation, raising questions about how material culture mediates shifting social relations.

Figure 4 An earlier version of the samovar

Historical context further reinforces the material-discursive dimension of this analysis. The samovar, central to the discussion, was originally a Russian invention from the eighteenth century, and as the modern Iranian historian Firaydun Adamiyat (Reference Adamiyat1354/1975) has argued (an assertion frequently cited in Iranian historiography), tea began to be imported into Iran with the introduction of samovars during the tenure of the Qajar chief minister Amir Kabir in the late 1840s (see also Matthee, Reference Matthee1996). It performs three functions at once: boiling water, dispensing hot water through a spout, and keeping the tea warm by placing the teapot on top. Over time, the samovar became deeply embedded in Persian tea culture, where it is now seen as an emblem of hospitality and tradition. Tea itself, called chai in Iran, arrived via the Silk Road, tracing a linguistic and cultural path from China, where it was originally known as cha (Adamiyat, Reference Adamiyat1354/1975). This etymological and historical journey reflects the interconnectedness of material culture, language, and trade.

Today, Iranians drink chai throughout the day, and tea is deeply embedded in Persian social life, indexing moments of relaxation, rest, and hospitality. The Persian tea ceremony, in particular, remains an integral part of Iranian identity. This cultural embeddedness, however, becomes a site of tension in migratory contexts, where traditional material practices may no longer be easily sustained. This shift exemplifies what Tannock (Reference Tannock1995) terms continuity and discontinuity in nostalgic discourse. While the past is valorised, its absence in the present is foregrounded, which emphasises a sense of cultural dislocation. The customer’s comment ‘The setup here isn’t like it is in Iran’ in line 7 marks a moment of explicit contrast between cultural worlds, making visible the ways in which migration disrupts habitual, taken-for-granted practices (Bourdieu, Reference Bourdieu1977b). The customer’s attempt to adapt to new conditions by using a heater to quickly brew tea for guests illustrates how traditional practices are transformed in response to material constraints. Drawing from Bourdieu’s (Reference Bourdieu1977b) concept of habitus, the customer and the shop-owner’s discussion illustrates how deeply ingrained practices of tea-drinking are shaped by cultural dispositions. These dispositions influence their perceptions of authenticity, where the act of tea preparation and consumption becomes a marker of Persian identity that is reconfigured in the context of migration.

Yet, nostalgia here is not a simple longing for the past, but rather it is actively mobilised to authenticate contemporary practices. Both the customer and the shop-owner position themselves as epistemic authorities on ‘real’ Persian tea, enacting what Bucholtz and Hall (Bucholtz & Hall, Reference Bucholtz and Hall2005) describe as identity positioning through expertise. The shop-owner, as a vendor of Persian goods, claims a form of institutionalised authenticity, while the customer, by invoking the past, claims experiential authenticity. The interplay between these forms of authority reflects Manning’s (Reference Manning2012) notion of discursive chains of authentication, where products, people, and places come together as an assemblage in the semiotic construction of authenticity. The shop itself thus emerges as more than a commercial space; it is a site of cultural reproduction (Bourdieu, Reference Bourdieu, Karabel and Halsey1977a) where Persian identity is (re)negotiated and (re)enacted (Garfinkel, Reference Garfinkel1967).

The discussion of alternative tea-making methods, particularly the mention of Pyrex kettles (line 9), complicates the binary opposition between tradition and modernity. Rather than being wholly displaced, Persian tea practices are adapted to new material conditions, reflecting a form of ‘adaptive’ authenticity. The shop-owner’s suggestion (line 8) to place the teapot on the lid of a kettle and the customer’s confirmation (line 9) reveal a pragmatic response to material constraints, signalling an ongoing negotiation between past and present tea-drinking practices. This moment of negotiation explains the dynamic nature of authenticity itself not a static essence but a semiotic process continually shaped by social and material contingencies (Pietikäinen & Hegel, Reference Pietikäinen and Hegel2021).

