A Christmas feast for all lovers of books, language and the written word

From Vanity Fair: this image featured in its collection of the best pictures from the magazine this year. It is not of some inaccessible Oxford college, or of the stolovia at Downton Abbey, or even the language laboratory at the Higher Technical School in Khimki.
     It is, wait for it: the main reading room of the central branch of the New York Public Library, on Fifth Avenue. It is open to you, me and Joe Citizen, which is what real culture is all about: complete freedom of inquiry, thought and expression.
     Who needs Santa when the North Pole is all around you, its contents catalogued on the Dewy Decimal system? (well, er.... hem!)

Note, as with all pictures in this blog, you can click on it to expand to full screen

“No podarki for Putin!”: two more words the upholder of the Constitution appears not to understand: “democracy” and “law”

Perhaps a more subtle riposte to the Magnistky Act would be for
President Putin to give Obama a ZiL for Christmas

A final note on yesterday’s presidential press conference, which was almost as long as one of Leonid Eyebrows Brezhnev’s speeches to the party faithful in the days when détente meant the Soviet President receiving another Cadillac from the American President.

     (On that subject, one wonders if “re-set” means the Russian President being humiliated by being forced to drive a BMW or Mercedes. As the Moscow Times reported yesterday, not even the pseudo-Cadillac recently offered by the ZiL factory seems to be good enough a man accustomed to world-standard luxury. How the mighty have fallen!)

     Getting back to the grubby present: the Moscow Times today reported the President’s response to the Isvestia question about authoritarianism slightly differently from the BBC (see yesterday’s post).

A reporter from Izvestia, widely regarded as one of the city’s most Kremlin-friendly dailies, accused Putin of building a totalitarian regime of personal power over the past 12 years. “Don’t you think that this hinders Russia’s development?” he asked.
     Putin rebuffed the question by saying his decision to heed the Constitution instead of changing it in 2008 and serving as prime minister for four years was ample proof that he was not authoritarian. “I consciously moved to a second post to guarantee the continuity of power,” he said, adding that “democracy is to observe the law.”

     Leaving aside the breathtaking, Nixonian arrogance of a President who is effectively saying he will obey the Constitution only as long as it suits him (see yesterday’s post), the statement that “democracy is to obey the law” needs to be noted. Even making every allowance for the shades of meaning lost in translation, it a complete travesty of language.

     Democracy is a system of government in which the people are ultimately in charge of those who rule them. Law is a system of rules by which society is supposed to operate and, in particular, to resolve conflicts without violence. The observance of rules has nothing whatsoever to do, either logically or factually, with the system of choosing rulers.

     If Mr Putin does not understand that law and democracy are completely different concepts, describing totally different things, which have no more in common than potatoes and wallpaper, then Russia is heading for an uncomfortable future. This is especially so as he appears to see no obligation to abide by the country’s Constitution, saying that he did so in 2008 not because he felt he had no choice, but because he personally took the “decision to”.

     In the modern world, a civilised country is more or less defined by saying that it is one in which the constitution is where law and democracy meet. Few countries are perfect in that (or any other) respect, but most people understand that definition and broadly accept it. If Russia is a bit of an outcast, as Putin is constantly saying it is, then perhaps part of the reason for that is the perception is that its President does not appear to understand the three key words of that definition as well as perhaps he might. 

     No wonder he has to buy his own automobiles. I can see just see Mr Obama sitting is his sweats, puffing and panting at the edge of the Executive Office Building basketball court, and saying to his Chief of Staff for the International Leader Christmas Present Procurement Program, who is sitting beside him in his shirt-sleeves, scribbling ostentatiously on a yellow legal pad: “No podarki for Putin.”

President Putin, Kamikaze pilots and the obligations of the logic of language

This man has accepted an obligation to die.
So what is the logic in the fact that he
appears to be wearing a life-jacket?
Does the act of tying a flag round your hat
destroy the capacity for logical thinking?
Many would say it does!

