November 2004

Using That Word

by Robert C. Cumbow

Vizzini: Inconceivable!
Montoya: You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.
— The Princess Bride

The word “inconceivable” may or may not have meant what the ill-fated Sicilian thought it meant. But we all know lots of Vizzinis — and, if truth be told, most of us have a lot of Vizzini in us. We often use words and phrases because they seem to sound clever, when in fact, we have no idea what they mean. This time — submitted for your approval, as Rod Serling used to say — I offer a grab bag of words and phrases that many, perhaps most, people use incorrectly.

Let’s start with anxious — a word that means worried, vexed, or concerned. Most of our lives we’ve heard it misused as a synonym for “eager.” If you are particularly excited about a new movie, you are eager, not anxious, to see it. You may be eager to read the judge’s opinion or anxious about it, and possibly both; but the two words do not mean the same thing.

Now before you run to your reference library, and fire off a “gotcha!” letter telling me “It’s in the dictionary,” permit me this brief interlude: dictionaries do not prescribe correctness (and for the most part don’t pretend to). They codify usage. The fact that a word has been misunderstood so often by so many that it now appears in some dictionary as “accepted” does not mean that it is correct. It merely means that another of the subtle distinctions that once made our language so rich has been lost. Indeed, they are disappearing more rapidly than the rain forest — and, it seems, with fewer people to weep over their passing. More about that in a future column.

To return to our grab-bag: buxom is an example of a word that is frequently misunderstood and misused because of its similarity to another word. “Buxom” means “healthy,” usually in an earthy, ample, red-cheeked, farm-girl sort of way. It does not mean “large-breasted,” though its similarity to the word “bosom” is probably what causes many people to make that inappropriate association.

Chauvinistic doesn’t mean the same thing as “sexist.” A chauvinist — a word derived from the name of Nicholas Chauvin, a fanatical supporter of Napoleon Bonaparte — is someone who is enthusiastically devoted to some particular place, person, or cause. You might correctly say, “He’s very chauvinistic about Spokane,” or “He’s a Husky chauvinist.” You should not call someone a chauvinist because he tends to stereotype women. Such a person might be a sexist, or a male chauvinist, but not simply a chauvinist. The term “Male Chauvinism” was coined in the Sixties to refer to men who persisted in the outdated notions of chivalry, women as the weaker sex, men as protectors of women.

In the heyday of Rome’s military power, occasionally an enemy (or even a friendly) military unit would come in for group punishment, because of some perceived wrong. The name decimation (from the Latin for “ten”) was given to the process of executing every tenth man. While today the term need not be used in its strictest sense, it is nevertheless incorrect to use decimate to mean “obliterate” or “wipe out.” The correct sense of the term is to suggest a substantial loss or reduction. “The company’s work force was decimated by layoffs” might legitimately mean that a significant percentage of workers were laid off, say maybe somewhere from five to 20 percent. But if seven or eight out of every 10 workers were laid off, you’d need a stronger word than “decimate.” Perhaps “devastate” would be better — indeed, the fact that “decimate” sounds a lot like “devastate” may be the reason it is so often inappropriately used.

The word fortuitous doesn’t mean “fortunate.” It refers to a turn of fortune that may be bad or good or even indifferent. Its proper sense is of randomness or caprice, not of good luck. “I might have been rich but for a fortuitous stock market decline.”

This next one may seem a bit esoteric, but you’d be surprised how often it’s used by people, and how often they have it completely wrong: The term Immaculate Conception does not refer to the fact that Mary conceived and gave birth to Jesus Christ while remaining a virgin. That phenomenon is known as the Virgin Birth. In Christian — specifically Catholic — doctrine, Mary had the additional distinction of being the only person born free from Original Sin. Original Sin refers to the sin of pride, doubt, and self-sufficiency originally committed by Adam and Eve, meriting them expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Every human being since Adam and Eve is conceived tainted with Original Sin (a metaphor, as some would have it, for an inherently flawed human nature), with one exception. Because she was to be the vessel by which God’s son became flesh, Mary was conceived without the “stain” of Original Sin. That is what is meant by the Immaculate Conception: Mary’s own conception by her parents, not her conception of Jesus.

Another frequently misused term is the word literally, which means, well, “literally” — exactly what it says. For reasons unknown, many people seem to think the word “literally” is simply an intensifier, used only to add emphasis. “They were literally rolling in the aisles” means that the audience actually had left their seats, and their rows, and were rolling around in the aisles — not an impossible occurrence but an unlikely one. You shouldn’t use “literally” unless that is exactly what you mean.

People who speak of problems in getting from one place to another, or organizing an event, as logistical have it wrong. The term “logistics” is a military word referring to supply. If your issue is how to get the people properly provided with sufficient food, clothing, and equipment, it’s a logistical problem. If it’s a concern with how to get them from one place to another, how to handle the timing of a series of events, or how to surmount perceived obstacles, that’s a tactical issue, not a logistical one.

A favorite among lawyers is the word meretricious, which family lawyers know does not mean “meritorious.” This is another case of a word’s sound leading people to misinterpret its meaning. A meretricious relationship is a sexual relationship with a social stigma attached to it — usually living together outside of marriage, or a married man’s relationship with a mistress.

One of the most misused words in our language is nauseous. Many — I daresay most — people use it as if it meant “nauseated.” It doesn’t. It means “nauseating.” A correct use of the term would be, “The curtains were a nauseous shade of green.” The comment, “I feel nauseous,” by contrast, runs the risk of being greeted with the response, “Yes, and you look nauseous, too” — whose actual meaning would probably be lost on the original speaker.

