政治與英語

奧威爾基金會

“我最想做的事……就是把政治寫作變成一門藝術”

 

 

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政治與英語

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大多數關心這個問題的人都會承認英語確實很糟糕，但人們普遍認為我們無法透過有意識的行動來改變它。有人認為，我們的文明正在衰落，而我們的語言也必然會陷入普遍的崩潰。因此，任何反對語言濫用的鬥爭都是一種感傷的古語，就像人們喜歡蠟燭勝過電燈，喜歡雙輪馬車勝過飛機一樣。在這背後隱藏著一種半意識的信念：語言是一種自然發展的過程，而不是我們為自己的目的而塑造的工具。

現在，很明顯，一種語言的衰落最終必定有政治和經濟原因：它不僅僅是由於這個或那個個別作家的不良影響。但結果可以成為原因，強化原始原因，並以強化形式產生相同的結果，依此類推，無限循環。一個人可能因為覺得自己失敗而開始喝酒，然後又因為喝酒而變得更徹底失敗。這與英語中正在發生的情況大致相同。因為我們的想法愚蠢，所以它變得醜陋和不準確，但是我們語言的草率使我們更容易產生愚蠢的想法。重點是這個過程是可逆的。現代英語，特別是書面英語，充滿了透過模仿而傳播的壞習慣，如果人們願意付出必要的努力，就可以避免這些壞習慣。如果一個人擺脫了這些習慣，他就能思考得更清晰，而清晰的思考是政治復興的必要的第一步：這樣，與糟糕的英語作鬥爭就不再是無意義的，也不再只是專業作家關心的事情。我馬上就會回到這個問題上，我希望到那時我在這裡所說的話的含義會變得更加清晰。同時，這裡有五種現在習慣使用的英語書寫形式。

我挑選出這五段文字並不是因為它們特別糟糕——如果我選擇的話，我本可以引用更糟糕的內容——而是因為它們說明了我們現在所遭受的各種精神弊病。它們略低於平均水平，但卻是相當有代表性的例子。我給它們編號，以便在必要時可以參考：

1. 我確實不能確定這樣的說法是否正確：彌爾頓曾經看起來與十七世紀的雪萊並無二致，但是，由於經歷一年比一年痛苦，他對這位耶穌會創始人來說變得更加格格不入，沒有什麼能夠讓他容忍這種事情。

哈羅德‧拉斯基教授（《言論自由論文》）。

2. 最重要的是，我們不能用一套本土習語來玩弄技巧，這些習語規定了詞彙的過分搭配，例如用 put up with代替lerance，或用 put at a lose代替bewilder。

霍格本 (Lancelot Hogben) 教授（Interglossia）。

3. 一方面，我們有自由人格：根據定義，它不是神經質的，因為它既沒有衝突也沒有夢想。它的慾望是顯而易見的，因為它們正是製度認可所保持的意識前沿的東西；另一種制度模式會改變其數量和強度；它們之中幾乎沒有什麼自然的、不可減少的或文化上危險的東西。但另一方面，社會連結本身也不過是這些自我安全完整性的相互反映。回想一下愛的定義。這不正是小學者的寫照嗎？在這鏡廳裡，哪裡還有個性或博愛的容身之處？

政治心理學論文（紐約）。

4. 所有來自紳士俱樂部的「精英」和所有瘋狂的法西斯頭目，對社會主義懷有共同的仇恨，對日益高漲的群眾革命運動感到極其恐懼，他們採取了挑釁行為，進行了卑鄙的縱火，編造了中世紀的毒井傳說，使他們自己對無產階級組織的破壞合法化，並煽動激動的小資產階級反對沙文主義革命，以反對沙文主義革命。

共產主義小冊子。

5. 如果要給這個古老的國家注入新的精神，就必須解決一項棘手且有爭議的改革，那就是BBC的人性化和激勵化。這裡的膽怯將預示著靈魂的腐爛和萎縮。例如，英國的心臟或許是健全的、跳動強勁的，但此刻英國獅子的吼叫卻如同莎士比亞《仲夏夜之夢》中波頓的吼叫一樣——如同任何一隻吮吸乳汁的鴿子一樣溫柔。一個充滿活力的新英國不能繼續無限期地被朗豪坊那些軟弱無力、厚顏無恥地偽裝成「標準英語」的人們在世人眼中或耳中誹謗。當九點鐘聽到英國之聲時，聽到真誠的嘶叫聲遠比聽到現在那些無可指責、害羞的喵喵叫少女的一本正經、浮誇、壓抑、女學生般的拱形嘶叫聲要好得多，也少得多可笑！

論壇報上的來信。

這些段落都有其自身的缺點，但是，除了可以避免的醜陋之外，它們都有兩個共同的特徵。一是形象陳舊；二是缺乏精準性。作者要麼有意而為之，但無法表達出來，要麼無意中說出了別的話，要麼幾乎不在乎他的話是否有意義。這種模糊性和純粹無能的混合是現代英語散文，尤其是任何類型的政治寫作最顯著的特徵。一旦提出某些話題，具體的東西就融入了抽象，似乎沒有人能夠想出不陳腐的表達方式：散文中越來越少地包含為了表達含義而選擇的詞語，而越來越多的短語則像預製雞舍的各個部分一樣拼湊在一起。以下我列出了在散文創作過程中經常使用的各種技巧，​​並附上了註釋和例子。

消亡的隱喻。新發明的隱喻透過喚起視覺形象來幫助思考，而另一方面，技術上已經「死亡」的隱喻（例如鋼鐵般的決心）實際上已經恢復為普通詞語，並且通常可以使用而不會失去生動性。但在這兩類之間，存在著大量過時的隱喻，它們已經失去了所有的喚起力量，人們使用它們只是因為它們可以省去人們自己發明短語的麻煩。例如：響起變革之聲、為……奮起反抗、循規蹈矩、橫行霸道、與……並肩作戰、中了……的圈套、不圖私利、圖利於…… 、渾水摸魚、按計劃行事、阿喀琉斯之踵、絕唱、溫床。許多這樣的詞語都是在人們不了解其含義的情況下使用的（例如，「裂痕」是什麼？），並且經常混合使用不相容的隱喻，這肯定表明作者對他所說的內容不感興趣。現在流行的一些隱喻已經被扭曲了原意，而使用這些隱喻的人甚至沒有意識到這一點。例如，toe the line有時寫作tow the line。另一個例子是錘子和鐵砧，現在總是用來暗示鐵砧受到最糟糕的影響。在現實生活中，總是鐵砧壓碎錘子，而不是相反：一個停下來思考自己所說的話的作家就不會曲解原來的措辭。

