Words. They get us into trouble all the time. So many meanings. So many connotations. Just the way we say them can evoke an unexpected response. But the very nature of words reveals how brains work: Their truth is the truth of the moment, of experience, and of wish. Stay tuned; this one’s bound to offend someone.
If you rummage around the www long enough you’ll eventually stumble upon journals that cover just about every subject. I’m not talking Vogue,Time, or People here. Scientific journals. Their titles give a hint of what they contain. Food for thought here: What is the focus of Journal of Agricultural Science and Food Research? That’s an easy one. How about Irrigation and Drainage Systems Engineering? Not interested? Yeah. That one is pretty specialized. Okay, try this one: Journal of Physical Mathematics. Perplexed? Don’t blame you. Me, too.
Now, I don’t doubt that the subscribers to Journal of Physical Mathematics are bright people with bright ideas. There’s something about the word mathematics that makes us think Einstein, Hawking, and professors with chalkboards, chalk dust, and strange symbols with intermixed numbers. Here are a couple of the journal’s articles that might catch your eye, some readings you promise you’ll get to later: “New Exact Solutions for the Maccari System,” “The Homotopy Analysis Method for a Fourth-Order Initial Value Problems” (Huh? “a”?), and “Bound State Solutions of the Klein-Gordon Equation for…yada, yada, yada.” Yes, you have to be specialist to have both interest and understanding.
Okay, forget the part about not being a mathematician and not having any interest because of that math class you had to suffer to get a diploma or degree. Let’s just concentrate on the title of the journal (Journal of Physical Mathematics in case you forgot). Think about the combination of physical and mathematics. If you are like me, you’ll say, “Are those words reversed? Are we talkin’ mathematics of physics? Now, that I could see. That makes sense, since outside of observing processes that involve energy, forces, and matter, most physics is conducted through mathematics. But “physical mathematics”? Isn’t that what I did with an abacus? With apples? “If Dorothy has two red shoes, and the Wicked Witch takes one away, will Dorothy have to hop down the Yellow Brick Road?”
You see the brain’s problem with words. Even the most precise use by the most intelligent among us can lead to misunderstanding because we always communicate with another brain that has a different experience of the world. Even in the most precisely constructed sentence some reader or listener might find a connotation that is personally based and often biased. As a result, we often guess meaning and intention, sometimes embarrassing ourselves in awkward first meetings, for example.
No big deal here. Just a tiny thought: Sign language, body language, winks and facial expressions, cultural gestures, and, yes, words add up to a general understanding of what we want from one another or what we want to give to one another. Let’s end with an example that led to a famous incident retold by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in his “The Charge of the Light Brigade.”
Six hundred seventy-three English cavalrymen of the Light Brigade charged through the “valley of death” during the battle of Balaclava (Ukrainian Балаклава; town for which the knitted ski mask is named) during the Crimean War. The charge became almost instantly famous (or infamous) thanks to the telegraph and to Tennyson. Two rival brothers-in-law, the Earl of Lucan and the Earl of Cardigan (for whom the sweater is named), had long been at odds. During the campaign against the Russians, both headed cavalry, with Cardigan in charge of the Light Brigade and Lucan designated his superior and the one in overall command of both the “heavies” and the lightly armed—and swift—light cavalry brigade. Superior to both was First Baron Raglan who issued the order to retake guns and the redoubt captured by the Russians on an adjacent highland.
Raglan’s position during the battle was from a highland west of the North and South Valleys. Raglan sent Captain Louis Nolan to tell Lucan to recapture the guns lost to the Russians, but Lucan could not, from his position, see any such lost weapons. So, when Nolan said he must attack, Lucan asked, “Attack what? What guns, sir?” Nolan waved imprecisely toward what was to become known as the “Valley of Death,” and not toward the redoubts on the adjacent hill where Raglan had meant for them to attack.
Lucan and Cardigan allowed their dislike of each other to influence their field decision. They also blindly followed an order they misunderstood. The Russians had men and artillery positioned along the sides and at the opposite end of the valley. Cardigan, never known as particularly bright, could see that the Russians had lined the sides and opposite end of the valley with artillery and riflemen, so he questioned the order. Lucan, however, told his brother-in-law, “We have no choice but to obey.”
Mentally map this. Put yourself in this position. You don’t have exact knowledge of the task; you see folly in the task as stated, and you have to obey an order with obvious dire consequences. The consequences of the reckless charge? One hundred ten cavalrymen were killed, 129 were wounded, and 32 were captured.
I know, this seems a stretch from the Journal of Physical Mathematics, but think about all that any brain has to do to communicate with another brain “precisely” to achieve a goal. Words have connotations. People have their own experiences. Levels of intelligence and learning vary.
