The Right Word in the Right Place at the Right Time (19 page)

Example of circular question-begging: “Parallel lines never meet because they are parallel.” That takes you right around the barn and back where you started.

Example of linear question-begging: “Anything Safire says about anything is suspect because you can’t believe what you read in the newspapers.” All the people who fervently believe that to be true make no legitimate argument because they take for granted a premise that is unproven. Their solution to that would be to offer proof: “Safire is suspect because he misspelled the name of James Madison’s wife (Hello, Dolley!).” That causes me to beg pardon, not question.

Schoolteachers should petition their principals to stop taking for granted this abuse of fair argument. Let us now turn to the second most constant gripe of ophthalmologists (the first is the tendency of linguistic Magoos to pronounce the first syllable of their profession with a “p” rather than the correct “f”).

“
Myopic,
in ophthalmological practice,” writes Heskel Haddad, MD, “is a person with sharp vision at near. However, it is often used to connote someone as ‘narrow-minded.’ ”

That’s the meaning Ralph Nader had in mind at the Detroit Economic Club last year, when he called the assembled auto executives who opposed tighter fuel economy standards “craven and
myopic
.”

The Greek
myops
means “shortsighted.” Distant objects cannot be seen sharply because light entering the eye is focused in front of the retina.

Shortsighted
and
nearsighted
are interchangeable, according to the ophthalmologist Malvin Krinn, MD, of Washington. “But
nearsighted
may sound a little more sophisticated.”

The word
myopia
was coined in 1693, and the meaning was soon extended. In 1801, the poet and novelist Charlotte Smith wrote of “the
myopia
of the mind,” and in 1891 Oliver Wendell Holmes, the poet of the breakfast table, referred to “the kind of partial blindness which belongs to intellectual
myopia
.”

Because their word’s meaning was stolen so long ago, eye doctors should blink away their tears at the loss. Besides, the general sense has a nice metaphoric connection to the eye: “lack of foresight.”

Ecologists, however, have a more legitimate beef. “One of my many pet peeves,” notes Terence Ball of Phoenix, “concerns people who speak of President Bush and others ‘hurting the
ecology
.’ What they mean is ‘hurting the natural environment.’ ” Nancy Eldblom, a field botanist in Potsdam, New York, says, “Here’s an example of ‘stealing’ an entire branch of science: using
ecology,
the life science ‘concerned with the interrelationship of organisms and their environments,’ to mean the environment generally.”

My call: if you’re discussing that branch of biology dealing with the way living organisms relate to their surroundings, use
ecology,
rooted in the Greek for “dwelling.” If you’re talking about air or water pollution or global warming (now renamed “global climate change”), use
environment,
from the Latin
viron,
“circle.” (Lincoln: “I am environed with difficulties.”) If you just want to apply a political label,
green
will do fine.

“Equating
theory
with
hypothesis
is the booboo that boils the blood,” fulminates Joe Rosen of Bethesda, Maryland. Judith Weis, president of the American Institute of Biological Sciences, agrees: “In science, the word
theory
refers to an underlying principle of observed phenomena that has been tested and verified. However, in common usage, it has come to mean ‘hunch’ or ‘speculation’ (what the word
hypothesis
means in science).”

While scientists who admire precision often treat the word
theory
as “a confirmed hypothesis,” lexicographers since 1706 have defined it as “a sup-position” far from proven. I recall sitting in a box with Henry Kissinger at a Washington football game; when the referee outrageously penalized the Redskins for pass interference, Henry rose to his feet, shook his fists and shouted, “On vot
theory
?” Strictly speaking, he meant
hypothesis,
but “only a
theory
”—as against demonstrated fact—is a longtime sense of the term.

Sports enthusiasts as well as scientists defend their linguistic turf. “Rail-birds bristle at the misuse of
track record,
” vents Dan Hely of Carlisle, Pennsylvania, who reminds us that the track record for the mile and a half at Belmont is 2 minutes, 24 seconds, held by Secretariat since 1973. Yeah, adds David Hawkins of Brooklyn: “As a former horseplayer, I get exercised at the use of
track record
as in ‘the track record shows that he’ll make a good president.’ A track record is the fastest time ever recorded for a specific distance at a given track. The racing term that should be used is
past performance
.”

All this raises, not begs, the question: are specialists understandably miffed at the expropriation of their precise vocabulary by the generalist “meaning thieves”? Sure; but they don’t own the words and should stop being so myopic.

When Dr. Kissinger questioned the referee’s call with the phrase, “on vot theory?” his intended meaning may have been closer to “theorem” than either “theory” or “hypothesis.”

The rules of a game are axioms in a system of logic, and the decisions as to whether a violation has occurred, and if so, the penalty, are theorems derived by deduction from the rules. If the facts of the incident were in question, then the scientific terminology would be appropriate, but if it were a matter of the interpretation of the rules, then the language of logic would apply.

Andrew Raybould

Irvington,New York

It is indeed good to petition principals because school administrators need to be asked to do this kind of thing. Or am I committing
petitio principii?