操作員，或口語義肢。這樣就省去了挑選合適的動詞和名詞的麻煩，同時為每個句子填充了額外的音節，使其看起來對稱。典型片語有：render inoperative、militate against、proof unacceptable、make contact with、be subject to、give rise to、give grounds for、have the effect of、play a leading part ( role ) in eff ake the effect to sake、vole ）serve the purpose of等。基調是消除簡單動詞。動詞不再是單獨的詞，如break、stop、soil、mend、kill ，而是變成了一個短語，由名詞或形容詞加上一些通用動詞組成，如prove、serve、form、play、render。此外，盡可能優先使用被動語態而非主動語態，並使用名詞結構代替動名詞（例如，使用 by examining而不是by examining）。動詞的範圍透過-ize和de-變形進一步縮小，而平庸的語句透過not un-變形而顯得深刻。簡單的連詞和介詞被諸如關於、考慮到、事實、由於、鑑於、為了、基於假設等短語所取代；句子的結尾通過一些響亮的陳詞濫調來避免虎頭蛇尾，例如非常值得期待、不能被忽視、在不久的將來有望取得進展、值得認真考慮、得出令人滿意的結論等等。

矯揉造作的言辭。現象、元素、個體（作為名詞）、客觀、絕對、有效、虛擬、基本、主要、促進、構成、展覽、利用、利用、消除、清算等詞語用於修飾簡單的陳述，並為有偏見的判斷賦予科學公正的氣息。諸如劃時代的、史詩般的、歷史性的、令人難忘的、勝利的、古老的、不可避免的、無情的、真實的等形容詞被用來美化國際政治的骯髒進程，而旨在美化戰爭的文字通常帶有古老的色彩，其特徵詞是：王國、王座、戰車、鐵拳、三叉戟、寶劍、長、小圓盾、盾牌長、鐵拳、小圓號、寶劍、長、小圓盾、盾牌長、鐵拳、小圓號、寶劍、長、小圓盾、旗幟。諸如“cul de sac”、“ancien régime”、“deus ex machina”、“mutatis mutandis”、“status quo”、“Gleichschaltung”、“Weltanschauung”等外來詞和表達方式被用來營造一種文化和優雅的氛圍。除了有用的縮寫ie .、eg和etc.之外，英語中現有的數百個外來短語實際上都沒有必要。糟糕的作家，尤其是科學、政治和社會學作家，幾乎總是被這樣的觀念所困擾：拉丁語或希臘語詞彙比撒克遜語詞彙更宏大，而諸如expedite、ameliorate、predict、extraneous、deracinated、clandestine 、 sub-aqueous 、extraneous 、 deracinated 、clandestine 、sub-aqueous 以及其他盎格魯的詞彙上所佔據數百個詞[1]。馬克思主義寫作中特有的術語（鬣狗、劊子手、食人族、小資產階級、這些紳士、走狗、奴才、瘋狗、白衛軍等）大部分是由俄語、德語或法語翻譯過來的單字；但創造新詞的正常方式是使用拉丁語或希臘語詞根加上適當的詞綴，並在必要時使用-ize結構。編造這類字詞（deregionalize、impermissible、extramarital、non-fragmentatory等等）往往比想出能表達自己意思的英文單字更容易。整體而言，結果是，邋遢和含糊不清的情況越來越多。

毫無意義的話。在某些類型的寫作中，尤其是在藝術批評和文學批評中，遇到長篇大論而幾乎完全缺乏意義的段落是很正常的[2]。藝術批評中使用的諸如浪漫、塑料、價值觀、人類、死亡、感傷、自然、活力等詞語完全是沒有意義的，因為它們不僅沒有指向任何可發現的對象，而且讀者幾乎也不指望它們能指向任何可發現的對象。當一位評論家寫道“X 先生作品的突出特點是其鮮活的品質”，而另一位評論家寫道“X 先生作品最引人注目的地方是其獨特的死寂感”時，讀者會認為這只是意見上的分歧。如果涉及的是黑與白這樣的詞，而不是行話「死與活」，他就會立刻發現語言的使用方式不當。許多政治言論同樣被濫用。如今， 「法西斯主義」一詞已沒有任何意義，除非它表示「不受歡迎的東西」。民主、社會主義、自由、愛國、現實、正義這些字詞，每個字詞都有幾種不同的意義，彼此之間無法調和。對於「民主」這樣的詞語，不僅沒有公認的定義，而且試圖給出定義也遭到了各方面的抵制。幾乎所有人都認為，當我們稱一個國家為民主國家時，我們就是在讚揚它：因此，每一種政體的捍衛者都聲稱它是一個民主國家，並且擔心如果這個詞被束縛在任何一種意義上，他們可能不得不停止使用這個詞。此類言語常常被故意以不誠實的方式使用。也就是說，使用它們的人有他自己的私人定義，但卻讓聽眾認為他的意思完全不同。諸如「貝當元帥是真正的愛國者」、「蘇聯新聞界是世界上最自由的」、「天主教會反對迫害」之類的言論幾乎總是帶有欺騙的意圖。其他意義各異、在大多數情況下或多或少帶有不誠實色彩的字詞有：階級、極權主義、科學、進步、反動、資產階級、平等。

既然我已經列出了這些詐欺和歪曲行為的目錄，那麼讓我再舉一個例子來說明它們會導致什麼樣的寫作。這一次，它本質上必定是想像的。我要把一段優美的英文翻譯成最差的現代英文。這是傳道書中的一句著名經文：