Both the customer and the shop-owner evoke nostalgia as a discursive strategy. The customer recalls the scent of Persian tea and the communal experience of tea-drinking, aligning her memories with a broader cultural script that associates Persian tea with warmth, tradition, and shared experience. The shop-owner, in turn, reinforces this nostalgia by positioning the shop as a space where such traditions can be relived. The links between past, present, and imagined future moments are central to the rhetorical practices of nostalgia (Doane & Hodges, Reference Doane and Hodges1987), where both continuity and discontinuity shape the nostalgic experience (Tannock, Reference Tannock1995). The shop provides a universe of interpretation in which Persian identity emerges through a semiotic assemblage (Pietikäinen & Hegel, Reference Pietikäinen and Hegel2021). Objects such as the samovar, the Pyrex kettle, and the Persian tea itself function as mediational means that co-construct Persian culture as an available and meaningful resource. Customers do not merely purchase items; rather, they engage in a process of meaning-making in which Persian identity is both reaffirmed and transformed through discourse.

The discussion on Persian tea-drinking practices demonstrates key theoretical concerns regarding materiality, agency, and mediation. The samovar, porcelain teapots, and even the tea itself are not passive objects; rather, they actively mediate social interactions and discursive constructions of Persian identity. The shop-owner, in asserting the authenticity of Persian tea, is not simply selling a product but is participating in a broader semiotic economy where material objects serve as anchors for cultural belonging and nostalgia. Appadurai’s (Reference Appadurai1996) concept of ‘scapes’ (referring to the fluid and disjunctive global flows of people, ideas, and objects) can further illuminate how nostalgia functions in the diaspora. Here, nostalgia is not just a longing for the past but also a means to negotiate one’s position within shifting material and social conditions. The customer’s attempt to recreate the sensory experiences of Persian tea culture highlights the negotiation of cultural continuity within the disjunctures of migration. By integrating historical, cultural, and theoretical perspectives, this analysis highlights how Persian tea culture is not just about drinking tea but about engaging with a deeply layered semiotic and material world where past and present are continually negotiated.

Shifting the focus to another key area of material culture, the conversation in Extract 10 reveals how food practices, specifically, the sourcing and consumption of meat, serve as a site of cultural negotiation within the diaspora. Here, two Persian-speaking female customers engage in a discussion that not only reflects individual preferences but also brings to the fore broader processes of identity construction, taste, and adaptation to new material conditions in a diasporic setting.

The exchange in Extract 10 foregrounds the indexicality of place (Johnstone, Reference Johnstone and Fought2004) in shaping food choices, particularly in relation to halal authentication and cultural belonging. The reference to Blacktown, a suburb with a significant Arabic-speaking population (4.1 per cent according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2021), immediately situates the conversation within a diasporic foodscape where food consumption is intricately tied to trust, familiarity, and social knowledge (Adekunle & Filson, Reference Adekunle and Filson2020). Customer 1’s enquiry in line 3, ‘Do you get halal?’ is not simply about dietary restrictions but about the perceived legitimacy of halal meat in a particular market space. The shop-owner’s response in line 11, ‘Well, Blacktown’s meat is halal’, rather than assuming the role of an arbiter of authenticity, functions as a pragmatic statement that invokes an assumed collective understanding of Blacktown as a hub for halal consumption. While this response may carry an undertone of critique, suggesting that halal is widely available and not necessarily restricted to Blacktown, it simultaneously reinforces the discursive association between place and authenticity. This spatial distinction between mainstream supermarkets and ethnically specific butchers reflects diasporic consumers’ strategic engagement with multiple food economies (Cavanaugh, Reference Cavanaugh2007). In line with Appadurai’s (Reference Appadurai1996) notion of ‘scapes’, this moment highlights how foodscapes become arenas of cultural continuity and transformation, where shopping choices signal not just dietary preferences but also social class (Maguire, Reference Maguire2016), cultural adaptation, and trust in authenticity.

