My cousin Theresa was in Tower One when the first plane hit, so any discussion of 9/11 brings with it deep emotions that often make cool reasoning difficult or impossible. Truth be told, I have mixed feelings about the controversy over the “mosque” at “ground zero.”
The debate over the “mosque” at “ground zero” is, in part, a fight over language. These days, the first side to frame the debate in language favorable to its position often gets the upper hand. Defenders of the project, including the mayor of New York City, have pointed out that what is proposed is not a mosque, per se, but a cultural and community center, and that its proposed location is more than two long blocks from the hallowed ground now called “ground zero.”
To understand the language of the debate — and to report it responsibly — requires an understanding of the words denotation and connotation. The first refers to a word’s literal meaning; the second to all the associations that come with it. Naked and nude are synonyms, but the former connotes vulnerability, the second artistic confidence.
Sneaking into the limo vs. striding into the sedan
I learned the distinction between denote and connote in 1972, during the presidential campaign pitting Richard Nixon against George McGovern. I have not saved an English teacher’s specific example, but it went something like this:
A. Nixon was spotted sneaking into his limousine.
B. McGovern was seen striding into his sedan.
Secret editorials, argued the teacher, often appeared in the sheep’s clothing of straight reporting. S.I. Hayakawa, the great semanticist who would become a United States senator, wrote in 1937 about the need for the unbiased report as an instrument of self-government. To write a straight report, he wrote, the author must avoid “loaded words.”
How do you load a word? By choosing language that carries with it immediate — but sometimes hidden — associations.
Both McGovern and Nixon could have been described as “getting into their cars.” But Nixon sneaks into his limo, a vehicle often associated with the underworld. McGovern, on the other hand, strides into the people’s car, a sedan.
In my book The Glamour of Grammar, I argue that all hot-button political issues become battles for the linguistic upper hand:
Consider these examples:
- civil war vs. sectarian violence in Iraq
- pro-choice vs. pro-abortion vs. anti-abortion vs. pro-life
- illegal alien vs. illegal immigrant vs. undocumented worker
- refugee vs. evacuee
- invasion vs. incursion vs. police action vs. act of war
- strategic withdrawal vs. cut and run
- prisoner of war vs. enemy combatant
- Islamo-fascist vs. jihadist vs. terrorist vs. Muslim fanatic vs. Iraqi insurgent
The gravity of these word choices weighs heavily on the writer and editor, as it should. For in politics, each term carries ideological meaning, even as it appears to the world under the veil of impartiality. My terrorist, as they say, is your freedom fighter.
Inspecting the language of “anchor baby” and “intact dilation and extraction”
I noticed with approval that columnist Connie Schultz devoted an essay to the language of those involved in the volatile debate over immigration. She criticized the characterization by conservatives of women who cross the U.S. border illegally and then “drop a baby,” that is, give birth to what is then called an “anchor baby,” a child with legal status.
Schultz is a columnist, free to opine, but her strategy can work just as well for reporters. Rather than just accept the language of the antagonists, especially if it has already become the default language of search engines, the reporter can hold up the language for inspection.
Let’s take the debate over a procedure performed on the fetus of a pregnant woman late in the pregnancy. Defenders referred to it in medical language: “intact dilation and extraction,” which, perhaps by intent, is hard for the common person to visualize. Opponents chose a more graphic term, one that came to define the issue: “partial birth abortion.”
All political parties — from the right and the left — choose loaded words that suit their propaganda purposes. Such words appeal to emotions rather than to reason. At their worst they become a substitute for thinking.
For reasons I can’t explain, conservatives have been more successful than liberals at crafting the language that frames these debates. A cultural and community center sends out positive vibes; most of us approve of culture and community and like being at the center. A mosque still sounds foreign and dangerous to many American ears. The word has a long history and is related to the word masjid, Aramaic (the language of Jesus!) meaning “to bow down, worship.”
“Ground zero” has a number of definitions in the American Heritage Dictionary:
- Target of a missile
- Area where an atomic bomb is detonated
- A center of explosive change
- A starting point (as in “going back to ground zero on that idea”)
None of these capture the emotional power of the destruction of 9/11 and its aftermath. Yes, the Twin Towers were destroyed by jetliners turned into missiles. But, if I had to define it now, I would want to include a connotation of “hallowed ground”; Ground Zero (with capital letters) is, after all, a place where pilgrims (aka tourists) visit to remember the dead, to pray, to sing hymns, to toll bells, to cry.
Consider then the rhetorical power of the juxtaposition of mosque and ground zero, both as a political ploy and also as news media shorthand. The first has the effect of defiling the second, even if it turns out that it’s not really a mosque and is not exactly at ground zero.
As a reporter, I would not use either term automatically. A diligent writer must be aware of the denotation of a word and its connotations as well, associations that may unfairly load what is supposedly a neutral text with all kinds of disguised opinion.