我又轉念，見日光之下，快跑的未必能贏，力戰的未必能得勝，智慧的未必得糧食，聰明的未必得資財，靈巧的未必得喜悅。但時間和機會都會發生在他們身上。

現代英語版本如下：

客觀考慮當代現象可以得出這樣的結論：競爭活動中的成功或失敗並不傾向於與先天能力相稱，但必須考慮到相當多的不可預測因素。

這是一個戲仿，但不是很粗俗。例如，上面的圖 3 包含幾個相同類型的英語補丁。可以看出我並沒有進行完整的翻譯。句子的開頭和結尾與原意相當接近，但中間的具體例子——種族、戰鬥、麵包——融入了模糊的短語「競爭活動中的成功或失敗」。情況必然如此，因為沒有一位我正在討論的現代作家——沒有一位能夠使用像‘客觀’考慮當代現象這樣的短語——會以如此精確和詳細的方式列出他的想法。現代散文的整個趨勢是遠離具體性。現在更仔細地分析這兩個句子。第一個字有49個字，但只有60個音節，而且都是日常生活用語。第二個字包含 38 個單字，共 90 個音節：其中 18 個單字來自拉丁語字根，1 個單字來自希臘語。第一句話有六個生動的形象，只有一個片語（「時間和機會」）可以稱得上是模糊的。第二句話沒有一個新鮮的、引人注目的短語，儘管它有 90 個音節，但它只表達了第一句話含義的縮寫。但毫無疑問，第二種句子在現代英語中越來越流行。我不想誇大其詞。這種寫作方式尚未普及，在寫得最糟糕的頁面上，到處都會出現簡單的痕跡。儘管如此，如果有人讓你或我寫幾行關於人類命運不確定性的文字，我們可能會更接近我想像中的句子，而不是《傳道書》中的句子。

正如我試圖表明的，現代寫作最糟糕的地方並不在於為了解其意義而挑選詞語，也不在於為使意義更清晰而創造圖像。它就是把別人已經排好序的長條單字黏在一起，然後透過純粹的欺騙手段使結果呈現出來。這種寫作方式的吸引力在於它很簡單。一旦養成了習慣，說「在我看來，這不是一個不合理的假設」會比說「我認為」更容易，甚至更快。如果您使用現成的短語，您不僅不必到處尋找單字；您也不必擔心句子的節奏，因為這些短語的排列通常或多或少都是悅耳的。當你匆忙創作時——例如，當你向速記員口述或發表公開演講時——很自然地會陷入一種自命不凡的拉丁化風格。諸如我們應該牢記的考慮或我們所有人都會欣然同意的結論之類的標籤將使許多句子免於被打斷。透過使用陳舊的隱喻、明喻和習慣用語，您可以節省大量的腦力勞動，但代價是您的意圖會變得模糊，不僅對讀者如此，對您自己也是如此。這就是混合隱喻的意義。隱喻的唯一目的是喚起視覺影像。當這些意象發生衝突時——就像在《法西斯章魚唱完了它的天鵝之歌》中，長統靴被扔進了熔爐——可以肯定的是，作者並沒有在腦海中看到他所命名的物體的意象；換句話說，他並沒有真正思考。再看一下我在本文開頭給的例子。拉斯基教授（1）在53個字中使用了5種否定句。其中有一個是多餘的，使得整篇文章毫無意義，此外，還有一個將“alternate ”誤認為“akin”，使得文章更加毫無意義，還有一些可避免的笨拙之處，增加了整體的模糊性。霍格本教授（2）用一塊能開處方的電池玩起了捉迷藏，雖然他不贊同「忍受」這句日常用語，但他也不願讓自己顯得太過分。查一下字典，看看它的意思。 （3），如果一個人對它採取一種不友善的態度，它根本就沒有意義：也許人們可以透過閱讀出現它的整篇文章來弄清楚它的本意。在（4）中，作者或多或少知道自己想說什麼，但是陳腔濫調的累積就像茶葉堵住水槽一樣讓他感到窒息。在（5）中，詞語和含義幾乎分離。以這種方式寫作的人通常具有普遍的情感含義——他們不喜歡某件事並想表達對另一件事的支持——但他們對所說的細節不感興趣。一位嚴謹的作家，在寫每個句子時都會問自己至少四個問題，即：我想說什麼？用什麼詞語來表達呢？什麼圖像或成語可以使它更清楚？這張圖像是否夠新鮮，能夠產生影響力？他可能還會問自己兩個問題：我可以把它說得更短嗎？我是否說過任何可以避免的難聽的話？但你沒必要這麼做。你可以透過簡單地敞開心扉，讓現成的短語湧入來逃避它。它們會為你建立句子——甚至在某種程度上為你思考你的想法——並且在需要時它們會發揮重要作用，甚至對你自己也部分隱藏你的意思。正是在這一點上，政治與語言貶低之間的特殊聯繫變得清晰起來。

在我們這個時代，政治寫作普遍都是糟糕的寫作。如果事實並非如此，我們通常會發現作者是某種反叛者，表達的是他個人的觀點，而不是「黨派路線」。不管是什麼顏色的正統觀念，似乎都要求一種毫無生氣的、模仿的風格。當然，各政黨的小冊子、社論、宣言、白皮書和副部長的演講中所用的政治方言確實有所不同，但它們的共同點在於，幾乎找不到新鮮、生動、自創的言論。當人們看到講台上一些疲憊不堪的騙子機械地重複著那些熟悉的短語——野蠻的暴行、鐵蹄、血跡斑斑的暴政、世界自由人民、肩並肩站在一起——人們常常會產生一種奇怪的感覺，覺得自己看到的不是一個活生生的人，而是一個假人：當光線照射到演講者的眼鏡上，把它們變成似乎沒有眼睛的圓盤時，這種空白感覺突然變得更加強烈。這並不完全是幻想。使用這種措辭的演講者已經把自己變成了一台機器。適當的聲音從他的喉嚨發出，但他的大腦卻沒有參與，就像他為自己選擇單字一樣。如果他正在發表的演講是他習慣於一遍又一遍地發表的演講，那麼他可能幾乎沒有意識到自己在說什麼，就像人們在教會裡做出回應一樣。這種意識的降低，即使不是不可或缺的，至少也有利於政治的一致性。