This moment of authentication is particularly significant in diasporic contexts, where halal consumption operates within overlapping registers of religious practice, cultural continuity, and everyday material conditions. The reference to Blacktown is not just a matter of location but an invocation of a social geography that structures food practices through semiotic and economic distinctions. The spatial dimension of this negotiation is particularly significant, as the conversation contrasts different retail spaces, each with distinct socio-material implications. The shop-owner’s suggestion in line 9, ‘You should go to Woolworths and get lamb; it’s really good, you’ll enjoy it’, positions Woolworths as a site of quality and pleasure. However, Customer 1’s insistence on Blacktown counters this, reaffirming halal authenticity. The juxtaposition with Woolworths, introduced by the shop-owner in line 9, does not serve to highlight halal availability but rather to emphasise quality. While there is some halal meat at Woolworths, the shop-owner’s suggestion, ‘You should go to Woolworths and get lamb; it’s really good, you’ll enjoy it’, is not about competition between halal sources but about the quality of meat available there. In contrast, Customer 1’s emphasis on Blacktown reflects a deeper investment in the authenticity of halal procurement, where trust in sourcing and religious compliance takes precedence over generalised notions of quality. This dynamic reflects what Scollon (Reference Scollon2001) refers to as ‘mediated action’, where everyday practices, such as purchasing halal meat, are shaped by interactions with material conditions and social discourses (Shankar & Cavanaugh, Reference Shankar, Cavanaugh, Shankar and Cavanaugh2017). This distinction underscores the ways in which food choices are not merely about taste but about the social and religious structures that shape perceptions of where and how food should be acquired (Ang, Reference Ang2004). In this sense, the invocation of place is not merely about physical location but about trust and the perceived reliability of halal certification, embedded in the social networks that sustain it.

Incorporating Agha’s (Agha, Reference Agha2006, Reference Agha2007a, Reference Agha2007b) social theory of language strengthens this framework by emphasising that food choices, like language, are social semiotic resources. Agha (Reference Agha2007b, Reference Agha2011) suggests that through language and food practices, individuals create reflexive models of behaviour, social groups, and social relations. As such, food practices, including halal consumption, are not just individual preferences but performative acts that mediate and construct larger social identities and relations. The linguistic and semiotic registers used in food discourse, such as ‘halal’ or ‘authentic’, function as vehicles for marking social distinctions and reinforcing normative models of behaviour. Agha’s concept of enregisterment (Reference Agha2007a, Reference Aghab) is crucial here: the socially recognised categories of food, such as halal or non-halal, are products of collective evaluation and are tied to moral judgments about what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. This theoretical lens clarifies how the interaction in Extract 10 is not just about food choices but about social positioning and the performance of cultural belonging within a diasporic context. Food becomes a signifier of identity, where halal certification and place are deeply entangled in the construction of moral and cultural values (Karrebæk, Reference Karrebæk2014).

Beyond questions of authentication, the discussion also foregrounds the role of taste and embodied memory in shaping diasporic food practices. Customer 1’s observation in line 6 that ‘The taste of the meat here is different from the taste of the meat in Iran’ speaks to a broader discourse of authenticity, where taste is not simply a matter of individual preference but a socially mediated construct. In diasporic contexts, such remarks index a sensory dissonance that is not just about flavour but about the larger project of cultural reproduction in a new environment. The mention of ‘the shank’ introduces a specific culinary object, which is then validated through a social reference, Mahnaz and her guests, who ‘loved it’ and found it ‘really delicious’. This transformation of an object into a socially endorsed commodity illustrates mediated action in which food is not merely consumed but co-constructed through discourse, relational networks, and affective connections. The act of purchasing, preparing, and evaluating meat becomes a mediated practice that extends beyond individual preference, supporting shared cultural knowledge and group belonging (Izadi, Reference Izadi2017, Reference Izadi2020, Reference Izadi, Rasmussen and v. Leeuwen2023). The mention of Mahnaz and her guests, who found it ‘really delicious’ in line 12, transforms the act of consumption into a communal and affective moment, aligning with the relational dimensions of food and the ways in which taste becomes a vehicle for sustaining cultural identity.

In line with Agha’s (Agha, Reference Agha2007a, Reference Agha2007b) model, this mediation through taste and food practices demonstrates how food items are categorised (e.g., halal, delicious, healthy) in ways that carry moral judgments and social implications. Such categorisation mediates social relations, group belonging, and identity performance. In the context of halal meat, Customer 1’s preference for Blacktown over Woolworths (a mainstream shop) shows that food choices are not only about taste but are deeply embedded in socio-cultural registers and semiotic performances. The invocation of place (Blacktown, Woolworths) functions as a marker of social models and normative behaviours, as Agha (Reference Agha2007a, Reference Agha2007b) suggests, where the performance of halal consumption signals a particular social identity and adherence to cultural norms.

