Lies, Damned Lies, and, er, Redundancies

Recently I discussed how copy editors sometimes cultivate irritation excessively, assiduously accumulating pet peeves to arm themselves as language guardians. Now I'm feeling irritated--at a language guardian. The indispensable copy-editing blog A Capital Idea pointed me to an article by Shawn Moynihan in Editor & Publisher, a prescriptivist rant (really and truly) against the phrase "It is what it is." White House press secretary Scott McClellan used the phrase in response to reporters' questions about the government's domestic surveillance, and that has Moynihan in a froth. He calls it "one of the most deflective, idiotic phrases ever to creep into the vernacular" and says that McClellan's use of it means "it is time to draw the line." (Hmmm, that sounds like a tattoo idea: ITTDTL.)

It's one thing to circumvent the truth. It's another thing to lie. But to deflect questions about a topic as crucial as the Bush administration's admitted use of domestic spying by invoking [see note 1 below] one of the most say-nothing, let's-change-the-subject phrases [SNLCTSP--see note 2 below] ever to creep into the English language, is something else entirely.

Apparently the White House can lie as much as it likes, but as soon as it misuses language, it's time to draw the line. Scott McClellan must be wishing he'd picked the straightforwardly evasive "No comment." (Or not: How exactly is a staffer at Editor & Publisher going to draw the line? Forbid newspapers from quoting anyone who uses the phrase?)

The phrase "It is what it is," writes Moynihan, is "about as offensive as it gets to those of us who still care about words and their meaning." He's a proud member of an embattled and dwindling clan of word lovers, and here he presents his membership credentials and philosophy:

Full disclosure here -- as managing editor of E&P, I read a lot of copy. Language in all its forms fascinates me. Communication, be it lingual, physical, musical or otherwise, in the end is really all we have. When used effectively, it is, quite simply, the most powerful weapon in the human arsenal. And when it's misused, for someone who considers word use of great importance, it's deeply offending.

Putting aside the strange "weapon" metaphor (is that really why we value language? And isn't Moynihan accusing McClellan of using language as a weapon?), what's most important here is that a word lover is offended. (And make no mistake--he's really beside himself: He later calls the phrase "absolutely galling.")

In the next paragraph Moynihan addresses the laity:

The phrase "It is what it is," for the uninitiated, is one of the most deflective, meaningless, redundant, and idiotic phrases in the English language. And not surprisingly -- mostly because it's at times useful for ending an argument without having to justify your point -- it's beginning to penetrate the vernacular. And certainly, the White House.

The uninitiated (see note 3 below) had better take his word here, because he doesn't explain why the phrase is "deflective, meaningless, redundant, and idiotic." He must have sensed the futility, since the uninitiated most likely don't read the "Shoptalk" column in Editor & Publisher.

Here's what I'd like to know: If McClellan's linguistic legerdemain is powerful enough to fool the public (or "pull a fast one on the masses," as Moynihan says), how is it so easy for Moynihan to see through it?

Even more puzzling: How can someone believe that crimes against language are worse than lies? It doesn't make much sense until you realize that many prescriptivists see language as the foundation of all morality. If you believe that, then maybe a string of good honest fibs is nothing compared to a single misuse of language. That would be an attack on the moral fiber of society, and that's where you have to draw the line.

Notes:

1. Moynihan's concern about word usage has its limits. I can't find any definition in M-W's Collegiate that corresponds to this usage of "invoking." With an extreme stretch, you might say he means "to put into effect or operation: IMPLEMENT." He was probably going for something with the connotation of "to call forth by incantation : CONJURE." But you can't call forth an incantation by uttering the same incantation. Maybe he should have just said "incanting" or "uttering" instead of "invoking."

