Tag: Semantics

  • Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

    In the 1960s, running arguments were often tackled mid-field with the rebuttal, “Oh, that’s just semantics.” The argument was dismissed as being about words rather than ideas. For example:

    A says, “It’s not a just war.”
    B replies, “There’s no such thing as a just war.”
    A says, “Now you’re just getting into semantics.”

    In his second comment, A claims B is not addressing the war with moral evaluation, that B is changing the subject. A might sound right, but he’s using rhetoric as avoidance, while B’s claim is definitively not just semantics; it’s a rejection of A’s moral premise.

    The other day, I mentioned S. I. Hayakawa’s “The Use and Misuse of Language.” It’s a collection of essays selected and edited by Hayakawa, originally published in “ETC.: A Review of General Semantics,” from 1943 to 1962.

    “The Use and Misuse of Language” is still relevant today, and as we are so distanced from most of its content, is less likely to cause friction where it otherwise might – no one has an interest in the Edsel anymore, yet certain cars are certainly still laying eggs. In his Foreword, Hayakawa quickly clarifies what he means by semantics:

    “In general semantics, when we concern ourselves with how people talk, we are not worrying about the elegance of their pronunciation or the correctness of their grammar. Basically we are concerned with the adequacy of their language as a ‘map’ of the ‘territory’ of experience being talked about” (vii).

    What words we choose and how we choose them (by hook or by crook) are important considerations for the semanticist. But we may not feel we’re making word by word decisions. So what’s to look for? Still in his introduction, Hayakawa says:

    “What general semanticists mean by ‘language habits’ is the entire complex of (1) how we talk – whether our language is specific or general, descriptive or inferential or judgmental; and (2) our attitudes toward our own remarks – whether dogmatic or open-minded, rigid or flexible….Words, then, are more than descriptions of the territory of human experience; they are evaluations. How we think and evaluate is inextricably bound up with how we talk” (vii-viii).

    Hayakawa was interested in how language affects thought and action. But for the common reader today semantics might still be considered just semantics, an ironic and circular argument that points to but doesn’t explain the gap between technical meaning and a shout in the street. Does the word semantics suggest a method of study or dismissal of one’s statement? Does it call out perceived errors in pronunciation or attempt to explain what’s really being said? Does semantics “call the whole thing off” or try to mediate?

    But let’s take a look at Hayakawa’s book for an overview, one we might glimpse from just the titles of a few selected pieces, which might come as a surprise and entertainment, not what we might expect if we thought it was a tome of academic exercises:

    “Popular Songs vs. the Facts of Life”
    “Sexual Fantasy and the 1957 Car”
    “Why the Edsel Laid an Egg: Motivational Research vs. the Reality Principle”

    Above, we see popular subjects then as now: songs, cars. And below, arguments, how to write, and while psychologists have taken pains to craft what they do as a science, the art of something most of us don’t get to use:

    “Why Discussions Go Astray”
    “You Can’t Write Writing”
    “The Art of Psychoanalysis”

    There are 18 essays, not including the Foreword and Introduction, so I’ve just picked a sampling. Now I’ll select a single sentence from each of the above essays, that, out of context, might cause laughter or argument, but hopefully at least some reader curiosity.

    Matching Game

    Pick the essay (from the six above) to which the extracted sentence (below) belongs (answers are at the bottom of the post, or click on the footnote number):

    “American males, according to a point of view widely held among Freudian critics of our culture, are afraid of sex.”1

    “Very often it is by the expression of differences of opinion and interest that ideas are clarified and solutions worked out.”2

    “Students of general semantics are familiar enough with psychiatric concepts to know that when the world of reality proves unmanageable, a common practice is to retreat into a symbolic world, since symbols are more manageable and predictable than the existential realities for which they stand.”3

    “Perhaps the most powerful weapon in the analyst’s arsenal is the use of silence.”4

    “Different people have different needs, with respect both to transportation and self-expression.”5

    “Only to the extent that the various readers of a statement agree as to the specific conditions or observations required for ascertaining its validity can the question of its validity have meaning.”6

    In creating the game, where you match the excerpt with the essay it came from, I had in mind a recent article in The New Yorker online, which says the new Pope, Pope Leo, plays The New York Times game called “Wordle.” And at the same time I noticed The New Yorker has created its own similar game, called “Shuffalo.” The Pope article (a Profile by Paul Elie) is behind the paywall, but I’ll give you the part I’m referring to:

    “Made famous overnight, he stuck to a Midwestern matter-of-factness: he addressed the cardinals who’d elected him in flat-vowelled English, phoned his family daily, kept up his morning habit of doing the Times’ Wordle puzzle, and sent e-mails and texts from his personal accounts.”

    These online games, though they may cause some readers headaches, are obviously very popular. And I was thinking a game’s the thing to make the blog more enjoyable for my intended common reader audience (though any reader is of course welcome).

    But “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off”?

    “You say tomato, I say tomahto.”

    It’s not how we speak but how we listen that’s most important, including how we listen to ourselves. Listening to oneself is not easy; one might consider calling the whole thing off. “If they understand that their utterances are about the state of their own minds,” Hayakawa said, “that is something else again” (vii). Maybe that’s why silence is sometimes so effective. Once experience has been folded into a particular verbal shape, like a paper map out of the glovebox, it resists being refolded along the same creases.

