Tag Archives: political campaigns

Contradictory Words

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As I worked my leisurely way through the Sunday paper a week ago, one phrase stopped me in my tracks.  The New York Times, which should know better, referred to a “very mediocre” rock band. According to my dictionary, “mediocre” means “moderate” or “not very good.” So “very mediocre” means “very moderate” or “very not very good.” Aren’t you glad I cleared that up? Nice to know that something can be extremely not extreme.

That experience sent me to my picture files, to see whether I had any photos of signs with contradictory meanings. I found this one:

A specialized generalist.

A specialized generalist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was a kid, my doctor was a “general practitioner.” He was good at many areas of medicine, but when things got interesting, he sent me to a specialist. This sign in a 24-hour, no-appointment-necessary, storefront clinic leads me to believe that the “multispecialty physicians” inside are, in fact, the 2016 version of  “general practitioners.” They may have the medical equivalent of several masters degrees, but I doubt it. I’m not complaining about the medical aspect of this sign. The docs inside may provide excellent care. I am complaining about the language, which is much less precise (I hope) than the diagnoses and remedies dispensed  there.

One more example of a contradictory statement comes from an official notice taped to a streetlight on my corner, announcing a public hearing on issues affecting the neighborhood. Here’s item three of the agenda:

Restricted to?

Restricted to?

Turning again to the dictionary, I found that “restricted” means “admitting only members of a particular class.” Thus a street “restricted to” vendors is a street where vendors are allowed — but nothing or no one else. No stores, cars, residents, annoying little kids on scooters — you get the point. I spent the rest of my walk trying to reword the agenda item to reflect the most likely intended meaning: how to keep hotdog carts, ice cream trucks, tables piled with “designer” handbags, and other such vendors off the block. Expressing this idea concisely was surprisingly hard. “Restricted from” doesn’t do the job, nor does “restricted against.” I came up with “barred,” in this revised wording: “Discussion of the process of barring venders from a street.” Alternate versions welcome.

I know I’m being picky (what else is new?), but I do believe that language should be precise. How different would our current political campaign be if every candidate followed this principle, even if their command of the language was “very mediocre”!

Political Speech

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I am not, in this season of completely unexpected but totally inevitable political events, going to talk about the language some presidential candidates have used for the size, shape, and function of body parts belonging to themselves and their loved ones. In that, by the way, I am part of a group small enough to meet in the elevator of my building. An elevator which, like most in New York, is not all that big. (There. I’ve justified including this topic in my blog by creating a microscopic link to New York City. Now, back to politics.)

In this post I turn my attention to how campaigns end –  not that many do. Instead, candidates now “suspend” their bids for the nomination. “To suspend” is to call a temporary halt to an action, to pause before resuming whatever was suspended. It’s less permanent than “dropping out,” “ceasing,” or, heaven help us, “giving in.” Since the days of Richard Nixon, who famously said that he was “not a quitter” (and, at another time, that he was also “not a crook”), presidential hopefuls have suspended and not ended their efforts. Mostly. Mike Huckabee, who I expect would disagree with me on many issues, is my favorite campaign-ender. He said that he stopped running for president because of illness: “Voters are sick of me.” Now that’s honesty.

All this suspending makes me wonder whether the candidates are secretly hoping that at the last minute they will be called out of seclusion (“suspended animation”?) to become their party’s standard-bearer. And this year those hopes may not be entirely unrealistic. But what about other definitions of “suspend”? “The word also means “to hang something.” Because it’s “something” and not “someone,” I doubt this definition applies to any candidates’ secret hopes.  Finally, “suspend” may be “to hold off punishment until a specified period of time passes without further offenses.” Politicians may hope that this definition applies and that they will escape punishment for their campaign excesses, but the rest of us . . . well, most of us view “without further offenses” as a poor bet. Like, awesomely poor. Epically poor. The greatest poor ever.

See? The language of this campaign is contagious. I’d better suspend this post now.

A lie by any other name . . .

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A recent reference to “false facts” in an article in my hometown paper, The New York Times, set me to thinking about the ways journalists talk about lies. Given the current presidential campaign, this is a hot topic. My first reaction to “false facts” was that the phrase is an oxymoron . . . a contradiction of itself. If something is false, it’s not a fact. If it’s a fact, it’s not false. Other popular ways to refer to lies are “misstatements,” “misunderstandings,” “exaggerations,” “stretches,” and “wrong impressions” (this last from the liar who says something like “I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression” when caught).

Despite my reference to lies, I do know that a “false fact” may simply be a mistake, not an attempt to mislead. I am holding onto that belief with both hands lately, with flashbacks to the days when I hoped for, but did not expect, the Tooth Fairy to be real.

Yet how should the media characterize what Politifact (note the name) calls “pants on fire” assertions? One tactic is not to label something as true or false but instead to present information alongside contradictory claims. The problem, of course, is that this approach sometimes leads to the mere appearance of fairness and gives credence to the ridiculous, as in “a member of the Flat Earth Society countered NASA’s claims of that Earth is a spherical planet.”

Nor is the opposite approach perfect. If we rely on pundits to decide what’s factual or fanciful, we’d better make sure that we have great pundits. Extraordinarily wise pundits. Impeccable pundits! All of which are as abundant as unicorns. Complicating the problem, of course, is the fact (and I do assert it as a fact) that many people seek out an expert who will confirm what they already believe.

But this is a post about language, not politics. Back to “false facts”: I’d replace that term with “false information” or “false statements,” with accompanying proof.  And if it’s intentional, I vote for “lie.” This political season, that may be the only choice I have.