Tuesday, February 25, 2020



SO

Jerry Harkins


The longest entry in the Second Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary [1] is the 161 pages devoted to the word set which has 430 meanings in print (with another two hundred and some waiting for the Third Edition).  Run is second with 396 meanings.  Sadly, both words are quite pedestrian and their treatment in the OED is not light reading.  Happily, though, there are enough interesting words in English to make reading it addictive.  Consider, for example, what may be the most interesting word in English:  so.  The OED covers it in only a little more than five pages, attributing to it some 40 meanings. [2] I would argue that such (relatively) parsimonious attention is insufficiently respectful.

My favorite dictionary for everyday use [3] invests only 631 words in so, 261 of them devoted to a mere sixteen definitions which barely scratch the surface of its usage.  Eight of these are adverbs, two are  adjectives, two conjunctions, two idioms and one each pronoun and interjection  The majority of the entry is given over to usage notes which, like the entire entry, are somewhat pedantic.  It, too, misses the richness, the mystery and the romance of the word, all of which are hinted at in the OED entry (as long as you are willing to spend a few days looking for the needles in a verbal haystack).

The etymology of so is simple even if nothing else about it is.  It derives from Old English, a blend of the languages spoken by the Angles, Saxons and Jutes who settled in Britannia after the Roman legions left in 410 CE. [4] These Germanic people displaced the native Britons who spoke Latin and Brittonic, a Celtic language.  As time went on, swa which was the Old English word for so became swo and eventually swo became so.  As this evolution was occurring, its meaning was coalescing around a group of words signifying causation.  “It was raining so I took an umbrella.”  Thus. Therefore.  But so is not quite as resolute.  Therefore is definite.  B happened because and only because A had happened previously.  So leaves room for other factors.  It says A influenced B in this case, but B could be caused by contributing factors or even by factors in the absence of A.  The usual Latin word would be sic as in “Sic transit gloria mundi,” thus passes the glory of the world.  This is spoken during a papal coronation when flax is burned referring metaphorically to the ephemeral nature of worldly things.  If the smoke really caused the ephemerality, therefore (ergo) would have been used.

Many uses of so are similarly slightly vague or totally opaque.  Among the latter is the idiom So long which is a phrase meaning farewell with a hint of “I’ll see you soon.”  There is no shortage of theories for this you can find on the web but neither word signifies anything relevant.   Of course, goodbye is only slightly more meaningful.  Its supposed origin as a contraction of the phrase God be with ye seems like an academic conceit even though modern entomologists insist that good and god are unrelated.

Almost as devoid of meaning is so used, like ah or uh, as a kind of verbal tic or punctuation, a sound that can serve to introduce a new idea, direct attention to what follows or merely provide a brief pause for the speaker and listener to prepare for what follows.  It acts as a gateway and is often used when responding to a question.  A politician will answer a question by “So” followed by a full stop or pause and then an answer or, more likely, an evasion.  A transcript should indicate this with a period.  Closely related is a use which makes it less of a request and more of  a command or directive similar to the military injunction, “Now hear this.”  The more forceful the directive is, the more likely it should be followed by an exclamation point in a text or a rising inflection in the spoken word. 

The next gradation of so marks what follows as a matter of some wonder.  It is used like lobehold or the repetitious phrase lo and behold.  Lo is a Middle English word for look and is used synonymously with behold.  [5]. A parent happens in on a teenage scene of which he or she does not approve and says “So!”  The degree of disapproval (or, occasionally, approval) depends entirely on the inflection.  However, the meaning of the inflection is never in doubt.

Doubt creeps in when we have lost the colloquial senses in which expressions were used.  The word cool, for example, has several contemporary connotations that have nothing to do with the temperature.  Among other things, it can mean laid back, popular, awesome, slow down or okay.  A future translator who knew these variations would have to choose one from the context while another who knew only the formal meaning would be puzzled by the idea of a cool cat.  We can turn to Seamus Heaney for a more literary example. [6]  The first line of Beowulf in Old English is:

Hwæt wê Gâr-Dena in gear-dagum

Given that we don’t have access to colloquial or idiomatic Old English, this means, "What we Spear-Danes, in [the] old days."   We are left to treat Hwæt as an adjective meaning what which makes no sense in context.  Clearly the Anglo-Saxons used it in a sense or senses that have been lost, leaving modern translators to imagine what what might also mean or imply.  Heaney renders it So followed by a period.  He gives the first and second lines as:

So.  The Spear-Danes in days gone by
and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s prose translation of the same lines [7] gives Hwæt as "Lo!":

Lo! the glory of the kings of the people of the Spear Danes in days of old we have heard tell, how those princes did deeds of valour. 

This would read better had Tolkien put a period after old and begun a new sentence with We.  But, like James Joyce, his usage is often eccentric so, as it is, the passage reads more like Tolkien than like the author of Beowulf.

