The Spoken American Language

Almost no native of the United States seems to be able to speak more than a few sentences consecutively without committing a glaring error of vocabulary or grammar.  This is without respect to education level.

Some foreigners, and even some Americans, would gleefully attribute this to our "vulgarity", "stupidity" and so forth.

Here one should point out that a high proportion of the cleverest and most accomplished people in the world are actually American.  Our profound sense of practicality which, blended with a prodigious confidence and yes, intelligence, has resulted in many successful Americans becoming noteworthy well beyond our borders.  Other countries are lucky to have a bare handful of celebrities with international recognition.  We have hundreds, if not more, and their fame is wholly justified.

Whatever else we may be, we are not dull-witted. Yet when our countrymen are called upon to speak, whatever the occasion, the result is sometimes an appalling disaster. Americans seem consciously to avoid any vocabulary choice which might aid them in lending added force to their argument.  They are unable to conjugate verbs that are separated from their subjects by more than a few words.  They are drawn to wrong words or even malapropisms like a moth to candle flame.  Quite often they begin a sentence seemingly having no more idea about how it should end than you or I would.

I have been puzzled by this.  However, I now realize that it is owing to a peculiarity of our culture, and not to a fault in our national character.  Yes, public speaking is no longer taught in school.  But at bottom, I think we are afraid that if we were to speak with greater care, we would seem too arch.  An American can only be so dry before his thirst overwhelms him.  An American has a horror of appearing to be "inaccessible".  By rounding the angles of his speech until his meaning must be guessed; by insisting on being colloquial, however unsuitable the circumstances; by unconsciously insisting that his interlocutor is always his equal by choosing simple words that only approximate his intended meaning -- these are the almost intentional errors Americans feel compelled to use in their speech to mollify their listeners.

What an American almost never seems to want to do, however, is bend his audience with the power of rhetoric, supported by conviction.  We are uncomfortable with the arresting phrase, with the poetic juxtaposition of words.  We do not wish to stir, to artfully provoke, to paint a word-picture of demanding originality.

So while on the one hand it is considerate of us, I suppose, never to challenge one another with speech possessing unanswerable logic and poetic forcefulness, we are also being cowardly for avoiding the slight mental discipline it would take to speak, at the least, correctly.  Once we regained some comfort with the correct spoken language (we would have to lose the fear of seeming snobbish), we could move to improve our public discourse. Our politicians could give speeches that, on occasion, ennoble (we currently lack so much as one first-rate speaker in our political class, including our president*).  We could inject much-needed refinement into our private discourse.  In developing the art of conversation we could actually exalt ourselves.

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We are inundated with language.  But it is of mediocre quality.  Just as perniciously, we are no longer encouraged to treat certain texts with reverence.  For example, the King James Bible is a very important artifact, but it is no longer sacred both as a literary text and as a religious authority. The authority of language, as language, has all but disappeared.

In school, this abdication of authority regarding language takes different forms: grammar has ceased to be taught as a discrete subject; in written exercises, expression and form are accorded equal weight; reading assignments must, seemingly, never be in a language that might be unfamiliar to students.

One can decry this as one wishes.  But the insidious effects of no longer having any supreme guides for how we speak and write are much more widespread than just our school curricula.  Our culture practically forces us to speak to one another in a language but also in a tone that is familiar. While this may be relaxing to some, it is impoverishing and in the end, exhausting and dispiriting if one happens to pay any attention to how words are used.  There could be no harm in once again recognizing that we all occupy a discrete personal sphere which, if properly respected (as circumstances will permit), could result in our daily interactions being a great deal more fruitful, to say nothing of more enjoyable.  Moreover, if we were only slightly more correct in our bearing and speech, we would actually raise ourselves in the estimation of others- that is, if being raised in another's estimation is seen as an important value.  The pitfall to avoid, of course, is appearing stiff, which will never happen if one just uses some common sense.

I would never advise anyone to be more conscious of his speech if I hadn't seen countless encounters needlessly spoiled by a lack of regard on the part of the person initiating the conversation for the condition of the person being addressed.  This is the American vice.  I am convinced that it is our poverty in oral language, every bit as much as it is our famous "rudeness", that makes conversational exchanges frequently so excruciating in this country.

*The famous phrases of our president, at least some of which seem to have been concocted by speech writers, seem to me to be on the level of greeting-card mottoes.

A Loss

The pluperfect subjunctive has effectively disappeared from spoken English, and is all but gone from the written language as well.  I have taken on the task of convincing you that this is a loss worth noting.

"If I had known, I would never have come" has steadily been replaced by "If I would have known, I wouldn't have come," even among the well educated.

I will not decry this from the point of view of a grammarian, however much one might be tempted.  Instead, mourn with me a loss to the English-speaking mind and spirit.

Though the subjunctive is often not noticeable as a distinct verb tense, as it is in many other languages, it has always been very much present in the spirit of English - until relatively recently. 

The past subjunctive, if you don't know, often expresses a non-existent condition in the dependent clause ("If I had...), followed by the impact of this condition on the speaker's action, were it to come to pass, in the independent clause ("...then I would...").  In my opinion, it is one of the most elegant constructions in any of the many languages in which it is used, for it shows the speaker's possession of absolute clear-sightedness in the moment of speaking, contrasting poetically with his or her lack of it at some point in the all-too-recent past.

The contemporary bowdlerization of the pluperfect subjunctive removes the speaker from the exposed midpoint of the action; indeed, the declaration is no longer even the subjunctive.  His chronological placement in the events referred to, both theoretical and real, has been hopelessly muddled; his degree of responsibility is no longer clear.  The power of speech is now the lesser for it.

Changing a Nation

It is not possible for a person to question completely the foundation upon which rests his sense of self.  No matter how wrong-headed, for for that matter cruel and pointless one's way of being, one must justify to oneself why one has the character one has.

In many cases, people will resist attempting even slight alterations in their own attitudes and comportment. They are in the main satisfied with, or at least reconciled to who they are and how they got that way; they can revisit the fundamental parts of their character, but success is never assured.

There are some truths about oneself that one can never fully face, and in this way nations are like people.  If we bear this in mind it might be easier to understand why a country as great as the United States does not have the proportionate ability to change itself.

All countries, like all people, are limited in their capacity for self-reflection.  They are as proud as any person; they always see themselves as virtuous.

The United States has been favored by fortune, but also by talent and yes, virtue - even now.  We have justly enjoyed the fruits of our disciplined labor.  We have created a haven and the conditions for the majority of us to enjoy it.  We demand a lot of others and use more than our share of resources, but to ask us to be less demanding and more mindful of what we use would be to punish us for our success as a national enterprise.

We do not have the culture of our southern neighbor or the kindliness of our northern one, but we have always tried to do so much more than they; our ambitions have been heroic.  So, for us to act as if we were an ordinary country is psychically absurd.  No one, not even ourselves, has the right to demand from us a fundamental change.  Indeed, we have only changed when circumstances have forced change upon us.

Inconveniently, however, other great countries have transformed themselves, often with our help.  They have become almost the opposite of what they were, and the world has then been able to enjoy peace.  We must become the opposite of what we are for the world to survive, while preserving that which is great about us. This is the challenge of a great nation.