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Guest
Guest
Geoffrey Nunberg, clever media linguist, examines what our words really mean, including the way Bush says 'nucular' - Heidi Benson, SF Chronicle, July 8, 2004
When a politician uses the word "nucular," it's no accident. The common mispronunciation of "nuclear" by folks who should know better -- including senators on the Armed Services Committee and military spokespeople -- is what linguist Geoffrey Nunberg calls a "thinko."
"In the mouths of those people, 'nucular' is a choice, not an inadvertent mistake -- a thinko, not a typo," says Nunberg, who is a senior researcher at the Center for the Study of Language and Information and a linguistics professor at Stanford.
"Typos can make you look foolish, but they aren't really the signs of an intellectual or ethical deficiency. It's the difference between a sentence that expresses an idea badly and a sentence that expresses a bad idea."
Fascinated by President Bush's mispronunciation of the word, Nunberg notes that Bush must have heard it spoken correctly at Andover, Yale and Harvard and from his father, who never had trouble saying "nuclear." "If Bush's 'nucular' is a deliberate choice, is it something he picked up from the Pentagon wise guys?" Nunberg asks.
"Or is it a faux-bubba pronunciation, the sort of thing he might have started doing at Andover or Yale, by way of playing the Texan to all those earnest Eastern dweebs?"
There's one way to find out: How does Bush pronounce the word when he uses a phrase like "nuclear family"? "If he says 'nucular' all the time, then it's most likely a faux-bubba thing. But if he only says 'nucular' for weapons, it's probably a bit of borrowed Pentagon swagger," he says.
"I'll be keeping my ears peeled."
If there is such a thing as a standup linguist, it's Nunberg. Fans of "Fresh Air" will recognize his radio voice -- a smooth, amused baritone. His timely commentary has been heard on that popular National Public Radio show since its inception. A collection of his most recent essays -- some of which were written for The San Francisco Chronicle, the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times -- was published by Public Affairs in May.
"Going Nucular: Language, Politics and Culture in Controversial Times" is an unapologetically partisan book that ponders the evolution of such terms as "regime change," "axis of evil" and "class warfare." Nunberg may be fairly described as the left's answer to William Safire (the former Nixon speechwriter whose New York Times grammar column is a must-read for word lovers and newshounds).
"I don't feel obliged to pretend to political neutrality as a journalist does," Nunberg says. A recent book party, held at the swank Stephen Wirtz Gallery in San Francisco, doubled as a campaign fund-raiser for John Kerry.
Special guest speaker Gary Hart (who is advising the Democratic candidate on foreign affairs and homeland security) urged the sushi-munching crowd to lobby friends, family and co-workers to vote for Kerry.
At the book party, Nunberg happily signed books and talked politics. "Lately, I've been writing a lot," he said, "just because I'm worked up." The titles of his essays alone signal mischief ("Beleaguered Infidel," "Caucasian Talk Circles," "We'll Always Have Kirkuk") and a familiarity with the American songbook ("Begin the Regime," "Where the Left Commences").
Whether taken aurally or read on the page, his writing -- like the best dinner-party conversation -- is provocative, brainy and funny, spiced with deft quotes from Austen, Camus and Shakespeare.
Linguistics is a technical discipline that analyzes the structure of language using tools derived from mathematics and logic -- which, Nunberg admits, "can be very formidable to a lay person."
What's funny is all that brainpower used to peer behind words. "Whenever you have repressed material lying just below the surface, you have an opportunity for a gag," he says, citing David Sedaris and Jerry Seinfeld. "Humor has to do with pointing out the obvious."
Nunberg seems custom made for the hipper TV talk-show circuit, but the level of questions he was asked recently on the Dennis Miller show brought him up short. The host's last parry was of the neocon Francophobe variety. "I hear you have French friends," Miller said with a leer. Nunberg, stunned, lacked a comeback. "Yes," he replied, and boom, the show was over.
Today he looks back with l'esprit de l'escalier (that is, "the spirit of the staircase," when one finds the right words only after the opportunity has passed). "Miller's an affable guy," he says, "but I should have gotten angry." Now that would have been worth staying up for.
"That 'nucular' pronunciation is really what linguists call a folk etymology," Nunberg explains, "where the unfamiliar word is treated as if it had the same suffix as words like molecular and particular."
The mispronunciation started with Eisenhower in the 1950s, after all. Clinton got it right only half the time, and Carter, a former student of nuclear physics, had his own way of saying it, too. So what's the big deal?
If it's intentional -- (that is, "faux bubba") -- Nunberg detects the kind of self-mockery designed to deflect criticism. Worse, it's a way to talk about scary weapons in "a folksy and familiar way."
Or, worst of all, it may signify certain people asserting their authority -- as in, "We're the ones with our fingers on the button, and we'll pronounce the word however we damn well please."
What he hopes to remind us is that in language lies clues to understanding the most divisive issues of the day. Long before George Orwell wrote "Animal Farm" or "1984," people have known that language can be an instrument of self-deception.
"With political language, the danger is that we think we do know what the words mean," Nunberg says. "As Humpty Dumpty said, it's a question of who is to be master, you or your words. If you're not conscious of the work your words are doing, then they speak you."
WORD GAMES - Here are a few examples of linguist and commentator Geoffrey Nunberg's insights into the way we talk today:
Blog: A syllable whose time has come.
Google: You don't get to be a verb unless you're doing something right.