The interaction, although momentary and mundane, is not simply about the practicalities of purchasing halal meat but about the ways in which food choices are embedded in larger semiotic and social processes. The shop-owner’s response, rather than deciding on what counts as ‘authentic’ halal, reflects a shared knowledge of the local halal landscape, where Blacktown is positioned as a trusted space of consumption. At the same time, the exchange reveals how indexicality operates in everyday discourse to organise perceptions of place, food, and belonging. The invocation of Blacktown and Woolworths signals a negotiation between different market spaces, each carrying distinct social meanings. Ultimately, this extract exemplifies how language, materiality, and semiotic resources interact in shaping everyday practices within diasporic communities. The conversation is not simply about meat but about broader negotiations of belonging, adaptation, and authenticity. Through discursive strategies, intertextual references, and spatial distinctions, the participants collectively construct a meaningful framework for making sense of their food choices in a new socio-cultural landscape. This highlights the role of language not merely as a communicative tool but as a dynamic medium through which cultural identities are continuously enacted and redefined.

Transitioning from the prior discussion of halal authenticity and sensory memory, the following interaction shifts focus to intercultural encounters and culinary exchange. In Extract 11, an Anglo-Australian female customer (C) who lives near the shop engages in a casual conversation with the shop-owner (SOW) and the researcher (R). As a frequent visitor, she often shares stories about how the shop-owners have introduced her to Persian cuisine, offering her food and teaching her how to cook it. This moment, unfolding in the quiet of the shop with no other customers present, creates an intimate setting where storytelling and cultural exchange take centre stage. Here, food is not just a marker of cultural identity but a bridge for cross-cultural learning, where shared narratives and embodied experiences shape perceptions of taste and authenticity.

The customer’s account of making Persian rice exemplifies what De Fina and Georgakopoulou (Reference De Fina, Georgakopoulou, Fina and Georgakopoulou2015), describe as small stories, that is, everyday narratives that emerge in social interactions rather than fully structured, high-stakes storytelling events. Such narratives serve as sites of identity negotiation (De Fina, Reference De Fina, Fina and Georgakopoulou2015) which allows the customer to position herself as someone engaging with Persian foodways (Di Giovine & Brulotte, Reference Di Giovine, Brulotte, Brulotte and Giovine2016) while simultaneously reflecting on her own culinary experiences. By recounting her struggles and eventual success in making the dish, she positions herself as a learner, appropriating Persian culinary practices into her own repertoire. The storytelling process also involves entextualisation (Bauman & Briggs, Reference Bauman and Briggs1990; Lempert & Perrino, Reference Lempert and Perrino2007; Silverstein & Urban, Reference Silverstein and Urban1996), that is, taking a recipe from a Persian cookbook (a mediated textual source), transferring it to her own kitchen, and recontextualising it within her personal experience. Through this process, Persian rice shifts from being a culturally embedded practice in its original setting to something that is reproduced and adapted in a new socio-cultural context. The Persian spices (cinnamon, cardamom, sultanas, in line 3) function as semiotic resources (van Leeuwen, Reference van Leeuwen2005), indexing Persian culinary identity by evoking cultural associations and taste memories. However, these ingredients are more than just symbolic markers; they also serve as mediational tools (Norris & Jones, Reference Norris and Jones2005; Scollon, Reference Scollon2001), actively shaping the enactment of Persian cuisine in a new context. In this interaction, the spices are not only material objects but also carriers of historical and social formations, which mediate between the cook, the dish, and its cultural significance. Their use demonstrates how material and symbolic dimensions intertwine in culinary practice, as the act of cooking itself becomes a site of cultural reproduction and transformation. Thus, the customer’s engagement with the dish reflects a broader process of cultural negotiation, where both symbolic and material elements come together to shape her understanding and practice.