在我們這個時代，政治演說和寫作很大程度上是對站不住腳的言論的辯護。諸如英國繼續統治印度、蘇聯清洗和驅逐、向日本投放原子彈等事情確實可以被辯護，但其論點對於大多數人來說過於殘酷，難以面對，而且與政黨宣稱的目標不符。因此，政治語言必須大量地包含委婉語、循環論證和純粹的模糊性。毫無防禦能力的村莊遭到空中轟炸，居民被趕到鄉下，牲畜被機槍掃射，小屋被燃燒彈點燃：這就是所謂的平定。數以百萬計的農民被搶走了他們的農場，他們被趕到路上，只剩下他們能攜帶的東西：這就是所謂的人口轉移或邊界整頓。人們未經審判就被監禁多年，或者被從後頸處射殺，或者被送往北極伐木場死於壞血病：這被稱為消滅不可靠分子。如果人們想命名事物而不在腦海中勾勒出它們的形象，那麼就需要這樣的措詞。舉個例子，一些英語教授為俄羅斯極權主義辯護。他不能直接說『我相信如果能夠取得好結果就殺死你的對手』。因此，他可能會說這樣的話：

儘管我們坦率地承認蘇聯政權表現出某些人道主義者可能傾向於譴責的特徵，但我認為，我們必須同意，一定程度上限制政治反對派的權利是過渡時期不可避免的伴隨現象，而俄羅斯人民被要求經歷的嚴酷考驗在具體成就方面已經得到了充分的證明。

浮誇的風格本身就是一種委婉的說法。大量的拉丁語詞彙就像柔軟的雪花一樣落在事實上，模糊了輪廓並掩蓋了所有細節。清晰語言的最大敵人是不真誠。當一個人的真實目標和宣稱的目標之間存在差距時，他就會本能地使用長詞和枯燥的習語，就像烏賊噴出墨汁一樣。在我們這個時代，不存在『遠離政治』這種事。所有問題都是政治問題，而政治本身就是謊言、逃避、愚蠢、仇恨和精神分裂的集合。當整體氛圍不好時，語言必然會受到影響。我應該會發現——這只是我的猜測，沒有足夠的知識來驗證——由於獨裁統治，德語、俄語和義大利語在過去十年或十五年裡都衰落了。

但如果思想腐蝕語言，語言也會腐蝕思想。不良用法會透過傳統和模仿傳播開來，甚至在那些應該而且確實更懂行的人中間也會傳播開來。我一直在討論的低俗語言在某些方面非常方便。諸如「並非不合理的假設」、「還有很多不足之處」、「不會有任何好的目的」、「我們應該牢記的考慮」等短語是一種持續的誘惑，就像手邊總是有一包阿斯匹靈。回顧這篇文章，你肯定會發現我一次又一次地犯下了我所抗議的錯誤。透過今天早上的郵件，我收到了一本有關德國情況的小冊子。作者告訴我，他「感到有必要」寫這本書。我隨意翻開它，下面幾乎就是我看到的第一句話：「（盟軍）不僅有機會徹底改變德國的社會和政治結構，從而避免德國本土的民族主義反應，同時還有機會為合作和統一的歐洲奠定基礎。」你看，他「感到被迫」去寫作——大概是熟悉的新東西只有時刻保持警惕，才能防止現成的短語（奠定基礎、實現根本轉變）侵入我們的思想，而每一個這樣的短語都會麻醉我們大腦的一部分。

我之前說過，我們語言的頹廢也許是可以被治癒的。那些否認這一點的人會爭辯說，如果他們真的提出論點的話，語言僅僅反映了現有的社會條件，我們不能透過直接修改詞彙和結構來影響其發展。就語言的整體基調或精神而言，這可能是正確的，但就細節而言則不然。愚蠢的字詞和表達方式經常會消失，這並不是透過任何演化過程，而是由於少數人的有意識的行為。最近的兩個例子是「探索一切途徑」和「千方百計」，但都被一些記者的嘲笑所扼殺。如果有足夠多的人對這項工作感興趣的話，那麼一長串令人討厭的隱喻也可以被消除；而且，還應該有可能使“不存在”這一概念一笑置之[3]，減少普通句子中的拉丁語和希臘語的數量，去除外來語短語和零散的科學詞彙，總之，使自命不凡變得時髦。但這些都是小問題。捍衛英語的意思遠不止這些，也許最好先說它不包含的意思。

首先，它與古語、過時詞彙和表達方式的挽救、或建立一種永遠不能背離的「標準英語」無關。相反，它特別關注廢棄每一個已經失去作用的單字或習慣用語。它與正確的語法和句法無關，只要能表達清楚自己的意思，或者避免使用美國語，或者擁有所謂的“良好的散文風格”，語法和句法就並不重要。另一方面，它並不關心虛假的簡單性以及使書面英語口語化的嘗試。它甚至不意味著在每種情況下都優先使用撒克遜語而不是拉丁語，儘管它確實意味著使用最少、最短的詞語來表達自己的意思。最重要的是讓意義選擇詞語，而不是相反。在散文中，一個人對文字所能做的最糟糕的事情就是向文字屈服。當你想到一個具體的物體時，你會無言地思考，然後，如果你想描述你所想像的事物，你可能會四處尋找，直到找到似乎適合它的確切詞語。當你思考一些抽象的事物時，你從一開始就更傾向於使用文字，除非你有意識地努力阻止它，否則現有的方言就會湧入並為你完成工作，但代價是模糊甚至改變你的意思。也許最好的方法是盡可能地推遲使用文字，而透過圖像和感覺來盡可能清楚地表達自己的意思。之後，人們可以選擇（而不是簡單地接受）最能表達意思的短語，然後轉換並決定一個人的話語可能會給別人留下什麼印象。心靈的最後努力會剔除所有陳舊或混亂的圖像、所有預製的短語、不必要的重複以及普遍的欺騙和模糊性。但人們常常會對一個字或一個短語的效果產生懷疑，當本能失效時，人們需要可以依賴的規則。我認為以下規則可以涵蓋大多數情況：

我。切勿使用印刷品中常見的隱喻、明喻或其他修辭手法。

二。可以用短詞表達的地方，切勿使用長詞。

三。如果可以刪去某個詞，就一定要刪去。

四、在可以使用主動語態的地方，切勿使用被動語態。

v. 如果您能想到日常英語對應的詞，就不要使用外來詞、科學詞彙或行話。

六.與其說出任何徹頭徹尾野蠻的話，不如先打破這些規則。

這些規則聽起來很簡單，事實也如此，但是對於那些已經習慣了現在流行寫作風格的人來說，它們要求他們深刻地改變態度。人們可以保留所有這些，但仍然寫出糟糕的英語，但不能寫出我在本文開頭的五個樣本中引用的那種東西。