Further to the piece I wrote yesterday about a BBC report on President Putin’s marathon press conference on Thursday, the Moscow Times published several articles today about the same meeting. One of them reported the President discussing the Russian tiff (contemporary translation: “spat”; likely result: “bitch slap”—see post: 18 September) with the Republic of Georgia. The President seemed not to understand either the word “logic” or the word “obligation” since he used the two together in a way which offends the linguistic obligations of general logic:

The president also promised that Russia would lift the ban on importing Georgian wine and mineral water if doing so is required by WTO rules. The ban was introduced in 2006 amid a surge of political tension between Russia and Georgia.
     Since Georgia, which was blocking Russia’s accession to the trade organization, withdrew its objections, “we must be logical and fulfill our obligations,” he said in answer to a question from Georgian journalist David Akhvlediani about opening Russia’s market to the Georgian goods.

     You do not have to be “logical” to “fulfill obligations” since an obligation is a requirement to act imposed by private law (in this case, WTO law) or etiquette. However derived, an obligation generally implies reciprocity. It does not arise from the application of logic, which does not usually require reciprocity.
     If the house is on fire, it is logic that dictates that you go outside as soon as possible. You have no obligation to leave. Self-preservation is logical but it is not obligatory. Indeed sometimes the opposite is the case.
     An example of that might be the Japanese naval pilot in early 1945 who found himself in a Kamikaze squadron. He was under an “obligation” to crash his plane directly onto the flight-deck of an American aircraft carrier, thereby killing himself and destroying his plane, but without any realistic hope of imposing serious damage on a 30,000-ton armoured ship.
     There was no logic to such acts. They were done out of a sense of obligation which was so strong that it required the senseless sacrifice of a life and a plane. It would be like an artillery battery deciding to throw their gun at the enemy than to continue firing it.
     A civilised Western equivalent of the Kamikaze pilot might be the person who feels he has an obligation to finish all the food on his plate, since to waste food is to behave arrogantly in a world in which so many people are starving—or so his parents have told him since he was a boy. When the fire alarm sounds during dinner, he starts eating more quickly, but still not quickly enough. The flames are already licking the other end of the table and the flowers in the vase in the middle have wilted. But he still has three roast potatoes on his plate, two slices of lamb and a pile of peas, which always take time to eat politely.
     The Kamikaze diner is faced with a dilemma: does he behave logically and leave the house before the fire engulfs him, or does he respect the obligations of moral etiquette and express his respect for those in poverty by never getting up from the table while there is still food on his plate? Out of such situations are many profitable dramas and amusing comedies made.
     These Kamikaze examples may seem extreme, but they spring to mind because a friend of mine this morning paid me a handsome compliment on his blog on LiveJournal. He is a doctoral student of international naval policy and recent naval history. I feel an obligation to reciprocate. Anyone interested in the logic of maritime conflict and the obligations international naval co-operation should consult his blog (in Russian) at this link.

Bye, bye Russia, hello Putinia!

A boy who turned out to have more power
than Harry Potter

President Putin does not appear to understand what the word “constitution” means. Alternatively he enjoys a level of power which surpasses that of the tsars, and verges on the magical. What is your reading of the quote below?
     A story on the BBC website today about his response to the Magnitsky Act in the United States ended with these three paragraphs:

A questioner from the Izvestiya newspaper asked him about his “authoritarian style”.
     Mr Putin denied that his system was authoritarian, saying that if that were the case he would have made changes to the constitution. He pointed out that he had taken on the role of prime minister after two presidential terms.
     “I cannot call this system authoritarian, I cannot agree with this,” he said. “If I considered a totalitarian or authoritarian system preferable, I would simply have changed the constitution, it was easy enough to do.”