The next time you get a bit huffy because you weren’t understood exactly, think of the burden on that other brain that has to handle not only your words, but also your demeanor, your actions, and its own complex issues and demeanor.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Someone had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs But to do and die:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Choose your words and gestures carefully.
If you rummage around the www long enough you’ll eventually stumble upon journals that cover just about every subject. I’m not talking Vogue,Time, or People here. Scientific journals. Their titles give a hint of what they contain. Food for thought here: What is the focus of Journal of Agricultural Science and Food Research? That’s an easy one. How about Irrigation and Drainage Systems Engineering? Not interested? Yeah. That one is pretty specialized. Okay, try this one: Journal of Physical Mathematics. Perplexed? Don’t blame you. Me, too.
Now, I don’t doubt that the subscribers to Journal of Physical Mathematics are bright people with bright ideas. There’s something about the word mathematics that makes us think Einstein, Hawking, and professors with chalkboards, chalk dust, and strange symbols with intermixed numbers. Here are a couple of the journal’s articles that might catch your eye, some readings you promise you’ll get to later: “New Exact Solutions for the Maccari System,” “The Homotopy Analysis Method for a Fourth-Order Initial Value Problems” (Huh? “a”?), and “Bound State Solutions of the Klein-Gordon Equation for…yada, yada, yada.” Yes, you have to be specialist to have both interest and understanding.
Okay, forget the part about not being a mathematician and not having any interest because of that math class you had to suffer to get a diploma or degree. Let’s just concentrate on the title of the journal (Journal of Physical Mathematics in case you forgot). Think about the combination of physical and mathematics. If you are like me, you’ll say, “Are those words reversed? Are we talkin’ mathematics of physics? Now, that I could see. That makes sense, since outside of observing processes that involve energy, forces, and matter, most physics is conducted through mathematics. But “physical mathematics”? Isn’t that what I did with an abacus? With apples? “If Dorothy has two red shoes, and the Wicked Witch takes one away, will Dorothy have to hop down the Yellow Brick Road?”
You see the brain’s problem with words. Even the most precise use by the most intelligent among us can lead to misunderstanding because we always communicate with another brain that has a different experience of the world. Even in the most precisely constructed sentence some reader or listener might find a connotation that is personally based and often biased. As a result, we often guess meaning and intention, sometimes embarrassing ourselves in awkward first meetings, for example.
No big deal here. Just a tiny thought: Sign language, body language, winks and facial expressions, cultural gestures, and, yes, words add up to a general understanding of what we want from one another or what we want to give to one another. Let’s end with an example that led to a famous incident retold by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in his “The Charge of the Light Brigade.”
Six hundred seventy-three English cavalrymen of the Light Brigade charged through the “valley of death” during the battle of Balaclava (Ukrainian Балаклава; town for which the knitted ski mask is named) during the Crimean War. The charge became almost instantly famous (or infamous) thanks to the telegraph and to Tennyson. Two rival brothers-in-law, the Earl of Lucan and the Earl of Cardigan (for whom the sweater is named), had long been at odds. During the campaign against the Russians, both headed cavalry, with Cardigan in charge of the Light Brigade and Lucan designated his superior and the one in overall command of both the “heavies” and the lightly armed—and swift—light cavalry brigade. Superior to both was First Baron Raglan who issued the order to retake guns and the redoubt captured by the Russians on an adjacent highland.
Raglan’s position during the battle was from a highland west of the North and South Valleys. Raglan sent Captain Louis Nolan to tell Lucan to recapture the guns lost to the Russians, but Lucan could not, from his position, see any such lost weapons. So, when Nolan said he must attack, Lucan asked, “Attack what? What guns, sir?” Nolan waved imprecisely toward what was to become known as the “Valley of Death,” and not toward the redoubts on the adjacent hill where Raglan had meant for them to attack.
Lucan and Cardigan allowed their dislike of each other to influence their field decision. They also blindly followed an order they misunderstood. The Russians had men and artillery positioned along the sides and at the opposite end of the valley. Cardigan, never known as particularly bright, could see that the Russians had lined the sides and opposite end of the valley with artillery and riflemen, so he questioned the order. Lucan, however, told his brother-in-law, “We have no choice but to obey.”
Mentally map this. Put yourself in this position. You don’t have exact knowledge of the task; you see folly in the task as stated, and you have to obey an order with obvious dire consequences. The consequences of the reckless charge? One hundred ten cavalrymen were killed, 129 were wounded, and 32 were captured.
I know, this seems a stretch from the Journal of Physical Mathematics, but think about all that any brain has to do to communicate with another brain “precisely” to achieve a goal. Words have connotations. People have their own experiences. Levels of intelligence and learning vary.
The next time you get a bit huffy because you weren’t understood exactly, think of the burden on that other brain that has to handle not only your words, but also your demeanor, your actions, and its own complex issues and demeanor.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Someone had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs But to do and die:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Choose your words and gestures carefully.
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