The shop-owner and the researcher (both knowledgeable due to their Persian background) also play key roles in authenticating the customer’s experience with Persian food. In this context, the shop-owner’s role becomes important in guiding the customer’s engagement with Persian culinary practices. The shop-owner’s brief interjection in line 4 (‘but that rice’) introduces a moment of cultural calibration, suggesting that the version of Persian rice the customer describes may not fully align with her own understanding of it. This is not a direct correction but an act of authentication, gently asserting a Persian perspective on how the dish should be recognised. The shop-owner’s elaboration (‘with a little bit of cinnamon’ line 6) refines the customer’s understanding, guiding her towards a more culturally validated version of the dish. The interaction (as illustrated in Extract 10) further emphasises the materiality of language in shaping cultural knowledge. It demonstrates how cultural knowledge is negotiated not only through spoken language but also through material objects, spices, cookbooks, and the act of cooking itself. The process of authentication is mediated by these objects, which function as both semiotic resources and mediational tools. Persian rice is not just verbally described but actively performed and reconfigured through the interplay of talk and materiality. Together, these elements contribute to the customer’s evolving understanding of Persian cuisine, illustrating the dynamic interaction between identity, materiality, and cultural authenticity.

The shop-owner’s act of cultural calibration in Extract 11 establishes the foundation for further cultural exchange, which unfolds in Extract 12. In line 10, the shop-owner shifts to Persian to name Adas Polo and با خرما وکشمش (with dates and raisins), but this is directed at the researcher, not the customer. This shift to Persian emphasises the cultural transmission that takes place between the shop-owner and the researcher, which strengthens the linguistic boundaries of the shop and positions the researcher as a participant in this cultural exchange. The use of Persian terms serves as a marker of cultural authenticity (Mapes, Reference Mapes2021), which draws attention to the shared insider knowledge. The shop-owner continues by naming Adas Polo and Qormeh Sabzi, embedding cultural materiality into the interaction. This naming process is a form of enregisterment, where these foods become indexed to Persian culinary tradition. By echoing these names, the researcher contributes to their semiotic mobility that is the ability of these food terms to transcend cultural contexts, as described by Silverstein (Reference Silverstein2003). Through repetition, these terms move beyond Persian cuisine and gain broader cultural recognition.

The customer expresses appreciation for the dishes, particularly drawing attention to the flavours, which shows how food as a material object mediates social relationships between the shop-owner and the local community. This is significant because it reinforces the role of food not just as sustenance, but as a material entity that fosters community connection and cultural exchange. The laughter over roast lamb (line 13) further contrasts Persian and Anglo-Australian culinary traditions, offering an example of indexical contrast (Silverstein, Reference Silverstein2021). This refers to how material objects, such as food, index or point to different cultural frames or traditions. In this case, the food item, roast lamb, serves as a point of comparison between the customer’s potentially more familiar Anglo-Australian food practices and the Persian culinary traditions the shop-owner is introducing. The contrast between these two food practices highlights how food, as a semiotic object, can index both cultural differences and similarities, and serves as a tool for constructing identity in the context of these intercultural exchanges.

Extract 13 is a continuation of the interaction from Extracts 11 and 12, where the exchange between the customer, researcher, and shop-owner continues to explore the cultural dynamics of Persian food. In this section, the customer reflects upon the foods she has been given, including Tahdig, a Persian dish, which is introduced through a process of naming and pronunciation correction. In line 23, the shop-owner names ‘kotlet’ and other foods, while the customer expresses her admiration for the rice and describes it in detail, leading to a discussion about Tahdig. The interaction becomes centred around language materiality, as the act of naming and pronouncing ‘Tahdig’ emphasises how linguistic forms are mediated through material engagement (Manning, Reference Manning2012). The customer’s sensory experience of eating the dish, for example, its taste, appearance, and texture, becomes intertwined with the process of learning its name. This relationship between the linguistic and sensory experience underscores how language can be embodied through interaction.