Other translators have used "Listen" for Hwæt.  "Lo" is similar and perhaps more poetic.  It means something close to "behold" as in the gospel account of the first Christmas ("And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them…" Luke 2:9 from the Latin Et ecce).  I can't think of any justification for Heaney’s so.  I can imagine a bard saying "So" in the sense of "So let's begin the story by saying…"  But if he had and if he was writing in Old English he probably would have used Swa. In fact, swa appears often in the standard text and is translated as so by Heaney and others.

In the foreword to his translation, Heaney says, “But in Hiberno-English Scullion-speak, the particle ‘so’ came naturally to the rescue, because in that idiom ‘so’ operates as an expression that obliterates all previous discourse and narrative, and at the same time functions as an exclamation calling for immediate attention.”  The same can be said of Tolkien's Lo.  But it still leaves the question of what the original may have been implying by Hwæt.  Perhaps the author was a Christian monk working in the Sixth Century and maybe the word Hwæt was taken from the first line of a local prayer beginning “What God has wrought.”  Might Hwæt then have evolved to become a poet’s shorthand invocation of Bragi, the Norse God of Poetry, for help in telling his story?  It seems far-fetched but remember that all three of the great classical epics – The Iliad, The Odyssey and The Aeneid –  begin with a prayer of invocation to Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry. [8] 

None of this is to dispute any of the decisions made by any of the translators whose work I have cited.  I can have my preferences but I cannot dispute Heaney's preference for So.  I can certainly appreciate the difficulties he faced and I have a strong impression that So is part of what gives his translation the feel of Old English in spite of its purported contemporary origin in "Hiberno-English Scullion-speak" which seems to refer to what my Irish grandparents would call "kitchen talk" implying the gossip of kitchen workers behind closed doors.  It sounds right to me even if Beowulf is hardly the kind of rhetoric one would expect of a medieval scullion. 

Another of the most common uses of so is thus as in the expression “So be it” which derives from and is the meaning of the word amen in Hebrew.  The OED says that in this usage, so is a “predicate” which is probably not precisely correct.  Be that as it may, the sentence usually expresses the hope that what preceded it (usually a prayer in the case of amen) will come to pass.  On the other hand, the same phrase can indicate resignation to something unhappy.  Change the sentence just a bit and it becomes, “Is that so?”  Then there is the traditional assertion of integrity, “I do so declare,” which is written and signed at the end of a test.  It is not a hope but almost an oath that the writer has not cheated.  The so is the object of the predicate do declare and refers to a set of community rules well known to all members.

So what?  How much is so much?  How little is not so much?  How poor is so-so?  How bad is a so-and-so?  How so is quite so?  We have come full circle.  Each of these sos means nothing or almost nothing aside from the speaker's inflection, how it is said.  The answer to all these questions is to some unspecified degree greater than zero and less than infinity.  So we reach the point of this essay:  virtually all words in all languages have multiple meanings which range from strictly logical to incomprehensible.  Words stray far and fast from their root meanings, leaving a crazy quilt matrix of their journey.  An attentive reader can see what in Hwæt but only a poet can see the so.

Notes

1.  Oxford English Dictionary, Second Edition, 20 volumes, Clarendon Press, 1989.

2.  ibid. Volume XV, pp. 886-892.

3.  The American Heritage Dictionary, Fourth Edition, Houghton Mifflin Co., 2006, p. 1648.

4.  These and several other small Germanic tribes originally spoke different dialects of Frisian which linguists tell us were mutually unintelligible.  But in Brittan, they lived in close contact and had to communicate.

5.  The equivalent word in Latin is ecce as in Isaiah 7:14.   The Latin Vulgate says, “…ecce virgo concipiet et pariet filium et vocabitis nomen eius Emmanuhel.”  The ecce is almost always translated as behold.  Thus the famous line from Isaiah, “…behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son and shall call his name Emanuel.”  Or that from Lamentations, “Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow.”  Again, we are confronted not with reality but with metaphor.  You cannot actually look at the virgin who will be conceiving or the sorrows of Jerusalem.

6.  Seamus Heaney, Beowulf:  A New Verse Translation, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2000.  Heaney gives us the poem in the Anglo-Saxon with his translation on the facing page.  In an earlier essay on the art of translation, I have expressed the opinion that Heaney was the greatest contemporary translator of classical poetry.  Part of this discussion of the first line of Beowulf is taken from that essay.

7  J.R.R. Tolkien, Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, Christopher Tolkien, editor, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2014.

8.  Some have argued that these invocations were directed not to Calliope but to her mother Mnemosyne, the Titan of memory, for assistance in recalling the events of the poem.  But the Titans were relatively less contemporary and therefore less important to the Greeks than the Muses.  Homer is explicitly addressing a Muse.  If not Calliope, a case could be made for Clio, another of Mnemosyne's daughters and the Muse of history.