我在這裡並沒有考慮語言的文學用途，而只是將語言視為一種表達工具，而不是一種隱藏或阻止思考的工具。斯圖爾特·蔡斯 (Stuart Chase)等人幾乎聲稱所有抽象詞語都是毫無意義的，並以此為藉口倡導一種政治靜默主義。既然你不知道什麼是法西斯主義，你怎麼能與法西斯主義奮戰呢？我們不必接受這樣的荒謬言論，但我們應該要意識到，當前的政治混亂與語言的衰落有關，而從語言方面入手或許可以帶來一些改善。如果你簡化你的英語，你就會擺脫正統觀念中最糟糕的愚蠢行為。你不會說任何必要的方言，當你說出愚蠢的言論時，它的愚蠢程度會一目了然，甚至你自己也會意識到。政治語言——從保守黨到無政府主義者，所有政黨都有不同的政治語言——旨在使謊言聽起來真實，使謀殺聽起來體面，並使純粹的空談顯得堅定。一個人不可能一下子改變這一切，但至少可以改變自己的習慣，有時，如果他嘲笑得足夠大聲，他甚至可以把一些陳舊無用的短語——一些長統靴、阿喀琉斯之踵、溫床、熔爐、酸性測試、真正的地獄或其他一堆口頭垃圾——扔進它所屬的垃圾箱。

[1] 一個有趣的例子是，直到最近還在使用的英語花名正被希臘花名所取代，金魚草（snapdragon）變成了金魚草（antirrhinum），勿忘我（get-me-not）變成了勿忘我（ myosotis），等等。很難看出這種流行的變化有什麼實際原因：這可能是由於人們本能地避開更親切的詞語，並且模糊地認為希臘語是科學的。

[2] 例如：「康福特的感知與意象的普遍性，奇怪地在範圍上帶有惠特曼式的風格，在審美衝動上幾乎完全相反，繼續喚起那種顫抖的大氣累積，暗示著一種殘酷的、無情的寧靜的永恆……」雷·加德納透過精確瞄準簡單的靶心來得分。只是他們不那麼簡單，在這種滿足的悲傷中，流淌著比表面上苦樂參半的順從更多的情感。 （《詩歌季刊》）

[3]透過記住這句話， 我們可以治癒「不是不」的形成：一隻黑色的狗在一片綠色的田野上追逐一隻小兔子。

《地平線》， 1946年4月

The Orwell Foundation

‘What I have most wanted to do… is to make political writing into an art’

 

 

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Politics and the English Language

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Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the English language is in a bad way, but it is generally assumed that we cannot by conscious action do anything about it. Our civilization is decadent and our language – so the argument runs – must inevitably share in the general collapse. It follows that any struggle against the abuse of language is a sentimental archaism, like preferring candles to electric light or hansom cabs to aeroplanes. Underneath this lies the half-conscious belief that language is a natural growth and not an instrument which we shape for our own purposes.

Now, it is clear that the decline of a language must ultimately have political and economic causes: it is not due simply to the bad influence of this or that individual writer. But an effect can become a cause, reinforcing the original cause and producing the same effect in an intensified form, and so on indefinitely. A man may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the English language. It becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts. The point is that the process is reversible. Modern English, especially written English, is full of bad habits which spread by imitation and which can be avoided if one is willing to take the necessary trouble. If one gets rid of these habits one can think more clearly, and to think clearly is a necessary first step toward political regeneration: so that the fight against bad English is not frivolous and is not the exclusive concern of professional writers. I will come back to this presently, and I hope that by that time the meaning of what I have said here will have become clearer. Meanwhile, here are five specimens of the English language as it is now habitually written.

These five passages have not been picked out because they are especially bad – I could have quoted far worse if I had chosen – but because they illustrate various of the mental vices from which we now suffer. They are a little below the average, but are fairly representative examples. I number them so that I can refer back to them when necessary:

1. I am not, indeed, sure whether it is not true to say that the Milton who once seemed not unlike a seventeenth-century Shelley had not become, out of an experience ever more bitter in each year, more alien (sic) to the founder of that Jesuit sect which nothing could induce him to tolerate.

Professor Harold Laski (Essay in Freedom of Expression).

2. Above all, we cannot play ducks and drakes with a native battery of idioms which prescribes egregious collocations of vocables as the Basic put up with for tolerate, or put at a loss for bewilder.

Professor Lancelot Hogben (Interglossia).

3. On the one side we have the free personality: by definition it is not neurotic, for it has neither conflict nor dream. Its desires, such as they are, are transparent, for they are just what institutional approval keeps in the forefront of consciousness; another institutional pattern would alter their number and intensity; there is little in them that is natural, irreducible, or culturally dangerous. But on the other side, the social bond itself is nothing but the mutual reflection of these self-secure integrities. Recall the definition of love. Is not this the very picture of a small academic? Where is there a place in this hall of mirrors for either personality or fraternity?

Essay on psychology in Politics (New York).

4. All the ‘best people’ from the gentlemen’s clubs, and all the frantic Fascist captains, united in common hatred of Socialism and bestial horror at the rising tide of the mass revolutionary movement, have turned to acts of provocation, to foul incendiarism, to medieval legends of poisoned wells, to legalize their own destruction of proletarian organizations, and rouse the agitated petty-bourgeoise to chauvinistic fervor on behalf of the fight against the revolutionary way out of the crisis.

Communist pamphlet.

5. If a new spirit is to be infused into this old country, there is one thorny and contentious reform which must be tackled, and that is the humanization and galvanization of the B.B.C. Timidity here will bespeak canker and atrophy of the soul. The heart of Britain may be sound and of strong beat, for instance, but the British lion’s roar at present is like that of Bottom in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream – as gentle as any sucking dove. A virile new Britain cannot continue indefinitely to be traduced in the eyes or rather ears, of the world by the effete languors of Langham Place, brazenly masquerading as ‘standard English’. When the Voice of Britain is heard at nine o’clock, better far and infinitely less ludicrous to hear aitches honestly dropped than the present priggish, inflated, inhibited, school-ma’amish arch braying of blameless bashful mewing maidens!

Letter in Tribune.