     So, the situation is that the only reason we do not have a “totalitarian or authoritarian system” in Russia is because Mr Putin does not want one. If he did, he would, he says, simply change the Constitution.
     But a constitution is a basic law which exists in order that major changes cannot be made to the general governmental system by politicians without wide consultation and general, informed consent. So Russia appears not to have a constitution in the accepted meaning of the term. Therefore the country is, if not totalitarian or authoritarian, at least autocratic. The basic law is not the Constitution but Mr Putin’s ideas of what is “preferable”. The will of the Tsar is, once again, the only law. Even Harry Potter has Lord Voldemort to contend with. But Lord Vladimir Vladimirovich has nobody, not even the Russian electorate, to worry about!
     Bye, bye Russia, hello Putinia!

Why won’t the English teach their scenario planners how to speak (or write)?

Sunter, Sunter on the veld!

Who’ll be getting all the geld?

(Note for Russians: “veld” is pronounced фелт and is the name for the type of countryside round Johannesburg. And “geld”, which is Afrikaans for “money”, is pronounced хелт)

I am writing a last piece about Mr Clem Sunter (see the two preceding posts) because his peculiar brand of linguistic voodoo is widely credited in otherwise intelligent business circles these days. But, from a language point of view, it seems to me to have a lot in common with astrology, which always gives the impression of saying something while usually saying nothing concrete, like the long-range weather forecast.

     If any reader can provide a better summary of this passage than my fair copy at the end, her or she will be invited to the next Glenfiddich tasting. Sunter writes about himself and his partner as follows (for the full document see this link), (the wording analysed is underlined):

In 2007, Clem Sunter’s new book, “Socrates and the Fox: A strategic dialogue”, co-authored with Chantel Ilbury, was released. By its very nature Socratic dialogue transforms the strategic conversation from the normal, dreary type of superficial analysis that companies go through nowadays to a full-blooded, back-to-basics debate. Clem and Chantell (sic) have developed a unique and independently crafted methodology which integrates scenario planning into the mainstream process of strategic planning and decision-making. Their version of the Socratic method has come about through rigorous application, re-evaluation and fine-tuning in the course of facilitating countless sessions with a diverse portfolio of companies throughout the world – from giant multinationals to family-run businesses.

Clem Sunter continues to be one of the country's favourite speakers ... his presentation style is both thought provoking and entertaining.

Taken in order in the text, here are some of the main points:

• How is a five-year old book “new”?
• What “strategic conversation” is being referred to? This sounds like something Tony Blair might have had scripted for him: empty but appealing. However, I want to know: what strategy; what conversation? There is no clue in the whole text.
• Why do companies “nowadays” go through a “normal, dreary type of superficial analysis”? Was their analysis better in the past? Why is superficial analysis normal and dreary? Or does Sunter want to say that normal analysis is dreary and superficial? That’s pretty insulting to analysts other than himself, because:
• The only alternative is said to be a “full-blooded, back-to-basics debate”.  This implies that if the analysis is not to be superficial it must be back-to-basics. Why? What is wrong with sophisticated analysis? That is what most of the developed world actually operates by. This sounds to me like saloon bar (or stoep talk) populism, offering easy-to-understand solutions to complex problems for those unsophisticated enough to pay money to hear them said with apparent authority.
• How does “Socratic dialogue” change superficial analysis into back-to-basics debate? Or just transform analysis into debate? Those are two different processes.
• And if Socrates is responsible for the change, why is Mr Sunter claiming credit? Because he applied Socrates? Is he the first to have done so (in 2,500 years)?
• If a method is unique then it must have been crafted independently because anything repeatable is not unique. (see post 5 May)
• Sunter has developed a method rather than a “methodology”, as he claims. That word means “the study of method”, rather as “hydrology” is the study of water or “anthropology” the study of, as it were, the “anthropos”. The word methodology is longer than method and sounds more learned to the unlearned, which is presumably why it is so often misused in this way.
• And does anyone know what is really meant by integrating “scenario planning into the mainstream process of strategic planning”? And what is non-mainstream strategic planning?
• “Has come about” should have been “has been developed” since it was a deliberate not an accidental process (one assumes, as Sunter is claiming credit for it).
• And “rigorous application, re-evaluation and fine-tuning” should not all be applied together in this way. If you apply an approach, you are doing something completely different from, indeed arguably the opposite of, re-evaluating and fine-tuning it, which implies change rather than  application which implies no change.
• Also, the way this sentence is written it could be read as giving the impression that Sunter and Ilbury think they have  been fine-tuning Socrates. I am sure the great Athenian would be chuffed to know that these two Jo’burgers have taken his thought forward in this unexpected way, but I am not sure if that is what the two “scenario planners” really intended to say.
• Finally, in the last paragraph, it is illuminating that Sunter claims to have a “thought-provoking” “style”. A style can be entertaining, but thought-provoking? It is content that normally provokes thought, not style.

