| tyranny of words |
| 1 | CHAPTER I A WRITER IN SEARCH OF HIS WORDS I HAVE written several books and many articles, but only lately have I begun to inquire into the nature of the tools I use. This is a curious oversight when one stops to consider it. Carpenters, masons, and engineers who give no thought to their tools and instruments are not likely to erect very durable structures. Yet I follow a procedure common to most writers, for few of us look to our tools. |
| 2 | We sometimes study synonyms, derivations, rhythm, style, but we rarely explore the nature of words them- selves. We do not inquire if they are adequate instruments for building a durable structure of human communication. Language, whether English, French, or Chinese, is taken for granted, a basic datum. Writers search their memories for a better word to use in a given context but are no more in the habit of questioning language than of questioning the weather. |
| 3 | There it is. We assume that we know exactly what we mean, and that readers who do not under- stand us should polish their wits. Years ago I read a little book by Allen Upward called The New Word. It was an attempt to get at the meaning of idealism' as used in the terms of the Nobel Prize award — an award for the most distinguished work of an idealist tendency '. Upward began his quest — which was ultimately to lead him over the living world and back to the dawn of written history — ^by asking a number of his friends to give their personal interpretation of the term idealism'. |
| 4 | He received the following replies: fanatical altruistic not practical exact poetical intangible sentimental true what cannot be proved opposite of materialism something to do with imaginative powers This gave me pause. I thought I knew what idealism' meant right enough and had used it many times with 2 confidence. Obviously, on the basis of Upward's study, what I meant was rarely if at all communicated to the hearer. |
| 5 | Indeed, on examining my own mental processes I had some difficulty in determining what I did mean by this lofty word. Thereafter I was unable to escape an uneasy feeling, slight but persistent — ^like a mouse heard in the wall of a room — ^that something was wrong-. This feeling was strengthened when I stumbled upon a little brochure by H. G. Wells, written I believe for the Fabian Society, which dealt with what he termed a criticism of the instrument*. |
| 6 | The forceps of the mind, he said, were clumsy forceps and crushed the truth a little when grasping it. Hum . . . something in that. Even more unsettling was the profound observation of Lao Tse: Those who know do not tell ; Those who tell do not know. To a writer dealing in ideas this aphorism became presently unendurable. Better to put it away on a dark shelf, duly classified as an ancient Chinese wisecrack. |
| 7 | Another matter which distressed me was that I found it almost impossible to read philosophy. The great words went round and round in my head until I became dizzy. Sometimes they made pleasant music, but I could rarely effect passage between them and the real world of experi- ence. William James I could usually translate, but the great classics had almost literally no meaning to me — just a haughty parade of truth', substance', infinite', absolute', oversoul', the universal', the nominal', the eternal'. |
| 8 | As these works had been acclaimed for cen- turies as part of the priceless cultural heritage of mankind, it seemed obvious that something in my intellectual equip- ment was seriously deficient. I strove to understand Plato, Aristotle, Spinoza, Hobbes, Kant, Hegel, Herbert Spencer, Schopenhauer. The harder I wrestled, the more the solemn procession of verbal ghosts circled through my brain, mocking my ignorance. |
| 9 | Why was this? Was I alone at fault, or was there something in the structure of language itself which checked conununication? Meanwhile, I had long been aware of the alarming A WRITER IN SEARCH OF HIS WORDS 3 futility of most of the literature dedicated to economic and social reform. As a young reformer I had organized meetings, written pamphlets, prepared lectures, concocted programmes, spread publicity with enthusiasm. |
| 10 | Those already inclined to my point of view attended the meetings, read the pamphlets, listened to the lectures, adopted the programmes, but the apathy of the unconverted was as colossal as it was baffling. As the years went by it became apparent that I was largely wasting my time. The message — and I still believe it was a human and kindly message — had not got through; communication was blocked. What we reformers meant was not what our hearers thought we meant. |
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