    ~~~

    Here are the answers to which sentences go with which essay, the matching game:

    1. “Sexual Fantasy and the 1957 Car” p. 164 ↩︎
    2. “Why Discussions Go Astray” p.29 ↩︎
    3. “Popular Songs vs the Facts of Life” p. 155 ↩︎
    4. “The Art of Psychoanalysis” p. 210 ↩︎
    5. “Why the Edsel Laid an Egg” p. 169 ↩︎
    6. “You Can’t Write Writing” p. 107 ↩︎
    Map
  • Signs

    Signs

    No Vacancy Next Exit Yield Yellow
    Curves Ahead Jesus Saves 20 is Plenty
    Men Working Wrong Way Slow Down
    Beach Turnout R R Trucks Surf’s Up
    No U-Turn Warning Coming Merge
    Living Together Dinosaur Crossing
    Strong Odor Theatre No Syntax
    Call Mother Footnotes Wait Here
    Boiler Room Home Economics Pool
    Skid Row Lemonade Hardware
    Look Concrete Buy Sell Trade
    Cash for Cool Clothes Shoes Hats
    Only the Lonely Steel Plate Cars
    Dance Tonight Bingo Poker
    Yoga Beer Book Rack Comics
    Yes Short Story Masterpieces
    Happenings Falls Rounding
    Not an Exit Lemon Drops
    People Sleeping in Roadway
    Birds Icy Spots Leery Reckless
    Backstage Backstory Face Front
    1000 Ugly Christmas Sweaters
    Noises Off Flying Goat Coffee
    Trees of Mystery No Roller Skates
    Route 66 Las Vegas Barstow
    Fabulous No Standing Anytime
    Lands End Dip Advertise Here
    Mudslide Homes of Happiness
    End of the Trail No Lifeguard

  • A Year From The Use and Misuse of English Grammar

    We learn grammar when we learn to speak, we know grammar, we pause where we want, when we want, pulling words like fish from our Pond of Vocabulary and stringing them on the line, one after another, one to a hook, using commas instead of periods when we don’t want to be interrupted, YELLing when someone is so rude as to keep on talking when we are trying to interrupt – we fall silent, dashed, a period of rigour-tunge follows (our tongues rigged with rules), then we bounce awake, trim our sails, for we’re surrounded in the Bay of Prescription, the murky waters of communication, with boats of advice all bopping this way and that (there goes the “Do This,” firing across the bow of the “Don’t Do That”), the pond stormy on a storm swept night if there ever was one.

    In Wendell Johnson’s “You Can’t Write Writing,” (The Use and Misuse of Language, 1962, S. I. Hayakawa, ed.), we learn that bad grammar, baby, ain’t our problem: “The late Clarence Darrow, while speaking one day to a group of professors of English and others of kindred inclination, either raised or dismissed the basic problem with which his listeners were concerned by asking, ‘Even if you do learn to speak correct English, who are you going to talk it to?’ Mr. Darrow was contending…the effective use of the English language is more important than the ‘correct’ use of it, and that if you can speak English ‘correctly,’ but not effectively, it does not matter very much ‘who you talk it to’” (101).

    This has implications for those who would aspire to teach writing, and Johnson continues, “The teacher of English appears to attempt to place the emphasis upon writing, rather than upon writing-about-something-for-someone. From this it follows quite inevitably that the student of English fails in large measure to learn the nature of the significance of clarity or precision and of organization in the written representation of facts” (103).

    Grammar is the least of our worries, argues Johnson: “So long as the student’s primary anxieties are made to revolve around the task of learning to spell, punctuate, and observe the rules of syntax, he is not likely to become keenly conscious of the fact that when he writes he is, above all, communicating…his first obligation to his reader is not to be grammatically fashionable but to be clear and coherent” (103).

    Hayakawa, in his introduction, has already explained his interest with regard to how people talk: “We are not worrying about the elegance of their pronunciation or the correctness of their grammar. Basically we are concerned with the adequacy of their language as a ‘map’ of the ‘territory’ of experience being talked about” (vii). And, ultimately, for the reader interested in more than mere prescriptions on how to write, emphasis is placed “not only on what the speakers said, but even more importantly on their attitudes towards their own utterances” (vii).

    Hayakawa sums up his concerns as follows: “What general semanticists mean by ‘language habits’ is the entire complex of (1) how we talk – whether our language is specific or general, descriptive or inferential or judgmental; and (2) our attitudes toward our own remarks – whether dogmatic or open-minded, rigid or flexible” (vii).

    Whenever I hear some self-appointed cop of language (or worse, someone with the badge of a degree), attempting to arrest a speaker’s tongue, putting it in the handcuffs of some prescriptive rule, I think about Hayakawa’s The Use and Misuse of Language.

    But, unforlorn, I’m inclined toward and recline with an infuzen of John Cage, who sums the problem up nicely in his A Year From Monday (1969), which begins with “DIARY: HOW TO IMPROVE THE WORLD (YOU WILL ONLY MAKE MATTERS WORSE) 1965

            I.               Continue; I’ll discover where you

                                sweat  (Kierkegaard).            We are getting

    rid of ownership, substituting use.

    Beginning with ideas.            Which ones can we

    take?            Which ones can we give?

    Disappearance of power politics.            Non-

    measurement.”

    Related:

    “You Can’t Write Writing”
    Baseball and the Parts of Speech
    Stanley Fish, Full of Ethos
    Kicking E. B. White When He’s Down
    The Bare Bodkin of the English Major
    How to Teach College Writing to Nonreaders