In the structured repetition of ‘Tahdig’ (Turns 31–38), the shop-owner’s phonetic correction (Turn 32) and the researcher’s breakdown of syllables (Turns 34–37) exemplify the collaborative nature of enregisterment. Here, language learning is not just a cognitive process, but it is actively shaped through multisensory engagement (sound, touch, and taste). Teaching the correct pronunciation of ‘Tahdig’ is not just a matter of phonetic correction but a shared, embodied practice that connects the customer’s newfound knowledge with the materiality of the food itself. The customer’s comment, ‘I’ll probably forget it’ (Turn 33), followed by her eventual correct pronunciation in line 38, signals a moment of enregisterment. This process of acquiring and attempting to retain a Persian term shows how unfamiliar terms are gradually integrated into the speaker’s repertoire, even if temporarily. The final turns (39–40) further reinforce the indexical meaning (Silverstein, Reference Silverstein2021) of ‘Tahdig’, as it is anchored in Persian culinary traditions. The explanation of its meaning (at the bottom of the dish in line 29) frames the dish through a spatial metaphor, reinforcing its connection to Persian food culture and its materiality within that context.

In these extracts, the customer, researcher, and shop-owner engage in an exchange about Persian food, with the shop-owner introducing dishes like Adas Polo and Qormeh Sabzi and guiding the customer through the pronunciation of Tahdig. Through collaborative naming, repetition, and sensory experiences, food and language work together to mediate cultural knowledge (Appadurai, Reference Appadurai2015; Scollon, Reference Scollon2001) and reinforce the customer’s connection to Persian culinary traditions.

6 Conclusion

In this Element, I explore the intersections of language, materiality, and cultural identity within diasporic contexts, specifically focusing on how imported Persian ingredients and everyday items – which are often found in mainstream supermarkets in Australia such as Coles and Woolworths – serve as cultural symbols and mediators of social encounters. The study moves beyond food itself, examining conversations about these items to understand their role in negotiating identity and authenticity in a multicultural marketplace. Drawing on interdisciplinary theories from social semiotics (van Leeuwen, Reference van Leeuwen2005), multimodal communication, and linguistic anthropology, this Element integrates frameworks that emphasise the materiality of objects in shaping social dynamics. Latour’s concept of actants helps frame the role of objects as active participants in these interactions, while Miller’s materiality provides a lens for understanding how objects carry cultural significance and influence social relationships. Appadurai’s theory of mediation highlights how these objects circulate across cultural boundaries, affecting how identity is constructed and performed. Scollon’s mediational means theory further enriches the analysis by emphasising how both language and material objects work together to facilitate social interaction. In addition, Shankar and Cavanaugh’s perspectives on language and materiality contribute to understanding the fluid and context-dependent nature of these negotiations. Methodologically, through an ethnographic methodology, including participant observation and conversation analysis, this Element delves into everyday interactions between customers and shop-owners, demonstrating how objects mediate social relationships and contribute to the negotiation of cultural identity.

The findings underscore the critical role of objects in mediating cultural exchanges, highlighting not only the food itself but also the conversations and cultural understanding these discussions facilitate. Objects such as Persian ingredients, fruit dates, legal documents like powers of attorney, and symbols on shop signs emerged as active mediators of cultural values and legal frameworks within the diasporic space. For instance, the power of attorney (in Extract 3), as a legal document, functioned as an actant, representing the landowner who resides in Australia but is unable to return to Iran to sell the land. This document, through its legal significance, symbolised a complex intersection of cultural and legal practices. These objects were not passive; instead, they actively facilitated learning for non-Persian customers, transforming the shop into a cultural transmitter and educational space for engagement and exchange. In Extracts 11–13, for example, Anglo-Australian customers not only learned about Persian food but also practised pronouncing its names, illustrating how food-related objects in the shop became sites for cultural education. Similarly, dates, a staple in Persian cuisine (as discussed in Extracts 6 and 7), were viewed differently by customers based on their cultural backgrounds. Anglo-Australian customers, unfamiliar with the varieties of Persian dates, expressed curiosity and appreciation for their distinctive taste and appearance. In contrast, Persian-speaking customers focused more on the cultural significance and traditional uses of the fruit. For the shop-owner, dates were not merely a commodity but an emblem of cultural authenticity, connecting heritage with the diasporic community. The shop thus served as a dynamic site where linguistic practices and material objects coalesced, encouraging the negotiation of cultural identity. As a place of engagement, it fostered cultural learning through interactions that integrated language, food, and objects, allowing customers to explore and understand Persian food practices and identity. Such encounters illustrate the intertwined nature of language, materiality, and cultural understanding in constructing authenticity within a multicultural marketplace.