2. Whenever someone invokes, er, says something is "one of the most X things ever," it makes me wonder what the other, similarly X things are. Since Moynihan doesn't provide a list, here are some possible candidates. The ur-SNLCTSP has got to be "Whatever." Just ask Russell Crowe, who was provoked by "Whatever" to draw the line with a hotel telephone. Another is the old Budweiser line "Why ask why?" which hasn't managed to creep as far into the English language as "Whatever." One that never quite crept into the English language at all is "Que sera, sera." Actually, it's surprising we haven't heard that one in a press conference yet--it has a Rumsfeldian ring. If we draw the line now, maybe we can keep it from creeping in.

3. Actually, it's not clear from the syntax whether (1) he's addressing the uninitiated or (2) he's saying that only the uninitiated consider the phrase "meaningless." I'll assume he's addressing them. (But then wouldn't "for the initiated" be a dangling modifier?)

When I Hear the Word "Memoir," I Reach for My Polygraph

Among other valuable neurotic traits (like a sense of irritation, which helps you spot errors), copy editors have to cultivate a certain level of paranoia. It's productive to be irrationally suspicious of every sentence. But when you're at home reading, say, the Sunday New York Times, you'd like to be able to turn off the skepticism switch and sit back and enjoy.

That was my state of mind yesterday as I clicked on Leah Hager Cohen's review of a memoir called My Fundamentalist Education, by Christine Rosen, who attended a Christian school as a child. Repose swiftly gave way to vigilance, however, after I read the hackneyed and tendentious opening sentences:

Hear the phrase "religious fundamentalism" and you are likely to picture a Qaeda training camp in Afghanistan, Jewish settlers resisting removal from the Gaza Strip or the slaying of abortion doctors in the United States. But the fundamentalists described by Christine Rosen in her closely observed memoir bear little resemblance to the extremists who have become the staple of the nightly newscasts.

This is written by (or addressed to) someone who thinks entirely in stereotypes. Who else would find it surprising that not all fundamentalists are violent extremists? Can the Times really be this simple-minded? Suppressing the urge to hit the "back" button, I read on, my innocent curiosity having turned morbid, to see whether Rosen's "close observations" could rescue us from the realm of lazy media cliche.

As I feared, the bits Cohen quotes leave us mired in stereotype. The fundamentalists depicted in Rosen's book are not extremists, they're just tacky white trash, for whom getting to Bible camp requires "a sweltering two-hour ride in the church van." Once there, campers swim in an "algae-covered lake." The mothers of Rosen's Christian-school classmates wear "vinyl mock-croc pumps and polyester-blend dresses from Sears. Visiting missionaries have 'out-of-date clothes' and 'badly cut hair.' "

The truth is, this is precisely what many people picture when they hear the phrase "religious fundamentalism": poor, ignorant, fashion-challenged rednecks. The reviewer has replaced one stereotype ("fundamentalists are extremists") with another ("fundamentalists are hicks"), neither of which gets us beyond the "staples of the nightly newscasts." On the contrary, we're simply having a different set of snobbish preconceived notions confirmed.

In a paranoid leap, I recalled what Ana Marie Cox had said about former Times reporter Rick Bragg (who lost his job because some of his claims to have actually observed what he wrote about turned out to be false), that he was the master of the "Platonic ideal of Timesian condescension." (And what is the phrase "vinyl mock-croc pumps and polyester-blend dresses from Sears" if not a Platonic ideal of white-trash tackiness?) Could something like this be going on here? I wondered. In the wake of the Frey fiasco it's hard to know what to think. Don't confabulators like Frey (and Bragg and Stephen Glass and Jason Blair) pull off their feats by making their fabrications conform to what readers already believe or want to believe?

My flight of fancy was ludicrous, of course. I have no doubt that Rosen experienced her church ladies firsthand. And it could well be that her book is a lot more nuanced than what is conveyed by the Times review. But right now the word “memoir” sets off alarm bells, and on Sunday mornings I don't want to be in paranoid-copy-editor mode. So no more reviews of memoirs for me, at least in the Sunday Times.