Thursday, February 13, 2020


THE KINGDOM, THE POWER AND THE GLORY OF DONALD TRUMP

Jerry Harkins


I’m automatically attracted to beautiful women — I just start kissing them,
it’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they
                     let you do it. You can do anything.  Grab 'em by the pussy."
––Donald J. Trump
    2016

I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody
                              and I wouldn’t lose any voters, okay?
                                                                                    ––Donald J, Trump
                                                                                        January 16, 2019

Article II allows me to do whatever I want.
––Donald J. Trump
    June 16, 2019


Whether you love Donald Trump or hate him, you can’t argue about certain aspects of his personality. First, he spends a lot more time and money on his hair than you do.  His “do” disproves Lady Clairol’s claim that only her hairdresser knows for sure.  In his case, everybody knows he is the world’s only 73-year old bottle blond (okay, bottle orange) of the male persuasion.  Second, he is not a paragon of truthfulness.  In his first three years as President, he has told more than 16,000 lies according to The Washington Post.  Third, he has a high opinion of himself.  He is not shy about his belief that he is a very stable genius and the greatest President we have ever had with the possible exception of George Washington.  (Washington, of course, never mastered the art of the big lie.)  Fourth, he wears his ties crotch-length, whether for protection or promotion.  Fifth, he displays a truly remarkable range of unflattering facial expressions.  He often puckers his lips so his face looks like that of a very angry pig.  Sixth, his next self-help book could be titled The Art of the Insult.  His memoirs might be called Revenge Is Mine Saith the Lord.  He is a master of hyperbole.  Everything he does is the greatest that has ever been done in the history of the world.  His enemies are invariably doing the work of the devil.  Seventh, he is attracted to autocrats, evangelical preachers and statuesque women.  He surrounds himself with toadies and incompetents and fires anyone with knowledge or talent.  Eighth, he doesn’t smoke or drink.  He does curse and swear a lot but he’s not really good at it.  His repertoire is pedestrian, limited to dirty words he learned in ninth grade.  Ninth, his alleged wealth derives primarily from a worshipful father, his mastery of the bankruptcy laws and his extensive experience as a deadbeat debtor.

With that sort of resume, you might think Trump would have trouble landing a job flipping burgers but you’d be wrong.  He shocked the world by losing the 2016 presidential election by only a little more than three million votes.  Even more shocking was the fact that he actually won in the electoral college by 77 votes, the undemocratic result of one of several undemocratic compromises made in1789 without which the Constitution would not have been adopted.  This same trade-off resulted in Al Gore’s defeat in 2000 and Hillary Clinton’s in 2016.  It also defeated three other Democrats  –– Andrew Jackson, Samuel Tilden and Grover Cleveland ––in 1824, 1876 and 1888 respectively.

For better or for worse, Donald Trump is not your normal politician or your normal business executive or your normal Christian.  In every respect, he is abnormal.  If your Uncle Joe acted the way he does, you would have serious reservations about his mental health and you would keep him away from BB guns never mind the nuclear football Presidents have always at hand.  If you had taken Psych 1 in college, you might readily conclude Uncle Don was a megalomaniac.

Actually, mental health professionals no longer use the term megalomania.  However, it still appears in the literature defined as “a highly inflated conception of one’s importance, power, or capabilities, as can be observed in many individuals with mania and paranoid schizophrenia. In the latter, megalomania is often accompanied or preceded by delusions of persecution.” [1]  Sound familiar?  Is this the root of all the Fake News and Deep State conspiracy theories?

In fairness, it should be noted that history is replete with leaders who might be described as having a highly inflated conception of their importance, power, or capabilities.  Some were decent people and/or brilliant leaders, others not. You can make your own list of which were which.  Here are a few to get you started:  Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Atilla the Hun, Charlemagne, Genghis Khan, Joan of Arc, Vlad the Impaler, Henry VIII, Suleiman the Magnificent, Elizabeth I, Louis XIV, Napoleon Bonaparte, Adolph Hitler, Charles de Gaulle, Idi Amin.  Go ahead, try it.  Make a chart and for each name and list why they might be considered good leaders and why not and the symptoms of any craziness they displayed.

