Originally published in: Student Lawyer, November 2007, Vol. 36, No. 3, All rights reserved

 

Most of us need to work hard at being plain-spoken. Oddly, achieving a natural style takes a lot of effort because of an unconscious tendency toward verbal inflation. When it comes to word choice, we should follow the advice of the revered brothers Fowler, who in their 1906 book The King’s English advised: prefer simple words over fancy ones (house, not residence), concrete words over abstract ones (pay, not remuneration or recompense), short words over long ones (end or fire over terminate).

Three related linguistic viruses discourage plain-spokenness: (1) genteelisms—words and phrases by which insecure people try to raise their Social status; (2) officialese—language that many people consider “official-sounding”; and (3) commercialese—language that is commonly found in formulaic business correspondence. The ‑ ese suffix found in officialese and commercialese, as in legalese, denotes a caricatured literary style. Other types include academese and journalese. But officialese and commercialese, together with genteelisms, make up a peculiar overlay for lawyers’ language.

Genteelisms move us into the realm of sociolinguistics. They’re a linguistic phenomenon that correlates to social class. You see, sociolinguists have long known that social insecurity leads people to inflate their word choice, as if doing so might enhance their social position. They feel more “professional.” So low-status people adopt what they think are middle-status words. And they virtually always get it wrong. Likewise, middle-status people adopt what they think are high-status words (again getting it wrong). Their attempts backfire. This age-old, much-studied use of genteelisms rigidifies social stratification. Instead of providing people with social uplift, pretentious word choices help keep them down.

Linguists have studied this phenomenon for decades and have tagged it with some jargon of their own: U (denoting upper-class speech) and non-U (denoting non-upper-class speech). You want examples? Sweat (U), perspire (non-U). Before (U), prior to (non-U). Later (U), subsequently (non-U). Try (U), endeavor (non-U). Now (U), at this time (non-U). Happen (U), transpire (non-U). Do you see a trend there? The fancy-pants expressions are typically non-U genteelisms.

Stylists universally condemn genteelisms. Eric Partridge, a lexicographer and usage expert, called them “words and phrases that the semiliterate and far too many of the literate believe to be more elegant than the terms they displace.” Even Emily Post, the 20th century’s leading adviser to Americans on matters of etiquette, scorned genteelisms as “pseudo-elegance . . . on a par with curled up third and little fingers holding a teacup.”

Closely related to genteelisms is “officialese.” It’s the language of petty officials. For example, when you get off an airplane—er, “deplane”—in Los Angeles, you’re greeted with endless repeats of the following message: “Please Maintain Visual Contact with your personal property at all times.” Not watch but maintain visual contact. Not closely but at all times. Not belongings but personal property (presumably your real property is exempt).

Like genteelisms, officialese is puffed-up language meant to elevate the user’s status. Whereas genteelisms are intended to project an elevated social status, officialese is intended to project an air of authority supposedly fitting a “professional.” But the result in either case can be ludicrous. Police-talk, to take an extreme example, is an easy target for satirical jabs: “The white males proceeded at a high rate of speed to the intersection of State Highway 37, where they exited their vehicle. The officers then exited their vehicles and engaged in foot pursuit of the white males.” The police don’t like getting out of their cars and running after people; they prefer exiting their vehicles and engaging in foot pursuit.

The root of officialese may lie in the official’s role as an intermediary between the law and the public. That role often seemingly requires the official to approximate legal language. Further, officials naturally want to dignify their positions. So they prefer long sentences over short ones, fancy words over plain ones, vagueness over directness, passive voice over active, and buzzwords over traditional expressions.

Officials addicted to officialese “incent” their employees. They “utilize” resources. They “effectuate” plans. They “transmit” papers. They “task” people. They “impact” lives. And they love to “administrate” wherever they “office.” And when they write letters, they’re fond of commercialese. That is, they’ve learned to sound like machines, not people. They sound like self-important bureaucrats. They’re faceless.

In fact, good business letters—like good personal letters—should reflect that the writer is direct, pleasant, and unpretentious. But most do the opposite. Often, a poor tone in legal and other business correspondence stems from laziness. The classic excuse for using an unduly formal style—“we’ve always done it that way”—can be hard to stand against. After all, there are many formulas out there for writing poorly, especially in routine correspondence: you just mimic those ancient (and often meaningless) words and phrases that you’ve seen other people use so often.

If you want to write a bad letter, start with Enclosed please find. Business-writing authorities have universally condemned the phrase for well over a century. The better wording is Enclosed is, Enclosed are, Here is, or Here are. The old phrasing has no defenders—at least none who are willing to go on the record.

If you want to write effective letters, put down the words that you would say to the recipient if he or she were with you in your office. Be conversational. Be real.

Yet there are many hoary old phrases that letter writers keep on life support: at your earliest convenience (make it as soon as you can), in light of the fact that (make it because), pursuant to your instructions (make it as you requested), as per our telephone discussion (make it as we discussed).

Of course, plain English looks easy and sounds easy. But it isn’t. As the great historian Jacques Barzun once remarked, “Simple English is no one’s mother tongue. It has to be worked for.” Indeed. It doesn’t come naturally at all. It goes against the grain.