What's in a Name?

My 10-year-old son is having an existential crisis of sorts.

He's trying to decide whether to start calling my wife and me “Mom and Dad,” or continue calling us “Mommy and Daddy.” For the past few years he's referred to us as “my mom and dad” when talking about us to others, but still uses “Mommy and Daddy” to our faces.

I told him to call us whatever he feels comfortable with, but to please not call me “Pop.” He doesn't see it that way. He thinks he needs to make a conscious effort to start using “Mom and Dad” because “Mommy and Daddy” sound childish; he doesn't want the kids at school to hear him say it because he's sure none of them say it anymore.

Using the right terminology, at the right time and for the right reasons, is one of the most important elements of effective writing.

For instance, on a corporate blog I read recently, one of the commenters was irritated about the use of “anagrams” in another person's comments. Fortunately, the CEO realized the commenter meant to say “acronyms” and responded appropriately. This is an unfortunate example of a malapropism, and many people are prone to such use of incorrect words. I once had a friend who, in describing how to get a client's attention, told me that he tried to establish a repertoire with the person first.

I always thought repertoire was like a bag of tricks, a list of songs or soliloquy or some other product one can pull out of a hat when the occasion arises. Not according to my old friend. I never had the heart to tell him I think he means “rapport.”

Unfortunately, there are other misuses of words that are less obvious but just as damaging to your credibility as a writer (or a speaker).

I often hear people saying “infer” when they really mean “imply,” for instance.

Although malapropisms do create the impression of ignorance, at least most of us know what the speaker is actually trying to say. Communication suffers more when someone uses a word that could be the right one, but isn't.

This is especially problematic when discussing topics of a policy or legal nature. As a corporate communicator I'm occasionally frustrated when people along the approval chain ask me to change something that has nothing to do with their area of expertise, like whether a speech should begin with “I'm happy to be here” as opposed to “It's my pleasure to be here.”

On the other hand, I have encountered situations where using alternate terminology to describe a policy decision means something entirely different from the idea we're trying to convey. I'm grateful to the numerous experts in my workplace who take the time to explain their rationale when they ask for changes of this sort. This knowledge only makes me better at my job. Fortunately, I've also developed pretty good instincts for determining when something could be improved by rewording it and when it needs to be left as it is.

The tendency to use “fancy” words can also lead to poor word choices, simply because many people don't have a strong grasp of the nuances of English. For instance, I was in a meeting once where somebody was describing what he called “substantive” change. The ranking executive in the room asked him whether he meant “substantive or substantial.” Now this individual had a disturbing habit of trying to show people up in meetings, but his point was a good one - there is a difference. The fact the person who who used the term wasn't actually sure whether he meant “substantive” or “substantial” hurt his credibility.

I have a few simple rules that I try to follow. One is that if I run a sentence or a word past someone I consider to be reasonably intelligent and that person doesn't know what I'm saying, then the fault is mine, not his; I'm the one who needs to find a better way to say it. Another rule is that I personally never use a word if I'm not sure I know what it means, except as a quote.

Good writing is not about impressing people with the size of your vocabulary, but about using the right words for the circumstances and your audience. If you use words incorrectly, your own credibility suffers. If you use words your audience doesn't understand, then it just goes to show that you haven't done your research. And if you hear someone else use an obvious malapropism, just let it go.

Agreeing to Disagree

Like many people, in light of the Arizona shooting tragedy I have suddenly become much more aware of the language that is used around political rhetoric. Even here in Canada, politicians have waged campaigns since the dawn of modern democracy. They take aim at policies, positions, ridings and even opponents. And here, too, high-ranking politicians sometimes receive threatening correspondence from unhappy citizens.

In my mind, it's a bit of a stretch to blame the tragedy on either left- or right-wing rhetoric, but the fact that people are now talking about inflammatory political language lends credence to the notion that we have a problem, regardless of its role in this particular incident.

Three things we do in the Westminster parliamentary model, however, set an example of decorum, even if our elected leaders don't always live up to it outside the House of Commons.

First of all, Cabinet Ministers are given the honorific, “honourable.” The Minister of Finance is “the Honourable Jim Flaherty.” The Prime Minister is “the Right Honourable Stephen Harper.” These titles remind our citizenry that while politics may be a game to some, it's also serious business.

Second of all, there are expressions that absolutely cannot be used inside the Commons or the Senate. “Liar” is one of them. The opposition can accuse a Minister of having her facts wrong, or even of having trouble separating fact from fiction. But call someone a liar and you have to either apologize for using “unparliamentary language” or be evicted from Parliament (by force if necessary) until you do apologize.

Third, Members of Parliament don't speak directly to their counterparts on the other side of the House. They address their questions and answers to the Speaker.

For instance, the opposition might ask, “Mr. Speaker, can the Minister of Foreign Affairs explain to the House why (insert issue here)?

The Minister might reply, “Mr. Speaker, the member opposite seems to expect the taxpayers to foot the bill for (insert response here).”

In this way, you never have politicians directly accusing each other of anything. It's all run through the filter of the Speaker.

I can't say it's a perfect system. Once the politicians leave the House the gloves come back off. And compared to how the British Parliament conducts itself, Canada's elected representatives seem like a roomful of schoolkids.

I'm sure the vast majority of Americans are aghast at the extreme language coming from both ends of the political spectrum. The move by one representative to have his colleagues sit together during the State of the Union address may never happen, but the fact that it can even be proposed is encouraging.

In the Westminster model, those representatives not part of the governing party are duty-bound to oppose the government. Hence, the term “Official Opposition” to describe the party with the second-largest number of seats in Parliament. There is very little deal-making going on, and none at all when the ruling party has more than 50 percent of the seats in the House.

Most of us have found a way to disagree and remain cordial, even friends. Most people, as well, would be amazed if they realized how much socializing goes on between politicians of different stripes when the microphones are turned off. It really is a game, just like hockey. When the final whistle blows the combatants meet at center ice and shake hands. Too bad some of their followers can't do the same.