Poor Trump!  Maybe his greatest fear is waking up to the fact that he’s a phony, a failure, a laughingstock.  He wants to believe he’s a god, just as his parents told him he was but he lives in terror that he will be outed as just another dummkopf.   If that’s the case, he’s in good company.  A lot of very talented people have felt the same way.  Others, however, know a terrible truth:  I really am a putz. They can’t escape the fact that their best friends snicker behind their backs.  Even the mirror on the wall laughs out loud now when they ask, “Who’s the greatest genius of all time?”  In most cases, such feelings are not terribly harmful except maybe to those close to the sufferer but in extreme cases they can be devastating.  Unlike other psychological disturbances, patients present a wide range of manic behaviors only some of which are truly symptomatic and therefore useful in differential diagnosis.  It is worth quoting a standard psychiatric source at length in this regard:

Although psychotic features in patients with schizophrenia are typically bizarre and idiosyncratic, patients who are manic are much more likely to present with grandiose delusions that typically impair judgment and self-esteem. These patients may be difficult to manage because of their boundless energy and their grandiose misinterpretation of their situation. Staff may at first mistake mania for unusually high energy, talkativeness, and positive self-esteem; eventually they turn to the psychiatric consultant when the patient refuses to stop pacing or to stop talking to other patients late at night, or when he or she is belligerent or insists that he or she is free of any medical problems. Patients with irritable or dysphoric mania may present with persecutory delusions and can be superficially indistinguishable from a patient with paranoid schizophrenia. [2]

Again, sound familiar?  Bear in mind, this is not a diagnosis of Donald Trump’s mental health.  His doctors have assured us he is in full possession of his wits.  As you know, the Goldwater Rule says it is unethical for psychiatrists to offer a diagnosis about a patient they have not actually seen and this is excellent advice for writers who are untrained in mental health.  I don’t know whether or not Mr. Trump is a narcissist, a sociopath, a schizophrenic or a dysphoric maniac.  All I’m saying is it would be nice to know given that he has the power to destroy the world in his little finger. Then again, if it turned out he is crazy as a bedbug, it would be up to the Republicans to do something about it.  Which would mean they would have to abandon their distaste for evidence and their disregard for the judgement of history.  On December 1, 1862, Abraham Lincoln sent Congress a message which included what became a famous admonition:

Fellow-citizens, we cannot escape history. We of this Congress
 and this administration, will be remembered in spite of ourselves. 
No personal significance, or insignificance, can spare one or an-
other of us. The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down, 
in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation. We say we are for the 
Union. The world will not forget that we say this. We know how to 
save the Union. The world knows we do know how to save it. We ––
 even we here –– hold the power, and bear the responsibility. 

For the third time, sound familiar?  Persons of prominence should always worry about the first paragraph of their obituaries which will define for all time how they will be remembered.  No amount of academic revisionism will ever erase the memory of Cate O’Leary and her cow [3] or Lizzie Borden and her ax [4].  By all accounts, Roger B. Taney was a distinguished jurist and Chief Justice of the United States with the single exception of his abominable decision in the Dred Scott case which stained his obituary in 1864 and which forced both the state of Maryland and the city of Baltimore to remove statues of him in 2017.

We live in perilous times.  Extremism is in the air all over the globe:  nationalism, xenophobia, terrorism, racism, sexism, human trafficking, civil war, religious wars, cyber wars, drug wars.  Truly, as William Butler Yeats told us, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; /  Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.” [5]  Of course, he was writing in the aftermath of the horror of World War I which should remind us that we have experienced horror before and have managed to survive.  Yeats foresaw the turn of history away from the Renaissance ideals of humanism, science, democracy and diversity.  But he could not have imagined the ability of social media and nuclear weapons to amplify the horror and the tragedy.  Like many intellectuals of his era, he looked to mysticism for hope.  There is evidence in his letters that he thought of hope as a strong force in human affairs and it may have been so in the distant past.  We, however, know it as a weak reed.  It may be that, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to the mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move;  and nothing will be impossible to you.”  But we have lost faith in such nostrums.

If we desire change, then we –– we the people –– must insist upon it.  We cannot afford to indulge our discontents however justified they may be, to exploit our petty differences, to invest our energy in peripheral disputes.  Thomas Paine wrote, “These are the times that try men’s souls.” [6] Americans need first to reverse the error of 2016 and, second, to agree that the reversal is only the first and perhaps easiest step toward renewal of the American Dream.  We cannot afford to be summer soldiers and sunshine patriots in the more important struggles ahead.

Notes

1.  Gary R. VandenBos, Ph.D. (Editor), APA Dictionary of Psychology, Second Edition, American Psychological Association, Washington, D.C.,  2015.

2.  Oliver Freudenreich M.D., Donald C. Goff M.D., et al, Massachusetts General Hospital Handbook of General Hospital Psychiatry,  Sixth Edition, Elsevier, 2010.

3.  This is the cow, at the Leary back gate, / Where she stood on the night of October the eight, / With her old crumpled horn and belligerent hoof, / Warning all "neighbor women" to keep well aloof. / Ah! this is the cow with the crumpled horn / That kicked over the lamp that set fire to the barn / That caused the Great Fire in Chicago! 

4.  Lizzie Borden took an axe / And gave her mother forty whacks / When she saw what she had done / She gave her father forty-one.

5.  “The Second Coming,” first published in The Dial, New York, November, 1920.

6.  “The Crisis,” December 23, 1776.