Each of these passages has faults of its own, but, quite apart from avoidable ugliness, two qualities are common to all of them. The first is staleness of imagery; the other is lack of precision. The writer either has a meaning and cannot express it, or he inadvertently says something else, or he is almost indifferent as to whether his words mean anything or not. This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of political writing. As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated hen-house. I list below, with notes and examples, various of the tricks by means of which the work of prose-construction is habitually dodged.

Dying metaphors. A newly invented metaphor assists thought by evoking a visual image, while on the other hand a metaphor which is technically ‘dead’ (e. g. iron resolution) has in effect reverted to being an ordinary word and can generally be used without loss of vividness. But in between these two classes there is a huge dump of worn-out metaphors which have lost all evocative power and are merely used because they save people the trouble of inventing phrases for themselves. Examples are: Ring the changes on, take up the cudgels for, toe the line, ride roughshod over, stand shoulder to shoulder with, play into the hands of, no axe to grind, grist to the mill, fishing in troubled waters, on the order of the day, Achilles’ heel, swan song, hotbed. Many of these are used without knowledge of their meaning (what is a ‘rift’, for instance?), and incompatible metaphors are frequently mixed, a sure sign that the writer is not interested in what he is saying. Some metaphors now current have been twisted out of their original meaning without those who use them even being aware of the fact. For example, toe the line is sometimes written as tow the line. Another example is the hammer and the anvil, now always used with the implication that the anvil gets the worst of it. In real life it is always the anvil that breaks the hammer, never the other way about: a writer who stopped to think what he was saying would avoid perverting the original phrase.

Operators, or verbal false limbs. These save the trouble of picking out appropriate verbs and nouns, and at the same time pad each sentence with extra syllables which give it an appearance of symmetry. Characteristic phrases are: render inoperative, militate against, prove unacceptable, make contact with, be subject to, give rise to, give grounds for, have the effect of, play a leading part (role) in, make itself felt, take effect, exhibit a tendency to, serve the purpose of, etc. etc. The keynote is the elimination of simple verbs. Instead of being a single word, such as break, stop, spoil, mend, kill, a verb becomes a phrase, made up of a noun or adjective tacked on to some general-purposes verb such as prove, serve, form, play, render. In addition, the passive voice is wherever possible used in preference to the active, and noun constructions are used instead of gerunds (by examination of instead of by examining). The range of verbs is further cut down by means of the -ize and de- formations, and banal statements are given an appearance of profundity by means of the not un- formation. Simple conjunctions and prepositions are replaced by such phrases as with respect to, having regard to, the fact that, by dint of, in view of, in the interests of, on the hypothesis that; and the ends of sentences are saved from anticlimax by such resounding commonplaces as greatly to be desired, cannot be left out of account, a development to be expected in the near future, deserving of serious consideration, brought to a satisfactory conclusion, and so on and so forth.

Pretentious diction. Words like phenomenon, element, individual (as noun), objective, categorical, effective, virtual, basic, primary, promote, constitute, exhibit, exploit, utilize, eliminate, liquidate, are used to dress up simple statements and give an air of scientific impartiality to biassed judgements. Adjectives like epoch-making, epic, historic, unforgettable, triumphant, age-old, inevitable, inexorable, veritable, are used to dignify the sordid processes of international politics, while writing that aims at glorifying war usually takes on an archaic colour, its characteristic words being: realm, throne, chariot, mailed fist, trident, sword, shield, buckler, banner, jackboot, clarion. Foreign words and expressions such as cul de sac, ancien régime, deus ex machina, mutatis mutandis, status quo, Gleichschaltung, Weltanschauung, are used to give an air of culture and elegance. Except for the useful abbreviations i.e., e.g., and etc., there is no real need for any of the hundreds of foreign phrases now current in English. Bad writers, and especially scientific, political and sociological writers, are nearly always haunted by the notion that Latin or Greek words are grander than Saxon ones, and unnecessary words like expedite, ameliorate, predict, extraneous, deracinated, clandestine, sub-aqueous and hundreds of others constantly gain ground from their Anglo-Saxon opposite numbers[1]. The jargon peculiar to Marxist writing (hyena, hangman, cannibal, petty bourgeois, these gentry, lackey, flunkey, mad dog, White Guard, etc.) consists largely of words translated from Russian, German, or French; but the normal way of coining a new word is to use a Latin or Greek root with the appropriate affix and, where necessary, the -ize formation. It is often easier to make up words of this kind (deregionalize, impermissible, extramarital, non-fragmentatory and so forth) than to think up the English words that will cover one’s meaning. The result, in general, is an increase in slovenliness and vagueness.

Meaningless words. In certain kinds of writing, particularly in art criticism and literary criticism, it is normal to come across long passages which are almost completely lacking in meaning[2]. Words like romantic, plastic, values, human, dead, sentimental, natural, vitality, as used in art criticism, are strictly meaningless, in the sense that they not only do not point to any discoverable object, but are hardly even expected to do so by the reader. When one critic writes, ‘The outstanding feature of Mr. X’s work is its living quality’, while another writes, ‘The immediately striking thing about Mr. X’s work is its peculiar deadness’, the reader accepts this as a simple difference of opinion. If words like black and white were involved, instead of the jargon words dead and living, he would see at once that language was being used in an improper way. Many political words are similarly abused. The word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies ‘something not desirable’. The words democracy, socialism, freedom, patriotic, realistic, justice, have each of them several different meanings which cannot be reconciled with one another. In the case of a word like democracy, not only is there no agreed definition, but the attempt to make one is resisted from all sides. It is almost universally felt that when we call a country democratic we are praising it: consequently the defenders of every kind of régime claim that it is a democracy, and fear that they might have to stop using that word if it were tied down to any one meaning. Words of this kind are often used in a consciously dishonest way. That is, the person who uses them has his own private definition, but allows his hearer to think he means something quite different. Statements like Marshal Pétain was a true patriot, The Soviet press is the freest in the world, The Catholic Church is opposed to persecution, are almost always made with intent to deceive. Other words used in variable meanings, in most cases more or less dishonestly, are: class, totalitarian, science, progressive, reactionary, bourgeois, equality.

Now that I have made this catalogue of swindles and perversions, let me give another example of the kind of writing that they lead to. This time it must of its nature be an imaginary one. I am going to translate a passage of good English into modern English of the worst sort. Here is a well-known verse from Ecclesiastes:

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Here it is in modern English:

Objective consideration of contemporary phenomena compels the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.