Edward M. Young

Pasadena, California

I became a bit concerned at your final sentence where you pointed out that specialists “don’t own the words and should stop being so myopic.” Apparently you felt that it doesn’t matter if the public takes a specialist’s term and uses it in a different way. Well, I’ll give you one example of how it can matter enormously.

Although we know for a fact that biological evolution occurs—it’s observed to occur both in the lab and in the field—many people don’t believe it and go so far as to insist that it not be taught in public schools without some disclaimer or suggested alternative. Any of these doubters like to say that evolution is “only a theory,” not realizing that, in science, the term
theory
has a very specific meaning and implies a large amount of supporting evidence (as you recently explained in your column).

When I lecture about this, I always have to point out that scientific theory is not merely speculation and, many times, is a confirmed fact. (An example of this is the “theory of flight,” about which all aviation students must learn. Although we use the word
theory
here, there is, of course, no doubt that airplanes can fly.)

So, in the case of evolution and the push to cast doubt on it in public schools, the public’s misuse of the specialist’s term is creating a situation in which large numbers of people are at risk of becoming, to varying degrees, scientifically illiterate. That’s not merely myopia; that’s outright blindness to mankind’s impressive scientific progress, the methods we use to achieve that progress, and the folly of impeding that progress in the future!

Matthew Bobrowsky, PhD

Challenger Center for Space Science Education

Alexandria, Virginia

G

Galumphers.
In a review of the latest work of the modern dancer Mark Morris, Anna Kisselgoff, the
New York Times
dance critic, used a verb of great piquancy: “Mr. Morris
galumphs
with charm.”

Alice Cheang, writing in the
Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies,
used it to describe a belly-rubbing self-caricature by the poet Su Shih: “This leisurely rambler
galumphs
merrily through the woods in pursuit of a view of the ‘tall bamboo.’” In the
Los Angeles Times,
Susan Spano reported from Costa Rica about a sea turtle: “It’s a big black blur in the shallows that starts to take shape as it
galumphs
up the beach on powerful front fins ill suited to terrestrial locomotion.”

The verb began as a concoction of Lewis Carroll in his
Through the Looking Glass
. The beamish boy slew the burbling jabberwock with his vorpal blade, which went snicker-snack: “He left it dead, and with its head / He went
galumphing
back.”

Most scholarly speculation about what was going on in Carroll’s mind as he coined the word suggests
galumph
is an amalgam of
gallop
and
triumphant
. The coinage applies nicely to sea turtles, happy yogic exercisers and expressive dancers, not to mention a parade of journalists traipsing after candidates through the primaries.

Gentile-American Person’s Guide.
“What disturbs me,” writes Jack Tucker from somewhere in cyberspace, “is the politically correct way that Senator Joseph Lieberman has to be referred to on television: ‘a Jewish person.’ The media don’t want to say he is a ‘Jew’ because the word sounds so harsh.”

Not only is Mr. Tucker correct in construing
media
as plural, he is also sensitive to the oversensitivity of some newscasters. He was not the only one to notice the lengthy terminology: in a related vein, a call came from Gerald Rafshoon, the documentary producer who was a Carter White House aide, to ask, “How come I never hear ‘Episcopalian-American’?”

The use of the word
Jew
is not a problem in print journalism; both the
New York Times
and the
Washington Post
headlined “First
Jew
on Major U.S. Ticket.” One reason is to save space, a consideration of all headline writers; another is that speaking—even in quick news flashes—differs from writing. Speaking is more personal. That’s why many in broadcast and cable news preferred
first Jewish person
or
first Jewish-American
or even
first person of the Hebrew faith
to be so named. They had the vague feeling that the monosyllabic word might be taken as offensive—as it is when delivered with a curled lip—and went out of their way not to offend.

No Jew would say, “I am a Jewish person” or, except in the most formal circumstances, “Mine is the Hebrew faith.” Jews are comfortable with the adjective, “I’m Jewish,” or the noun, “I’m a Jew.” The reluctance of non Jews to use the “harsh” word is well intentioned, but such overly sensitive shying-away from the J-noun draws a sardonic smile from some Jews.

Formerly, when many whites referred to blacks in their speech, they hesitated to apply the noun to a person; instead of saying, “He’s a black,” they would say, “He’s a black guy,” as if the use of
black
as an adjective to modify
guy
somehow removed it from any interpretation as derogation. This awkwardness was removed by the adoption of
African-American;
that compound noun is not as stark as
black
.

Nouns often sound harsher than the adjectives on which they are based; thus
Jew
is felt to be stronger than
Jewish,
which could also be taken to mean “like a Jew.” Take
blond/blonde
: “She’s
blond
” is acceptable as a description of hair color, but
she’s a blonde,
using the noun form to impute fun-loving characteristics, could be taken by some to be the newly dread lookism.

What about
Jewish-American;
is it any different from
American Jew
? Yes; the difference is context. When I am in a voting booth, I can fairly be counted by demographers to be
Jewish-American,
and when I am in a synagogue, I can be identified as an
American Jew
.

Back to Senator Lieberman. He is undeniably a person and a member of a religious faith, but the quick identification is best:
Joe’s a Jew
. So is his wife, Hadassah, whose name is the Hebrew equivalent of Esther. The feminine form
Jewess,
popularized in Sir Walter Scott’s
Ivanhoe
(1820), has long been considered sexist, like
actress
.

