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The
Dictionary of Dangerous Words, by Digby Anderson (Social
Affairs Unit, £5.95)
ne
of Confucius's key projects for reforming China was the "rectification
of names." He believed that things must be
called what
they really are, and that to deserve a particular name a thing must
meet very strict definitional requirements. Otherwise the things
themselves would degenerate: People would, for example, be called
"fathers" even though they didn't actually live up to
the standards implied by a rigorous ethical understanding of the
word. He foresaw, one might say, the kind of society in which "father
in name only" would be a common and understandable phrase.
A puckish Confucius
has arisen for our own times, in the elegant person of British journalist
Digby Anderson. Anderson is the founder/director of England's Social
Affairs Unit think tank, and he has compiled a witty anthology of
very short essays by an impressive list of contributors,
including novelists Alice Thomas Ellis and Frederick Forsyth
about today's euphemisms and other tendentiously abused words. The
Dictionary of Dangerous Words is a small volume, but it is dense
with humor and with sharp insight into particular words that,
today, need some Confucius-style rectification.
On the very
first page is an excellent example: Anderson himself analyzes the
word "accident," and how its abuse indicates a growing
(and in fact dangerous) misunderstanding of the events
to which it refers. Anderson cites the traditional definition of
an accident as an "event without apparent cause
unintentional
act, chance, fortune." But he says that we go on using the
word, while paying ever-diminishing respect to this traditional
understanding: "Modern society is averse to the idea that unpleasant
things can happen by chance; it resents the suggestion that there
are events beyond its control. It is even more averse to the idea
that unpleasant things can happen without anyone being to blame.
So, after any accident the first demand is for an inquiry,
better still a 'full and wide ranging inquiry' to find out the cause.
The ultimate object of such an inquiry is to find someone to blame
for the accident."
Anderson's analysis here is absolutely correct. Anybody who has
intimate knowledge of the U.S. Congress is well aware that the reflex
has, by now, become hard-wired into our politicians. Some disaster
happens; a congressional staffer reads an AP story about said disaster;
the congressman goes on TV to call for hearings. Confucius would
point out that today's nanny state with its attendant evils
of high taxes and excessive bureaucracy is built in great
measure on a misunderstanding of the word "accident."
In another
entry, Peter Hitchens puts his finger on what's wrong with the word
"inclusive": It is "designed to exclude, humiliate
or drive away traditionalists and conservatives from established
institutions, by signaling the organizational triumph in such institutions
of extreme or separatist feminism." (In my own view, one of
the worst consequences of traditional sexism is that it has forced
us to endure this sort of adolescent vaunting by the newly liberated;
one looks forward to the day when the equality of men and women
is so generally accepted that we need no longer contort the language
of, e.g., the Bible, to make what should be an obvious point.)
The Dictionary
of Dangerous Words offers intellectual entertainment of a much
higher order than the typical criticisms of politically correct
thought. It hasn't been published in the U.S., but it's available
through amazon.co.uk. Amazon
says they "expect to be able to find" the book in four
to six weeks but Mr. Anderson assures NRO that the Social
Affairs Unit will make them available much sooner than that.
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