Robert Fisk: This
jargon disease is choking language
In the military sex-speak of the Pentagon, Iraq would
endure a 'spike' of violence
I once received an invitation to lecture at "The
University of Excellence". I forget where this
particular academy was located - Jordan, I think - but I
recall very clearly that the suggested subject of my talk
was as incomprehensible to me as it would, no doubt, have
been to any audience. Invitation rejected. Only this week
I received another request, this time to join
"ethics practitioners" to "share
evidence-based practices on dealing with current ethical
practices" around the world. What on earth does this
mean? Why do people write like this?
The word "excellence", of course, has long
ago been devalued by the corporate world - its favourite
expression has long been "Quality and
Excellence", invariably accompanied by a
"mission statement", that claim to
self-importance dreamed up by Robin Cook when foreign
secretary - swiftly ditched when he decided to go on
selling jets to Indonesia - and thereafter by every
export company and amateur newspaper in the world.
There is something repulsive about this vocabulary, an
aggressive language of superiority in which "key
players" can "interact" with each other,
can "impact" society, "outsource"
their business - or "downsize" the number of
their employees. They need "feedback" and
"input". They think "outside the box"
or "push the envelope". They have a "work
space", not a desk. They need "personal
space" - they need to be left alone - and sometimes
they need "time and space", a commodity much in
demand when marriages are failing.
These lies and obfuscations are infuriating.
"Downsizing" employees means firing them;
"outsourcing" means hiring someone else to do
your dirty work. "Feedback" means
"reaction", "input" means
"advice". Thinking "outside the box"
means, does it not, to be "imaginative"?
Being a "key player" is a form of
self-aggrandisement - which is why I never agree to be a
"key speaker", especially if this means
participation in a "workshop". To me a workshop
means what it says. When I was at school, the workshop
was a carpentry shop wherein generations of teachers
vainly tried to teach Fisk how to make a wooden chair or
table that did not collapse the moment it was completed.
But today, a "workshop" - though we mustn't say
so - is a group of tiresome academics yakking in the
secret language of anthropology or talking about
"cultural sensitivity" or "core
issues" or "tropes".
Presumably these are same folk who invented the UN's
own humanitarian-speak. Of the latter, my favourite is
the label awarded to any desperate refugee who is
prepared (for a pittance) to persuade their fellow
victims to abide by the UN's wishes - to abandon their
tents and return to their dangerous, war-ravaged homes.
These luckless advisers are referred to by the UN as
"social animators".
It is a disease, this language, caught by one of our
own New Labour ministers on the BBC last week when he
talked about "environmental externalities".
Presumably, this meant "the weather".
Similarly, an architect I know warned his client of the
effect of the "aggressive saline environment"
on a house built near the sea. If this advice seems
obscure, we might be "conflicted" about it -
who, I ask myself, invented the false reflexive verb? -
or, worse still, "stressed". In northern Iraq
in 1991, I was once ordered by a humanitarian worker from
the "International Rescue Committee" to leave
the only room I could find in the wrecked town of Zakho
because it had been booked for her fellow workers - who
were very "stressed". Pour souls, I thought.
They were stressed, "stressed out", trying - no
doubt - to "come to terms" with their
predicament, attempting to "cope".
This is the language of therapy, in which frauds,
liars and cheats are always trying to escape. Thus
President Clinton's spokesman claimed after his admission
of his affair with Monica Lewinsky that he was
"seeking closure". Like so many mendacious
politicians, Clinton felt - as Lord Blair of Kut al-Amara
will no doubt feel about his bloodbath in Iraq once he
leaves No 10 - the need to "move on".
In the same way, our psycho-babble masters and
mistresses - yes, there is a semantic problem there ,
too, isn't there? - announce after wars that it is a time
for "healing", the same prescription doled out
to families which are "dysfunctional", who live
in a "dystopian" world. Yes, dystopian is a
perfectly good word - it is the opposite of utopian - but
like "perceive" and "perception"
(words once much loved by Jonathan Dimbleby) - they have
become fashionable because they appear enigmatic.
Some newly popular phrases, such as "tipping
point" - used about Middle East conflicts when the
bad guys are about to lose - or "big picture" -
when moralists have to be reminded of the greater good -
are merely fashionable. Others are simply odd. I always
mixed up "bonding" with "bondage" and
"quality time" with a popular assortment of
toffees. I used to think that "increase" was a
perfectly acceptable word until I discovered that in the
military sex-speak of the Pentagon, Iraq would endure a
"spike" of violence until a "surge"
of extra troops arrived in Baghdad.
All this is different, of course, from the non-sexual
"no-brainers" with which we now have to
"cope" - "author" for
"authoress", for example, "actor" for
"actress" - or the fearful linguistic lengths
we must go to in order to avoid offence to Londoners who
speak Cockney: as well all know - though only those of
us, of course, who come from the Home Counties - these
people speak "Estuary" English. It's like those
poor Americans in Detroit who, in fear and trepidation,
avoided wishing me a happy Christmas. "Happy
Holiday!" they chorused until I roared "Happy
Christmas" back. In Beirut, by the way, we all wish
each other "Happy Christmas" and "Happy
Eid", whether our friends are Muslim or Christian.
Is this really of "majorly importance", as an
Irish television producer once asked a colleague of a
news event?
I fear it is. For we are not using words any more. We
are utilising them, speaking for effect rather than
meaning, for escape. We are becoming - as The New Yorker
now describes children who don't care if they watch films
on the cinema screen or on their mobile phones -
"platform agnostic". What, Polonius asked his
lord, was he reading? "Words, words, words,"
Hamlet replied. If only...
http://news.independent.co.uk/world/fisk/article2149736.ece
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