“Jew” is a perfectly good, and short, word and I resent and resist efforts to expunge it because bigots over the centuries have used it as pejorative. Doth a Jew not bleed? I am neither orthodox nor observant but proud to be, and be called, a Jew.

Jack Rosenthal

The New York Times Company Foundation

New York, New York

The day after Lieberman was chosen, I was listening to the
Today
show and everybody down to Al Roker was calling him a “Jewish-American.” It sounded odd to me, like Irish-American or Italo-American. I was chatting later with Tim Russert, who had been one of the talking heads, and he thought about it and agreed, and then suggested to his colleagues that they drop the phrase. Then Lieberman went on
Meet the Press
and used the term repeatedly, hisownself.

Adam Clymer

The New York Times

Washington, D.C.

Kenneth Tynan dreamt that Harold Pinter and Lady Antonia Fraser are living in Sam Spiegel’s New York penthouse, a garish leather-padded pleasure dome full of marble grilles and priceless art work. (He had gone to Sam’s house-warming party there and when he was asked what he thought of the place, said: “It looks like the men’s room at the Taj Mahal.”)

Q: Lady Antonia, can you confirm that you are a convert to Judaism?

Antonia: Yes, but as Dr. Jonathan Miller once said, “I’m not a Jew. I’m Jew-ish.”

Q: Mr. Pinter, are you aware that this apartment was once likened to the men’s room at the Taj Mahal?

Pinter: Yes, but it’s not a lav. It’s lav-ish.

Paul Streeten

Spencertown, New York

Hadassah.
I erred in writing that the first name of Senator Lieberman’s wife,
Hadassah,
was “the Hebrew equivalent of Esther.” I was misled by every translation I can find of the Old Testament passage Esther 2:7, which reads, “And he brought up
Hadassah,
that is, Esther.” In that passage,
that is
is confusing.

The Hebrew word
hadas
means “myrtle.” It does not mean, nor is it the equivalent of,
Esther,
which may be the Hebraized form of
Ishtar,
a Persian goddess. In the Bible, the beautiful Jewish girl
Hadassah
took the name of
Esther
to better fit in with Persian society, where she became the queen of Xerxes and was able to save her people from annihilation.

Whoever next translates the Bible would do political pundits a favor by changing “Hadassah, that is, Esther” to “Hadassah,
also known as
Esther.”

Gig a Bite.
After taking criticism for the cost of his government-subsidized office rental in New York, former President Bill Clinton announced that his foundation would pick up part of the cost of the park-view space. “I’m not going to let the taxpayer get
gigged
on this,” he assured reporters, and subsequently moved his office quest to Harlem.

Clinton has used that term before. He was asked by CNN’s Larry King in 1995 if he was likely to appear on David Letterman’s show, in light of the CBS late-night host’s caustic joking about the prices that the government paid for goods and services. “Since we got this procurement reform passed,” Clinton replied, “there are no more of those ten-dollar ashtrays and five-hundred-dollar hammers. So he’s got no
gig
anymore.”

In Clinton’s usage, the noun
gig
seems to be a pointed complaint. A century ago, George Ade, in his
Modern Fables,
wrote: “The Old Gentleman was very rough on Wallie. He gave him the
Gig
at every opportunity.” In army use, a
gig
was a demerit, and if you were
gigged
often enough, you would be expelled from West Point.

The noun has a second meaning, which originated in jazz lingo: “an engagement to perform, usually for a single evening.” In black talk, to work a series of short-term jobs is to
gig around
. But that’s not what we’re talking about here.

The slang verb to
gig,
as in “let the taxpayer get
gigged,
” primarily means “to cheat.” Earlier recorded use was in a
Dialect Notes
in 1914: “Say, didn’t you
gig
me a little on the price of that room?”

The word comes from fishing. A
fishgig
is a spear. “At each End of the Canoe stands an Indian,” noted a history of Virginia in 1722, “with a
Gig,
or pointed Spear … stealing upon the Fish, without any Noise.” Thus, to
gig
the taxpayer is “to stick it to him.”

Go, To!
When you’re in trouble; when you need someone to pull you out of a hole; when your desperate circumstance cries out for a reliable partner, a trustworthy executor, a situational savior—to whom do you go?

At that brink of disaster, you do not go to your spiritual adviser or your spouse, nor your lawyer or broker. You go to your
go-to
guy.

“Cheney … Carves Out Role as
Go-To
Guy,” headlined the
Boston Globe
. Howard Kurtz of the
Washington Post
called the frequently quoted think-tank analyst Marshall Wittmann, a master of sound bites, “the
go-to
guy for legions of journalists.”

The phrase
go to
was used in medieval times to dismiss with contempt, a brushoff currently expressed as
g’wan
or
geddoutaheah
. However, the origin of the alliterative encomium
“go-to
guy” is in football. A
go-to
receiver, the fourth edition of the
American Heritage Dictionary
alertly notes, is a player “relied upon to make important plays, especially in clutch situations.” While a body man is useful, a
go-to
guy is essential.