Daily Fix

Tripping & Falling:
The Language Trap

T. SHER SINGH

At the massive Vaisakhi Day celebrations in Surrey (Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada) last weekend -- 220,000 turned up for it -- the spokesman for the event, while speaking to the media, expressed his excitement at the presence of “one esteemed and holy guest” who had specially come all the way from Punjab to be part of it.

He described the visitor as “one of the five priests from Anandpur.”

And then “equated the priest’s holiness to that of Catholicism’s Pope.”

This is not the first time a comparison has been made between our jathedars and the Pope.

A dozen years ago, I recall, a Sikh-Canadian Member of Parliament, in an unusual burst of garrulity -- for him -- in the English language, was quoted in the media around the world with his description of the Jathedar of the Akal Takht.

“He is our Pope,” he had said.

As I said then in the media, and I continue to maintain now: a jathedar, any jathedar, no matter from where, is no more akin to the Pope than I am the queen of England.

I mean no disrespect to the Pope. Nor to our jathedars. On the contrary, I have the highest regard for their positions and the important role they play in Sikhdom. 

But no one in Sikhi, not even a jathedar, is a priest, or can be termed one by any stretch of the imagination. Nor can there ever be a valid comparison with a pope or any version of one in Sikhi.

I know the Vaisakhi spokesman in Surrey meant well. As did the MP. As do all who use the analogy carelessly, without giving a moment‘s thought to the implications of the words they utter when confronted by a microphone or a camera.

I know that there is no malice or mischief involved. Only a disconnect between the brain and the mouth.

I know what the spokesman was trying to say: that the jathedar is a very important personage in Sikh affairs. He wants to express it in superlatives, but sadly has no vocabulary to express it. So, he flails and gropes … and grabs a straw. The Pope, he knows, is highly respected in the religious realm.

So, he blurts out: “He is like a Pope!”

The mouth is in Canada, formulating sounds in the English language, while the brain is still ensconced in Punjab, the wheels clicking away in Punjabi. It gets further complicated with the Indian art of approximation: that is, accuracy is not the goal. As long as you are in the ball-park, anything goes!

So, out of the window goes the fact that there is no equivalent, N-O-T-H-I-N-G in Sikhi that comes even close to a priest. In fact, the very idea of a priesthood is anathema to our value and belief system.

A pope or an equivalent is another ten degrees removed.

But with the mouth, the brain and the heart sitting on separate continents, the spokesman grasps at a short-cut. And a mindless, meaningless statement ensues.

There is no understanding by our semi-literate spokespersons -- they may have degrees and talents in other fields, but their language and PR skills are not worth writing home about -- of the damage done.

The errors get reported in the media as facts, and then become part of the public record. Permanently.

Those who don’t know Sikhs well but genuinely desire to know more, learn about us through mistaken notions. Those who mean us ill, run with the errors and wave them at us every time it is to their advantage.

And our children. They lap them up as facts.

The error thus becomes perpetuated and, by sheer default, turns into a fact.

All because of a small dose of carelessness, fed by a dollop of laziness.

Ultimately, those who appoint (select, elect, support, facilitate, condone) these sub-standard spokespersons are the ones responsible for this daily debacle. 

Language is an art which is threatened and complicated by artifice. Hence, we need to be aware that its interpretation is a science. And requires expertise.

The average man on the street takes language for granted. He thinks of it as the last thing that needs attention or training.

The opposite is true. It requires exactitude, especially in the public sphere. 

There’s an extraordinary book called “The Language Trap” on the subject. It has been beside me in my study, never more than a few feet away, ever since I went into the study and practice of law.

It has done me yeoman service during much of my career. I turn to it at regular intervals to correct my bearings.

In it, S. Morris Engel warns us of “the traps of distorted meaning -- the logical short-circuits, emotion-laden irrelevancies, disguised ambiguities, specious appeals to authority, or principle, and myriad other linguistic devices that slyly try to persuade us to believe in things that are either unproven or downright false.”

In what he calls a “manual of verbal self-defense,” Engel goes on to encourage us to “confront such traps every day.

“Sometimes they are set for us deliberately by politicians, advertisers, journalists, lawyers, or other professional persuaders.

“Sometimes they are set inadvertently by our friends and even our loved ones.

“Worst of all, sometimes we set them for ourselves.”

If we don’t keep the proverbial eyes open, and our head engaged, there is a real risk.

We can so easily trip, slip, slide, tumble, fall … and take others down with us. 

April 24, 2013

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