Language Standards Are Cool

by David Gottlieb 

I guess I'm another member of the fringe linguistic-reactionary youth (read: "young fuddy-duddy"): I'm seventeen and I think the presence of normative standards in English is cool. I'm writing this, of course, because several things from Hobbes's recent editorial on the subject rubbed me the wrong way. My problems with his piece centered around a few main issues: the "social conventions" that dictate standards in writing, the strict segregation of "idea" from "language," and some assorted pseudointellectual stuff about language. Here goes.

First things first. Hobbes accuses the previous author (Mr. Maciel) of not leaving us with a real explanation of why "a resume should be perfect." Hobbes bravely fills this void with the nebulous blanket-explanation of "social convention." But really, he hasn't helped us at all: he does nothing to explain why social convention dictates such behavior for resumes but not for notes passed in class. Are we to believe this is some artifact of random organization, that it's mere chance resumes have to be all fancy and scrawled notes can be scrawled notes? Of course not, that's silly. There has to be another reason, and Hobbes hasn't left us so much as a clue.

I'm gonna take a shot at this reason, primarily because I don't think it's such a mystery. Actually, I think there are two main reasons (one pretty specific to resumes). First of all, the ability to put together a resume can reflect on an applicant's abilities in job-related areas. Obviously, typo-hunting should not be the only factor in choosing employees. But then again, nobody's suggesting it should: rejecting an otherwise qualified potential employee on the basis of a single keyboard error is an extreme example that doesn't helpfully inform a debate about language. If we can get beyond this example, it should be easy to see how the way a resume is constructed can be useful in evaluating its creator. But even if you don't buy that, my second reason is more important and more universal: more precision is required of language that is more complex and important. When there is more potential for confusion, and the repercussions of misinterpretation are more significant, it's perfectly logical that more measures be taken to ensure the communication is read correctly, and it is here that grammar, spelling, and other facets of language which Hobbes dislikes come into play. The examples of resumes and of passed notes both fit neatly into this model. The resume is a document of some complexity which is used to make important decisions about people's livelihoods, and thus demands higher standards than the passed note, which is generally a simple document that doesn't matter at all. I think these two reasons show why social convention is not the arbitrary weirdness Hobbes makes it out to be.

For his next trick, Hobbes writes a little bit about the horrors of prescriptive grammar. While it's obviously true that there is no magical English gremlin in the sky who regulates the "proper" use of the language, it does not follow that standards have no place in language. Hobbes states that "If an editorial gets its idea across, it can be said to be composed of ‘good' English." I'd like to discuss this statement from a couple different angles. Firstly, a great way to help an editorial deliver its idea is to make it adhere to linguistic standards others will recognize. Honest. (On a much cruder level, this is probably why most editorials are submitted to RPGamer in English.) Secondly, this statement is fundamentally wrong. Proof by induction: fanart gets ideas across, right? So do fanfics, as well, perhaps, as symphonies and well-placed kitchen sinks. But these would all be longshots at the editorial section, because there's something else that defines an editorial in good English. That something else is the body of standards associated with the English language; after all, it's clear that airy statements about New Zealand do not a rebuttal make.

Before I go on, do make note of one of Hobbes's last sentences in this section: "to criticize a view on the basis that the person stating it spoke differently from the way one would expect is to commit a logical fallacy." Pay close attention, folks, because it is exactly this proscribed activity that Hobbes spends the last 20-30% of his editorial doing. Using his mighty linguistic maxims, he criticizes not the ideas of Mr. Maciel's piece, but the language he used. We and Hobbes know that Maciel's attribution of bad English to Mississippi hicks was not a crucial idea of his editorial, but rather a device he used to emphasize the importance of grammar et al., essentially a characteristic of his language. By the standards of his previous paragraph, Hobbes should not present this critique.

I also think the two maxims he employs are rather flimsy on examination, which begs the question of what they are teaching college students nowadays. Each student, Hobbes writes, "receives" these maxims, which suggests to me that they are presented with as little analytical evidence as Hobbes himself provided. Kind of scary if you think about it.

Here, then, is the first maxim: "One's views on the way another talks is a direct reflection of one's prejudices toward that person." In other words, we can't learn anything about someone by the way they talk; we'll only come up with baseless judgments we already held. I don't know about the rest of you, but this strikes me as ludicrous on face. You can learn all kinds of stuff from people's modes of communication. There are the basics (of course): where they're from, how they're educated, stuff like that. But there's also much more. Some may be aware of fairly recent trends in academia; things such as deconstructionism or post-modern literary criticism are basically concerned with unearthing basic assumptions, power relations, and deep-seated prejudices from the form of communication, previously seen as a transparent conduit for abstract "ideas."

The second maxim: "One can tell nothing about another's intelligence by the way the other person talks." Seems to me that, to the extent we can tell anything about anyone's intelligence at all, how a person speaks speak is a wonderful indicator. Are they articulate, creative? Or do they just grunt a lot? Can they adapt, learn, and master linguistic norms? Or is the concept of punctuation way over their heads? Sure, our estimation of such things will be effected by the subject's upbringing and culture, but to say intelligence plays no role is silly.

To wrap things up: linguistic norms and standards are pretty useful; that's what they're there for. We shouldn't reject grammar just because there is no official cosmic standard, since it has real utility for writers and readers. Readers' interest in language derives not only from "social convention" and nasty prejudice but from a well-founded need for standards and a realization that the way someone wields the language reflects meaningfully on him or her. Thank you.