This is a parody, but not a very gross one. Exhibit 3 above, for instance, contains several patches of the same kind of English. It will be seen that I have not made a full translation. The beginning and ending of the sentence follow the original meaning fairly closely, but in the middle the concrete illustrations – race, battle, bread – dissolve into the vague phrase ‘success or failure in competitive activities’. This had to be so, because no modern writer of the kind I am discussing – no one capable of using phrases like ‘objective’ consideration of contemporary phenomena’ – would ever tabulate his thoughts in that precise and detailed way. The whole tendency of modern prose is away from concreteness. Now analyse these two sentences a little more closely. The first contains 49 words but only 60 syllables, and all its words are those of everyday life. The second contains 38 words of 90 syllables: 18 of its words are from Latin roots, and one from Greek. The first sentence contains six vivid images, and only one phrase (‘time and chance’) that could be called vague. The second contains not a single fresh, arresting phrase, and in spite of its 90 syllables it gives only a shortened version of the meaning contained in the first. Yet without a doubt it is the second kind of sentence that is gaining ground in modern English. I do not want to exaggerate. This kind of writing is not yet universal, and outcrops of simplicity will occur here and there in the worst-written page. Still if you or I were told to write a few lines on the uncertainty of human fortunes, we should probably come much nearer to my imaginary sentence than to the one from Ecclesiastes.

As I have tried to show, modern writing at its worst does not consist in picking out words for the sake of their meaning and inventing images in order to make the meaning clearer. It consists in gumming together long strips of words which have already been set in order by someone else, and making the results presentable by sheer humbug. The attraction of this way of writing is that it is easy. It is easier – even quicker, once you have the habit – to say In my opinion it is not an unjustifiable assumption that than to say I think. If you use ready-made phrases, you not only don’t have to hunt about for the words; you also don’t have to bother with the rhythms of your sentences, since these phrases are generally so arranged as to be more or less euphonious. When you are composing in a hurry – when you are dictating to a stenographer, for instance, or making a public speech – it is natural to fall into a pretentious, latinized style. Tags like a consideration which we should do well to bear in mind or a conclusion to which all of us would readily assent will save many a sentence from coming down with a bump. By using stale metaphors, similes and idioms, you save much mental effort, at the cost of leaving your meaning vague, not only for your reader but for yourself. This is the significance of mixed metaphors. The sole aim of a metaphor is to call up a visual image. When these images clash – as in The Fascist octopus has sung its swan song, the jackboot is thrown into the melting pot – it can be taken as certain that the writer is not seeing a mental image of the objects he is naming; in other words he is not really thinking. Look again at the examples I gave at the beginning of this essay. Professor Laski (1) uses five negatives in 53 words. One of these is superfluous, making nonsense of the whole passage, and in addition there is the slip alien for akin, making further nonsense, and several avoidable pieces of clumsiness which increase the general vagueness. Professor Hogben (2) plays ducks and drakes with a battery which is able to write prescriptions, and, while disapproving of the everyday phrase put up with, is unwilling to look egregious up in the dictionary and see what it means. (3), if one takes an uncharitable attitude towards it, is simply meaningless: probably one could work out its intended meaning by reading the whole of the article in which it occurs. In (4) the writer knows more or less what he wants to say, but an accumulation of stale phrases chokes him like tea-leaves blocking a sink. In (5) words and meaning have almost parted company. People who write in this manner usually have a general emotional meaning – they dislike one thing and want to express solidarity with another – but they are not interested in the detail of what they are saying. A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? And he will probably ask himself two more: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly? But you are not obliged to go to all this trouble. You can shirk it by simply throwing your mind open and letting the ready-made phrases come crowding in. They will construct your sentences for you – even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent – and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself. It is at this point that the special connection between politics and the debasement of language becomes clear.

In our time it is broadly true that political writing is bad writing. Where it is not true, it will generally be found that the writer is some kind of rebel, expressing his private opinions, and not a ‘party line’. Orthodoxy, of whatever colour, seems to demand a lifeless, imitative style. The political dialects to be found in pamphlets, leading articles, manifestos, White Papers and the speeches of Under-Secretaries do, of course, vary from party to party, but they are all alike in that one almost never finds in them a fresh, vivid, home-made turn of speech. When one watches some tired hack on the platform mechanically repeating the familiar phrases – bestial atrocities, iron heel, blood-stained tyranny, free peoples of the world, stand shoulder to shoulder – one often has a curious feeling that one is not watching a live human being but some kind of dummy: a feeling which suddenly becomes stronger at moments when the light catches the speaker’s spectacles and turns them into blank discs which seem to have no eyes behind them. And this is not altogether fanciful. A speaker who uses that kind of phraseology has gone some distance toward turning himself into a machine. The appropriate noises are coming out of his larynx, but his brain is not involved as it would be if he were choosing his words for himself. If the speech he is making is one that he is accustomed to make over and over again, he may be almost unconscious of what he is saying, as one is when one utters the responses in church. And this reduced state of consciousness, if not indispensable, is at any rate favourable to political conformity.

In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defence of the indefensible. Things like the continuance of British rule in India, the Russian purges and deportations, the dropping of the atom bombs on Japan, can indeed be defended, but only by arguments which are too brutal for most people to face, and which do not square with the professed aims of political parties. Thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness. Defenceless villages are bombarded from the air, the inhabitants driven out into the countryside, the cattle machine-gunned, the huts set on fire with incendiary bullets: this is called pacification. Millions of peasants are robbed of their farms and sent trudging along the roads with no more than they can carry: this is called transfer of population or rectification of frontiers. People are imprisoned for years without trial, or shot in the back of the neck or sent to die of scurvy in Arctic lumber camps: this is called elimination of unreliable elements. Such phraseology is needed if one wants to name things without calling up mental pictures of them. Consider for instance some comfortable English professor defending Russian totalitarianism. He cannot say outright, ‘I believe in killing off your opponents when you can get good results by doing so’. Probably, therefore, he will say something like this:

While freely conceding that the Soviet régime exhibits certain features which the humanitarian may be inclined to deplore, we must, I think, agree that a certain curtailment of the right to political opposition is an unavoidable concomitant of transitional periods, and that the rigours which the Russian people have been called upon to undergo have been amply justified in the sphere of concrete achievement.

