In my last post, I quoted some examples of linguistic lunacy – commingled containers, access controller, disposable mucus recovery unit, etc – and wondered what Orwell would think.
In his ‘Politics and the English Language‘ essay,he offered “five specimens of the English language as it is now habitually written”. Apart from their “avoidable ugliness”, he wrote, two qualities were common to all five examples.
“The first is staleness of imagery; the other is lack of precision.” What was most characteristic of modern English prose, he added, was a “mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence” – abstractions, hackneyed turns of phrase, phrases “tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated henhouse”.
He uses three categories to define the problem: dying metaphors (eg, stand shoulder to shoulder with), operators or false verbal limbs (eg, serve the purpose of), and pretentious diction (eg, phenomenon, constitute, expedite, ameliorate).
Innocent days! Is that really the worst he could come up with, back in 1946? No commingled containers and suboptimal outcomes?
Our speciality – pretentious diction
What is striking, though, is that our current linguistic disease fits mainly into his third category, pretentious diction. Yes, we have our plethora of hackneyed words and phrases (touch base, take a rain check, push the envelope) and love our false verbal limbs, but above all we specialise in pretentious diction.
Often, it’s because we’re using words to (as Orwell puts it) “dress up a simple statement and give an air of scientific impartiality to biased judgements”. Leo gives an example of this: the terms ‘intellectual harassment’ or ‘semantic violence’, used to describe simple criticism.
There’s no biased judgement, though, behind ‘disposable mucus recovery units’ and ‘ground-mounted confirmatory route markers’. There’s just an insane compulsion to load ordinary things with a huge weight of scientific and technological credibility.
In the Leo examples quoted in my last post, that is the common trend. Orwell’s “pretentious diction”, in its virulent modern form, is ‘pretentious scientifico-technological diction’. We might expect it in one of the more insecure disciplines such as sociology, but some of the worst sinners are people writing about English literature.
To explain it all, I expect we’d have to examine our worship of science and technology, and of course our analysis would have to be rigorously evidence-based. But that will have to be for another day, because I’ve got to go and do some domestic engineering.
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The English language today – or why George Orwell would need his mucus recovery unit if he had not experienced a suboptimal outcome
George Orwell’s essay, ‘Politics and the English Language‘, begins: “Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the English language is in a bad way …”
He wrote that in 1946. If language was “in a bad way” then, what way is it now in? According to John Leo, a writer and contributing editor at The Manhattan Institute’s City Journal, it’s in a “much worse” way.
In a recent article, ‘On Good Writing‘, adapted from a speech he gave at Ursino College in Pennsylvania, he refers to Orwell’s essay and comments: “Orwell offered five examples of sub-literate prose by known writers. But these examples don’t look as ghastly to us as they did to Orwell, because language is so much worse today.”
To back up his claim, he offers some examples and his translations:
commingled containers – (the label on a bin at Leo’s local recycling centre) otherwise known as ‘cans and bottles’
suboptimal outcome – if ‘achieved’ by students, it means that they failed, Leo writes; in a hospital, it means that the patient died.
hull loss – sometimes used by the airline industry, meaning ‘a plane crashed’.
access controller – a doorman
director of first impressions – a receptionist
thermal therapy unit – a hospital term meaning an ice bag
disposable mucus recovery unit – also a hospital term, which, as you’d expect, refers to a miracle of modern technology: a box of paper hankies.
ground-mounted confirmatory route markers – (found in a US government document) yes, you got it: road signs
non-traditional students – older students
Leo also tells of city officials in Oxford, England who decided to “examine the feasibility of creating a structure in Hinksey Park from indigenous vegetation”. They were, he says, “talking about planting a tree to get some shade”. He offers his own version: “a solar-shielding park structure from low-rise indigenous vegetative material”.
All this reminds me of what an English woman, who had just moved to Calgary in Canada, told me years ago: when she was asked for her occupation at a bank, she said “Housewife”, and the bank official wrote down “Domestic engineer”.
In comparison with these horrors, the examples that Orwell gave are mild. If the state of English in 1946 distressed him, he’d have a fit if he could see how pathologically it has declined.
What’s the reason for all this linguistic lunacy? See my next post.
“Good spelling is really important, as is always checking your work.”
The person who said this should be listened to. He is, after all, Britain’s Schools Minister, Jim Knight. He urged British pupils to edit and proofread their writing work. And so they damn well should.
Meanwhile, a good case study of the problems that arise when you don’t edit and proofread your own work involves, eh, British Schools Minister Jim Knight.
Mr Knight crafts his own blogs. In February 2009, someone pointed out that these were riddled with errors, including: similiar, pernsioners, maintainence, convicned, curently, reccess, archeaological, receieved and foce (foce?).
Words were missing in many of his mangled sentences:
He wrote about a new road in his Dorset South constituency, saying it had “receieved” planning permission, adding: “It’s great to see work already starting on the route in terms of the archeaological investigations.”
Other examples: “The new diplomas are being taught very successful …”.
When the little problem was pointed out to him, he admitted his sins. He’d an excuse – “I update my own blog and Facebook page, often from my phone when I am on the move. As a result, mistakes do occasionally creep in” – but added: “In the future, I ‘must do better’ and always check my work.”
Within hours, someone was also making retrospective corrections to old blog entries on Mr Knight’s website.
Making money from typos
While typos cost Mr Knight some credibility, Google’s earning an estimated $497 million a year from typos.
Harvard University researchers Tyler Moore and Benjamin Edelman say Google is making millions from the practice of ‘typosquatting’. A typosquatter registers domain names that closely resemble high-traffic websites, but include common misspellings.
For example, a typosquatter might register domain names such as Amazzon.com, Anazon.com and Amazons.com. People searching for the Amazon.com website might accidentally type in the wrong url, and thus end up on one of the typosquatter’s websites. These websites are usually a collection of lucrative click-thru advertisements.
Children’s websites have been targeted, with the result that Simpsons and Teletubbies variations have led people to porn sites.
Google ends up making money from typosquatting because its network of display ads run on the typo sites, and it gets a cut of the profits.
