What do you mean by…

A week or so ago, my lady wife asked me if doing an MA proved to be useful. I’ll answer that question more fully on my other blog in due course, but one thing that occurred to me right away is that it made me even more cognisant of the importance of using the correct word, or using a given word correctly.

Now, when I was an undergraduate I poked gentle fun at this quest for precision in one of my articles for the student newspaper (see below), but it really came to the fore while studying for an MA. In particular, I decided that my dissertation would aim to answer this apparently simple question:

What economics education is available to adults in London?

I discovered very quickly (after having that topic approved), that the definitions of the terms “economics education”, “adult” and “London” are not clear cut.

To take just one example: a 16 year-old in an adult education evening class counts as an adult; the same 16 year-old in school counts as a child.

3 examples of imprecision

I’ve had a few experiences where people have used the wrong word, two of these in the field of medicine, which is a bit worrying to say the least.

Example 1

A few years ago I was suffering from terrible tiredness. In the end I realised it was a post-viral malaise, as I’d had a really bad flu a few months before, but as I was worried before that insight I thought I ought to go to the doctor. I had an initial consultation with the nurse. After I’d explained the problem, we had this conversation:

Nurse: How long have you been feeling weak?

Me: Since never. I’m not feeling weak.

Nurse: You said you‘ve been feeling very tired.

Me: Yes, tired, not weak. I’m as strong as an ox.

Was I being pedantic? Maybe, but she was writing down stuff for my medical records, plus if she had decided I needed medication I preferred to be given a prescription for my actual condition rather than one she mistakenly thought I had. Anyway, it was enough to make me not wish to return, and sort the issue out for myself.

Example 2

I was referred to someone in a hospital as I had a problem with one of my feet. She did nothing. We had this conversation:

Me: Can you do something about this?

Specialist: Nothing needs to be done.

Me: Why not?

Specialist: It’s very discreet.

Me: Discreet? What do you mean by “discreet”?

Specialist: It’s only a small problem.

Since when has “discreet” meant “small”?

Example 3

I attended a talk on assessment, in which the speaker said that X had never been done. I emailed her afterwards to say that I found her talk very interesting, but that she was incorrect: X had been done by the government in 2004. She emailed me back to say she was glad I found her talk useful.

Eh?

When did I say that? I said it was interesting. Interesting does not mean useful.

Incidentally, I read that whenever Arthur C. Clarke received a mad idea in a letter from someone, he replied “There may be something in what you say”. That served to give the person reassurance that their idea was being taken seriously, while not committing Clarke to think any more about it. By a similar token, I can see why someone might interpret “interesting” as “useful”, but it’s a bit self-delusional. Or can be.

A lighthearted variation

I used this in a jocular way a few years ago. At the end of a three day course, which was excellent, we all had lunch before going our separate ways. Afterwards, I had a word with the trainer:

Me: I’d like to say how useful and enjoyable the last three days have been.

Trainer [looking at me suspiciously]: You’d like to say it?

Me: Yes.

Trainer: But you’re not going to?

Me: No.

He knew I was joking, and we had a good laugh, but had I not found the course useful and enjoyable that would have been an accurate thing to say (or write in my evaluation)!

My gentle ribbing

As I said at the beginning of this article, I took the rise out of this approach in one of my articles for the student newspaper, Guild Gazette. I’m not suggesting it was winning literature, or roll-on-the-floor hilarious — the idea of the column was to take a wry look at the kinds of issues students might experience. But I had a bit of a following, and I know that at least one of my lecturers read my column each week. That was an extra incentive to write something that sent up academia and academic writing.

Well, with no further ado, here’s that article. Enjoy.

The Terry Freedman View, 21 November 1972

In the last edition of Gazette, I expounded the art of not studying. This week, I should like to put forward some hypotheses on the art of being an intellectual. This article is adapted front a lecture I gave at the 1970 Conference of the National Cynics' Society, and is also published in pamphlet form by the N.C.S.

First, we should consider why anyone should want to be intellectual. The answer to this question is extremely complicated, involving as it does socio-economic-psychological factors, all of which are inter-related so as to blur the distinction between cause and effect.

So far, it can be seen that I am appearing to be intellectual. In particular, the above paragraph, while not saying anything of any significance, suggests I have carried out much research on the subject (which I have, in the Riley bar for instance [Editor’s note: The Riley Bar was the bar in the students’ union building.]). Thus I have given a demonstration of intellectualism.

The importance and scope of being an intellectual was first realised, perhaps, by the late Stephen Potter, author of the "one-upmanship" books. Study of his chairman and lecturer ploys, and the Canterbury Block, reveals this basic approach— of appearing to know something of which, in reality, one has not the slightest idea. This basic approach has been used in the Bluff Your Way” books. But there is a more basic approach to intellectualism or, more appropriately, pseudo-intellectualism. Whereas the two established approaches respectively involve giving the impression of knowing a subject well either by: (a) asking an irrelevant question regarding the subject matter which no one can answer, or (b) by acting very efficiently and, in the field of literature, making up "quotations", this "new" approach involves questioning the very terms of reference of the subject. In fact, it is not a new approach (as indicated by the quotation marks) but it is new in the sense that it has never been analysed. An example of this approach would be a follows:

Jones: After 1870, the output c the coal industry declined.

Smith: What period are you referring to, i.e. to World War 1, or when? What do you mean by output? What type of coal? How have you measured the industry? Relative or absolute decline?

Now, these are all legitimate questions in themselves. BUT, Jones wants to establish the general fact that the coal industry declined so as to go on talking about the increase of research into more efficient oil refineries. It is obvious that he will never get to this stage with Smith carrying on like this. In fact, he will start to stammer and eventually have a nervous breakdown. This leads people to think (a) Jones is in articulate; (b) Smith is an intellectual; (c) Smith is a bore. Thus, people will avoid saying anything to Smith for fear of either being bored stiff or of being asked to qualify everything they say. ("What do you mean, it's warmer than yesterday? Centigrade or Fahrenheit? What part of the country? What part of the world?”).

This type of pseudo-intellectualism also has a further advantage Whereas an invented quotation can be spotted, or an air of efficiency seen for what it is, the "Systematic Obstruction Method" (SOM) cannot be detected, since it is the method used by real intellectuals, although they call it the "Removal of Ambiguities and Fallacious Argument" (RAFA).

However, there is one very good and proven method of distinguishing real and pseudo-intellectuals. Jones merely says to Smith "You tell us all about it then" or, perhaps more to the point, asks Smith where he acquired his knowledge. There are, of course, variations in this technique, depending on the actual situation. The responses of the "Smiths" in question will reveal whether they are real intellectuals (hereafter referred to as R.I.). or psuedointellectuals (hereafter referred to as P.I.).

An even better approach, however. is the statistical one. Let X be the number of words in Jones sentence. Y is the number of times Smith questions the use of a word. Thus:

(Y/X) x 100

will yield the percentage of interruptions.

If this percentage is greater than 50 per cent, Smith is a P.I., assuming, of course, that Jones is not an idiot. If he is, Smith may be justified in interrupting so much, and could well be an R.I.

It is hoped that the Systematic Obstruction Method of pseudo intellectualism will, in the future, receive more attention, and be the subject of more empirical studies, than it has in the past.

Further reading:

1. "SOM: an analytical approach" by Fred Terryman.

2. "Basic Intellectualism" by I.D. Napper