The inflated style is itself a kind of euphemism. A mass of Latin words falls upon the facts like soft snow, blurring the outlines and covering up all the details. The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink. In our age there is no such thing as ‘keeping out of politics’. All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia. When the general atmosphere is bad, language must suffer. I should expect to find – this is a guess which I have not sufficient knowledge to verify – that the German, Russian and Italian languages have all deteriorated in the last ten or fifteen years, as a result of dictatorship.

But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. A bad usage can spread by tradition and imitation, even among people who should and do know better. The debased language that I have been discussing is in some ways very convenient. Phrases like a not unjustifiable assumption, leaves much to be desired, would serve no good purpose, a consideration which we should do well to bear in mind, are a continuous temptation, a packet of aspirins always at one’s elbow. Look back through this essay, and for certain you will find that I have again and again committed the very faults I am protesting against. By this morning’s post I have received a pamphlet dealing with conditions in Germany. The author tells me that he ‘felt impelled’ to write it. I open it at random, and here is almost the first sentence that I see: ‘(The Allies) have an opportunity not only of achieving a radical transformation of Germany’s social and political structure in such a way as to avoid a nationalistic reaction in Germany itself, but at the same time of laying the foundations of a co-operative and unified Europe.’ You see, he ‘feels impelled’ to write – feels, presumably, that he has something new to say – and yet his words, like cavalry horses answering the bugle, group themselves automatically into the familiar dreary pattern. This invasion of one’s mind by ready-made phrases (lay the foundations, achieve a radical transformation) can only be prevented if one is constantly on guard against them, and every such phrase anaesthetizes a portion of one’s brain.

I said earlier that the decadence of our language is probably curable. Those who deny this would argue, if they produced an argument at all, that language merely reflects existing social conditions, and that we cannot influence its development by any direct tinkering with words and constructions. So far as the general tone or spirit of a language goes, this may be true, but it is not true in detail. Silly words and expressions have often disappeared, not through any evolutionary process but owing to the conscious action of a minority. Two recent examples were explore every avenue and leave no stone unturned, which were killed by the jeers of a few journalists. There is a long list of fly-blown metaphors which could similarly be got rid of if enough people would interest themselves in the job; and it should also be possible to laugh the not un- formation out of existence[3], to reduce the amount of Latin and Greek in the average sentence, to drive out foreign phrases and strayed scientific words, and, in general, to make pretentiousness unfashionable. But all these are minor points. The defence of the English language implies more than this, and perhaps it is best to start by saying what it does not imply.

To begin with it has nothing to do with archaism, with the salvaging of obsolete words and turns of speech, or with the setting up of a ‘standard English’ which must never be departed from. On the contrary, it is especially concerned with the scrapping of every word or idiom which has outworn its usefulness. It has nothing to do with correct grammar and syntax, which are of no importance so long as one makes one’s meaning clear or with the avoidance of Americanisms, or with having what is called a ‘good prose style’. On the other hand it is not concerned with fake simplicity and the attempt to make written English colloquial. Nor does it even imply in every case preferring the Saxon word to the Latin one, though it does imply using the fewest and shortest words that will cover one’s meaning. What is above all needed is to let the meaning choose the word, and not the other way about. In prose, the worst thing one can do with words is to surrender to them. When you think of a concrete object, you think wordlessly, and then, if you want to describe the thing you have been visualising, you probably hunt about till you find the exact words that seem to fit it. When you think of something abstract you are more inclined to use words from the start, and unless you make a conscious effort to prevent it, the existing dialect will come rushing in and do the job for you, at the expense of blurring or even changing your meaning. Probably it is better to put off using words as long as possible and get one’s meanings as clear as one can through pictures and sensations. Afterward one can choose – not simply accept – the phrases that will best cover the meaning, and then switch round and decide what impression one’s words are likely to make on another person. This last effort of the mind cuts out all stale or mixed images, all prefabricated phrases, needless repetitions, and humbug and vagueness generally. But one can often be in doubt about the effect of a word or a phrase, and one needs rules that one can rely on when instinct fails. I think the following rules will cover most cases:

i. Never use a metaphor, simile or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.

ii. Never use a long word where a short one will do.

iii. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.

iv. Never use the passive where you can use the active.

v. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.

vi. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

These rules sound elementary, and so they are, but they demand a deep change of attitude in anyone who has grown used to writing in the style now fashionable. One could keep all of them and still write bad English, but one could not write the kind of stuff that I quoted in those five specimens at the beginning of this article.

I have not here been considering the literary use of language, but merely language as an instrument for expressing and not for concealing or preventing thought. Stuart Chase and others have come near to claiming that all abstract words are meaningless, and have used this as a pretext for advocating a kind of political quietism. Since you don’t know what Fascism is, how can you struggle against Fascism? One need not swallow such absurdities as this, but one ought to recognize that the present political chaos is connected with the decay of language, and that one can probably bring about some improvement by starting at the verbal end. If you simplify your English, you are freed from the worst follies of orthodoxy. You cannot speak any of the necessary dialects, and when you make a stupid remark its stupidity will be obvious, even to yourself. Political language – and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists – is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. One cannot change this all in a moment, but one can at least change one’s own habits, and from time to time one can even, if one jeers loudly enough, send some worn-out and useless phrase – some jackboot, Achilles’ heel, hotbed, melting pot, acid test, veritable inferno or other lump of verbal refuse – into the dustbin where it belongs.

[1] An interesting illustration of this is the way in which the English flower names which were in use till very recently are being ousted by Greek ones, snapdragon becoming antirrhinum, forget-me-not becoming myosotis, etc. It is hard to see any practical reason for this change of fashion: it is probably due to an instinctive turning-away from the more homely word and a vague feeling that the Greek word is scientific.

[2] Example: ‘Comfort’s catholicity of perception and image, strangely Whitmanesque in range, almost the exact opposite in aesthetic compulsion, continues to evoke that trembling atmospheric accumulative hinting at a cruel, an inexorably serene timelessness… Wrey Gardiner scores by aiming at simple bullseyes with precision. Only they are not so simple, and through this contented sadness runs more than the surface bitter-sweet of resignation’. (Poetry Quarterly.)

[3] One can cure oneself of the not un- formation by memorizing this sentence: A not unblack dog was chasing a not unsmall rabbit across a not ungreen field.

Horizon, April 1946