Monday, Oct. 25, 1954
How to Gowerize
In spite of the fame of Henry W. Fowler's Modern English Usage, Britons never coined the verb "to fowlerize." But in official circles, at least, they are beginning to use "to gowerize." Its source is leathery Sir Ernest Cowers, 74, a retired civil servant who has been waging a relentless war against the turgid prose called officialese. Last week, from Sir Ernest's new book, The Complete Plain Words (Her Majesty's Stationery Office), thousands of readers both in and out of the service were learning what gowerizing is all about--"to say what you mean in simple words instead of words that mean nothing."
The modern official, says Sir Ernest, has built up a weird way of writing. At his worst, he is downright incomprehensible ("Prices are basis prices per ton for the representative-basis-pricing specification and size and quantity"). But even at his best, he is often fuzzy. There is, says Sir Ernest, "an unwillingness to venture outside a small vocabulary of shapeless bundles of uncertain content--words like position, arise, involve, in connection with, issue, consideration, and factor--a disposition, for instance, to 'admit with regret the position which has arisen in connection with,' rather than to make the effort to tell the reader specifically what is admitted with regret." An official would far sooner say, "With reference to your claim, I have to advise you that before same is dealt with . . ." than "Before I can deal with your claim. " He says predecease for die before, it is apprehended that for 7 suppose, and it will be observed from a perusal of for you will see by reading.
He also likes to manufacture verbs (e.g., to casualize--to employ casual labor), make up opposites (diseconomy, derestrict), and use unnecessary nouns as escapee ("We already have escaper"). He indulges recklessly in the not un-habit (not unjustifiably, not unduly unreasonable), shilly-shallies hopelessly in the apparent belief that "mistiness is the mother of safety." Thus, he will write, "In transmitting this matter to the Council the Minister feels that it may be of assistance to them to learn that, as at present advised, he is inclined to the view that, in existing circumstances, there is, prima facie, a case for . . .", which is tantamount to saying, "This is what the Minister thinks in the present state of his mind, but, as he is human, the state of his mind may change." Other sins of officialese:
P: The Unnecessary Adjective: "If we make a habit of saying 'the true facts are these,' we shall come under suspicion when we profess to tell merely 'the facts.' If a crisis is always acute and an emergency always grave, what is left for those words to do by themselves?" P: The Superfluous Adverb: e.g., definitely harmful, irresistibly reminded, or literally (as in the news report that Mr. Gladstone "sat literally glued to the Treasury Bench," to which Punch once added: " 'That's torn it,' said the Grand Old Man, as he literally wrenched himself away to dinner"). P: Verbosity in Verbs: e.g., is not prepared to, is not in a position to, does not see his way to. Warns Sir Ernest: "To be told that the Minister is 'not in a position to approve' may excite a desire to retort that he might try putting his feet on the mantelpiece and see if that does any good." P: The Overuse of Abstract Words: e.g., position, situation. "Sir Winston Churchill did not begin his broadcast on the 17th of June, 1940: 'The position in regard to France is extremely serious.' He began: 'The news from France is very bad.' He did not end it: 'We have absolute confidence that eventually the situation will be restored.' He ended: 'We are sure that in the end all will come right.' "
All in all, says Sir Ernest, the modern official might well take his cue from his counterparts of centuries ago, when a Minister of Finance could write a senior civil servant:
"Apollonius to Zeno, greeting. You did right to send the chickpeas to Memphis. Farewell."
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