Postmodernism: Once more without feeling.
When a politician uses the word "nucular," it's no accident. The common mispronunciation of "nuclear" by folks who should know better -- including senators on the Armed Services Committee and military spokespeople -- is what linguist Geoffrey Nunberg calls a "thinko."
"In the mouths of those people, 'nucular' is a choice, not an inadvertent mistake -- a thinko, not a typo," says Nunberg, who is a senior researcher at the Center for the Study of Language and Information and a linguistics professor at Stanford.
"Typos can make you look foolish, but they aren't really the signs of an intellectual or ethical deficiency. It's the difference between a sentence that expresses an idea badly and a sentence that expresses a bad idea."
Fascinated by President Bush's mispronunciation of the word, Nunberg notes that Bush must have heard it spoken correctly at Andover, Yale and Harvard and from his father, who never had trouble saying "nuclear." "If Bush's 'nucular' is a deliberate choice, is it something he picked up from the Pentagon wise guys?" Nunberg asks.
"Or is it a faux-bubba pronunciation, the sort of thing he might have started doing at Andover or Yale, by way of playing the Texan to all those earnest Eastern dweebs?"
There's one way to find out: How does Bush pronounce the word when he uses a phrase like "nuclear family"? "If he says 'nucular' all the time, then it's most likely a faux-bubba thing. But if he only says 'nucular' for weapons, it's probably a bit of borrowed Pentagon swagger," he says.
"I'll be keeping my ears peeled."
If there is such a thing as a standup linguist, it's Nunberg. Fans of "Fresh Air" will recognize his radio voice -- a smooth, amused baritone. His timely commentary has been heard on that popular National Public Radio show since its inception. A collection of his most recent essays -- some of which were written for The San Francisco Chronicle, the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times -- was published by Public Affairs in May.
"Going Nucular: Language, Politics and Culture in Controversial Times" is an unapologetically partisan book that ponders the evolution of such terms as "regime change," "axis of evil" and "class warfare." Nunberg may be fairly described as the left's answer to William Safire (the former Nixon speechwriter whose New York Times grammar column is a must-read for word lovers and newshounds).
"I don't feel obliged to pretend to political neutrality as a journalist does," Nunberg says. A recent book party, held at the swank Stephen Wirtz Gallery in San Francisco, doubled as a campaign fund-raiser for John Kerry.
Special guest speaker Gary Hart (who is advising the Democratic candidate on foreign affairs and homeland security) urged the sushi-munching crowd to lobby friends, family and co-workers to vote for Kerry.
At the book party, Nunberg happily signed books and talked politics. "Lately, I've been writing a lot," he said, "just because I'm worked up." The titles of his essays alone signal mischief ("Beleaguered Infidel," "Caucasian Talk Circles," "We'll Always Have Kirkuk") and a familiarity with the American songbook ("Begin the Regime," "Where the Left Commences").
Whether taken aurally or read on the page, his writing -- like the best dinner-party conversation -- is provocative, brainy and funny, spiced with deft quotes from Austen, Camus and Shakespeare.
Linguistics is a technical discipline that analyzes the structure of language using tools derived from mathematics and logic -- which, Nunberg admits, "can be very formidable to a lay person."
What's funny is all that brainpower used to peer behind words. "Whenever you have repressed material lying just below the surface, you have an opportunity for a gag," he says, citing David Sedaris and Jerry Seinfeld. "Humor has to do with pointing out the obvious."
Nunberg seems custom made for the hipper TV talk-show circuit, but the level of questions he was asked recently on the Dennis Miller show brought him up short. The host's last parry was of the neocon Francophobe variety. "I hear you have French friends," Miller said with a leer. Nunberg, stunned, lacked a comeback. "Yes," he replied, and boom, the show was over.
Today he looks back with l'esprit de l'escalier (that is, "the spirit of the staircase," when one finds the right words only after the opportunity has passed). "Miller's an affable guy," he says, "but I should have gotten angry." Now that would have been worth staying up for.
"That 'nucular' pronunciation is really what linguists call a folk etymology," Nunberg explains, "where the unfamiliar word is treated as if it had the same suffix as words like molecular and particular."
The mispronunciation started with Eisenhower in the 1950s, after all. Clinton got it right only half the time, and Carter, a former student of nuclear physics, had his own way of saying it, too. So what's the big deal?
If it's intentional -- (that is, "faux bubba") -- Nunberg detects the kind of self-mockery designed to deflect criticism. Worse, it's a way to talk about scary weapons in "a folksy and familiar way."
Or, worst of all, it may signify certain people asserting their authority -- as in, "We're the ones with our fingers on the button, and we'll pronounce the word however we damn well please."
What he hopes to remind us is that in language lies clues to understanding the most divisive issues of the day. Long before George Orwell wrote "Animal Farm" or "1984," people have known that language can be an instrument of self-deception.
"With political language, the danger is that we think we do know what the words mean," Nunberg says. "As Humpty Dumpty said, it's a question of who is to be master, you or your words. If you're not conscious of the work your words are doing, then they speak you."
WORD GAMES - Here are a few examples of linguist and commentator Geoffrey Nunberg's insights into the way we talk today:
Blog: A syllable whose time has come.
Google: You don't get to be a verb unless you're doing something right.
Postmodernism: Once more without feeling.
IF I had filum in my camer I'd take a pitcher of my butt so you could kiss it.