During the height of controversy over the turbulent relationship between Princess Diana and Britain’s Royal Family, it was common to see references to the Queen Mother whose speakers clearly meant the Queen herself. “Queen Mother” is not a synonym for “the Queen”; it’s an honorific accorded specifically to the widow of King George VI. Under British succession, when a man becomes King, his wife is entitled to be called “Queen” — but of course she is not a monarch, she is simply a monarch’s wife. If the King dies, his widow does not become the monarch. That honor passes to the King’s heir — usually his firstborn son, if still living, otherwise, other sons, or daughters. But the King’s widow is still entitled to call herself “Queen.” When George VI died, his eldest daughter, Elizabeth, became Queen Elizabeth II. His wife, who was also named Elizabeth, became what had been traditionally known as “the Dowager Queen.” But this circumstance meant that two members of the Royal Family were entitled to be called “Queen Elizabeth.” This intolerable turn of events was avoided by creating the term “Queen Mother” for George VI’s widow. The popular “Queen Mum” died not long ago, at the age of 101, and it remains to be seen whether anyone else will ever bear the title Queen Mother.

Heard but not seen

A special sub-set of this grab-bag is devoted to words that are misused because of a confusion not as to their meaning but as to their spelling. This most commonly arises with words and phrases that are more often spoken than written. People hear them a lot, but when they come to write them down, they write them incorrectly because they have misinterpreted what they heard.
For example, it is common to criticize as ignorant or illiterate people who say “would of,” as in, “I would of gone to the movies if I’d had enough money.” The truth of the matter, however, is that what is being said is “would’ve,” a perfectly legitimate contraction of “would have.” Because “would’ve” sounds just like “would of,” the listener hears “would of,” and writes it that way in reporting the conversation. The error is the writer’s, not the speaker’s.

Other such “mis-hearings” include:

• free reign — a frequently seen misspelling of free rein, for relinquishing control. Both “rein” and “reign” suggest some sort of control; but the term “free rein” comes from the world of team animals, guided by reins, in which to give a horse “free rein” means to allow the horse to move as it pleases, and not to exercise control over it by working its reins.

• pouring over — a misspelling of poring over, meaning studying long and laboriously. No telling what the writer of “pouring over” thinks this phrase means.

• tow the line — a misspelling of toe the line, a phrase signifying obedience or acquiescence to control by keeping one’s toes on or behind the line, as opposed to “crossing the line,” “going over the line,” “getting out of line,” or simply “going too far.” It’s easy to see how the fact that towing is done by using a line (even called a towline in some contexts) could have led to a misunderstanding — and misspelling — of this expression.

The revenge of Mr. Science

Another interesting sub-set of words that don’t mean what we think they mean might be termed pseudo-science. Because scientific terms sound erudite, they can make their users sound (and feel) clever. But all too often, those who co-opt scientific terminology into their conversation or writing don’t bother to check whether the word they’ve pressed into service is really the right one for the job.

For example, it’s perfectly all right to refer to the parameters of a situation if you are referring to a set of interdependent variables, such that a change in one effects a change in all. But if what you mean is simply “boundaries,” “borders,” or “limitations,” any of those three words would be a more accurate and effective term to use than “parameters.” (That common mistake might have arisen because of the similarity between “parameter” and “perimeter.”) And never use “parameters” to refer simply to the general characteristics of a case or situation.

Similarly, a differential (as any mechanic can tell you) is not the same thing as a difference. The word “differential” refers to something that differentiates, not to something that is simply different.

It’s popular these days, especially for news reporters, to refer to the focal point of an event as the epicenter. The “epicenter” is the point on the earth’s surface directly above the point of origin of an earthquake. Thus an “epicenter” is not a true center or focal point of anything. This doesn’t mean we should never use the term “epicenter” except when talking about earthquakes. One of the glories of our language is its richness in metaphoric uses. But we do that glory a disservice if we use a term without considering whether it is an appropriate metaphor. It would be appropriate to say that Tiananmen Square was an epicenter of student rebellion, since it makes metaphoric sense to compare the impact of student revolt to an earthquake. On the other hand, to refer to New York as the “epicenter” of the theatre world would be merely pretentious.

It’s all right to use the word paradigm if you’re referring to an example of declension or conjugation giving all of the inflections of a particular word. It’s probably metaphorically correct to use the term for an overriding example or model that contains within itself all possibilities. But to use “paradigm” when all you mean is an “example” or a “model” is inappropriate and windy.

Some years ago, health food cultists co-opted the term organic as a way of distinguishing between “natural” and “artificial” foods and food preparation processes. In truth, all food is organic; if it weren’t, it wouldn’t (and couldn’t) be food. The phrase “organically grown” is fair enough. But, FDA rules notwithstanding, to use the term “organic” to separate some kinds of food from others displays nothing more than ignorance of both science and language.

That’ll do for now. Next time: “Those Troublesome Twins” — a column dedicated to all those who are never sure whether to use “principal” or “principle,” or whether it’s “affect” or “effect.” See you then.

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Robert C. Cumbow is a shareholder with Graham & Dunn, Seattle, where he counsels clients in beverage, food, communications, entertainment, and other businesses on trademark, copyright, advertising, media, and alcoholic beverage law. He teaches at Seattle University Law School and has written extensively on law, film, food, and language.

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