The findings move beyond viewing objects as static cultural markers and instead accentuate instead their broader role as active mediators of cultural exchange. They demonstrate that objects such as food, documents, and other material items are central to the dynamics of cultural engagement. Through examining the ways in which objects are discussed, handled, and perceived, the study brings to the fore how they play a crucial role in identity negotiation and cultural learning. It is not merely the food items themselves but the conversations surrounding these objects, as well as the habitual practices and interpretations attached to them, that shape and are shaped by people’s lives. This process of cultural exchange is deeply tied to objects, their materiality, and the meanings we attribute to them. This aligns with recent work in material culture and cultural studies (e.g., Appadurai, Reference Appadurai and Appadurai1986; Manning, Reference Manning2012; Miller, Reference Miller and Miller2005; Shankar & Cavanaugh, Reference Shankar, Cavanaugh, Shankar and Cavanaugh2017), which demonstrates the significant role of objects in mediating social relations and the transmission of cultural knowledge. By focusing on the semiotics of objects in intercultural contexts, this research contributes to a deeper understanding of how objects act as powerful agents in the negotiation of identity and cultural authenticity.

These findings are important because they offer practical insights into how everyday interactions in multicultural spaces can be more inclusive and culturally responsive. For instance, educators, community workers, and intercultural trainers could use the examples from this study to design activities that highlight the role of material culture in facilitating understanding across cultural boundaries. Such activities might include role-plays or scenario-based discussions where participants engage with culturally significant objects, fostering empathy and awareness of diverse worldviews. Retailers or cultural centres might also rethink how they display or narrate products from different traditions to promote meaningful engagement rather than tokenism. This could involve curating stories and contexts behind products, engaging community voices in the curation process, and encouraging dialogue between customers and staff about the cultural significance of items. By grounding these efforts in real-world interactions, stakeholders can foster deeper intercultural understanding and appreciation.

While the study provides valuable insights into the role of objects in cultural exchange, a few limitations should be noted. First, the research was conducted within a single ethnic shop, which may limit the broader applicability of the findings to other communities or contexts. Moreover, the focus on verbal and material semiotics, while central to understanding the mediation of culture, did not fully encompass the sensory and embodied experiences that could further illuminate the role of food, for instance, in these exchanges. In addition, the absence of in-depth interviews limits the ability to capture participants’ reflections on these experiences. Future studies could incorporate interviews with shopkeepers and customers to gain deeper insight into their motivations, memories, and identity negotiations. Such narratives would provide richer accounts of how individuals interpret their interactions with material objects and allow researchers to trace the affective and historical dimensions embedded in everyday encounters. To build on these findings, future research could expand the scope to include diverse diasporic communities and explore the multisensory dimensions of food interactions. Further studies could also investigate the role of social media and digital platforms in the spread of culinary practices in globalised contexts, considering how online spaces facilitate intercultural exchanges. In addition, exploring the socio-political aspects of food consumption such as the influence of race, class, and migration status could deepen our understanding of how cultural identities are negotiated and represented within diasporic communities. This expansion could also uncover the structural conditions that shape access to cultural representation and authenticity.

In conclusion, this research contributes to a more nuanced understanding of how material objects, language, and materiality interact to shape cultural identities in diasporic settings. By exploring the dynamic processes through which objects mediate cultural exchange and authenticity, the study opens up avenues for further research into the complex entanglements of materiality, language, and identity in globalised contexts. Practitioners and researchers interested in intercultural communication, education, or migration studies can apply these insights to support cultural learning, develop inclusive policies, and foreground material practices in their analyses. This focus on material-discursive practices can help shift policy frameworks beyond abstract notions of diversity, anchoring them in the everyday realities and interactions of diasporic life. Ultimately, such an approach emphasises the importance of studying the mundane and the material as vital sites for understanding social change, belonging, and identity. Future investigations could build on these findings to develop a more comprehensive understanding of how objects, as material and semiotic entities, facilitate the negotiation of authenticity and belonging in diasporic communities.