Here is my version of Mr Sunter’s piece:

In 2007, Clem Sunter and Chantel Ilbury published, “Socrates and the Fox: A Strategic Dialogue”. In their book they argue that the Socratic method can be applied to contemporary commercial analysis to make it more profound by grounding it in first principles. Since then, they have developed and refined their particular approach in the course of numerous strategic planning sessions in a wide range of companies, from giant multinationals to family-run businesses.

Clem Sunter continues to be one of the country’s favourite speakers as he combines thought-provoking content with an entertaining style.

I think that “covers all the bases”, as Mr Sunter might put it, and is clearer. It is certainly a lot shorter. Can any reader do better? 

Clem Sunter, scenario planner, shows Russians how NOT to write English

Part of the work I do here in Moscow is teaching a couple of small, select groups of Russians how to write English. I say repeatedly that speaking is one thing; writing quite another. Speaking English with your own accent and idiosyncratic usage is rarely a problem as far as communication goes, and is often positively attractive. Who would have wished to “correct” the speech of Françoise Hardy or Agnetha Fälskog? But writing poor English cold on the page, with no personal warmth radiating across the table or bed, can be damaging. Hence the importance of style on paper.
     There are a few basic rules which I have noticed make a vast difference to the quality of written English coming from non-native speakers. I won’t repeat them all here, but short sentences is probably the most important one, and it is closely followed by the avoidance of clichés and idiomatic expressions. You need a lot of cultural background to be sure you are using informal language correctly. It is much better to write without colourful effects than to use them inappropriately. At best that can be misleading; at worst it makes you a laughing stock.
     And laughing is what many of the Russians I teach have done when I have drawn their attention to the passage highlighted in the post before this, “Crystal Balls and Chandeliers”. That prompted me to investigate further. I discovered that the author was a senior executive in Anglo-American, a huge mining company based, despite its name, in South Africa. I had previously assumed that he was a modest private citizen who circulated forecasts quietly to friends, and whose inept use of English, though educative on the perils of business-world clichés misapplied, warranted anonymity. So I did not mention his name.

Clem Sunter: "scenario planner"

     But now I see that the man is a serious self-publicist. He has written fourteen books, has an immense website devoted to his thinking about life and lucre, and is a serial columnist on a South African news site. He wants to be noticed. So let me help him: his name is Clem Sunter.
     But I wonder if he really is so wise in wanting to publicise his writing. He says somewhere in his massive output that he is “one of the country’s favourite speakers” and that “his presentation style is both thought-provoking and entertaining.” That may well be true. Clichés of the sort he specialises in have a habit of blending into one another over the course of a “presentation”, especially if after lunch or dinner, losing all definition and becoming little more than mood music. In print, however, they reveal a frightening absence of intellectual precision for one who claims to have run an important company.
     Mr Sunter’s entire output seems to be written in the sort of language that I quoted in the previous post, and it is worrying that a person who appears to be taken seriously by large sections of the South African business community cannot write clearly. I believe that clarity of thought leads to clarity of language (or should do in people who have written fourteen books) and that chaotic language is usually in indicator of unresolved thought.
     Einstein did not change the world by writing: “The Positive Energy Scenario is at a Constant Tipping Point with a Diverse Portfolio of Mainstream Mass and the Speed with which a Perfect Storm Scenario of Light can Travel from any given Chandelier to the Sand on the Ballroom Floor beneath it when Incremented by its own Value.” If he had, Max Plank and the boys would not have been able to take things much further and we would still be living in a world of high explosives, mustard gas and continual super-power conflict.
     The fog gets even thicker when Citizen Sunter describes himself as a “scenario planner”. This in itself is misleading as he is really a “forecaster”—sort of. Perhaps that sounds too ordinary, or too clear for comfort since it might imply measurable outcomes which his words could one day be tested against. Scenarios are possibilities, and that implies uncertainty, especially when several competing ones are present. But you cannot plan uncertainty. Scenario planning is an oxymoron.
     I am going to offer a free invitation to the next Glenfiddich whisky tasting to the clearest re-write of the following quotes from Mr Sunter’s website. Each one includes the word “scenario”:

“…much of the future is beyond your control and uncertain. The only way to handle it is to play different scenarios, examine their probability and impact and look at the options to seize the opportunities offered in each scenario and counter the threats.”

“Options can be divided broadly into two categories: adapting your own strategies and tactics as regards your own future in light of the changing odds of the scenario; or rolling up your sleeves and taking action—however big or small it may be—to reduce the odds of the scenario itself.”

“Recently, I had a discussion with a group from MIT in the US who tried to convince me that you can mathematically link the raising of flags on our scenarios to their probabilities.”

     Those sentences are written here exactly as in the website. If you doubt that, feel free to check this link: www.mindofafox.com/latest-scenarios.php You will see many similar examples of this sort of stream-of-consciousness prose.
     In the next, and final, post on this subject, I will analyse another passage of Mr Sunter’s with a view to making some positive suggestions about how he might improve his style on paper. In the meantime, my Russian students, and many others too, can congratulate themselves on their superior ability to write the language of Shakespeare, Wodehouse and Chandler when compared with a native-speaking product of Oxford University (and Winchester College!).

Crystal Balls and Chandeliers

The picture above is part of  a strange message that I was recently sent containing rating agency-style predictions for the future for the South African economy. It was written by a soi disant pundit who runs a crystal-ball-gazing opration at an address in, of all places, Boksburg, of which it might be said that, in terms of Standard and Poor, it is more Poor than Standard.
     Though the Boksburg Seer’s analysis is not worth discussing, his grammar is, or to be more precise his extravagant mangling of metaphors. In particular, taking the highlighted sentences in turn:

• How can a change of mood cause wheels to fall off? Surely wheels are attached by wheel-nuts or something similar? “Moods”, even “ugly moods”, are non-mechanical.
• Why does one need “scenarios” in order to detect trembling in chandeliers? Surely it is eyesight that is required?
• Who is “programmed” to “stick [their] heads in the sand”? I don’t feel that way. Do the readers of this analysis think of themselves like that?
• How can you “go on enjoying the party” when you have your head buried in sand? Humans need to kneel down, with bottoms in the air, in order to get their heads below ground level. How can you enjoy a party in that uncomfortable posture? And even if you managed that, how could you eat and drink, or speak to other guests, if your mouth was liable to fill with sand every time you opened it? And since sand is not translucent, how would you know when “the lights go out”?
• A separate point is that if the party is being held in the ballroom with the chandeliers, where is the sand likely to be? You need a smooth and preferably slightly springy floor to dance on. Sand has neither quality. 
• Finally, the statement that “the purpose of flags is to take emotion out of our judgement” is a mixed metaphor too far. I simply do not understand what the author might have been trying to say. In any event, you cannot pass emotional “judgments”. You can have emotional “responses” but a judgement is, by definition, to some extent rational—but perhaps not so in Boksburg.

Solzhenitsyn re-visited

In the light of the tremendous response (more than any post that I can remember) to my reminder of the contrary view of Solzhenitsyn (see previous post), I thought I might print extracts from some of the more interesting mails I received. It might illuminate in a small way how opinion is moving on this subject. Other views are published in the Comments section underneath that post.

Electra Clifton Smith, from Long Island and now Leith, wrote: “I am not familiar with Auberon Waugh, only Evelyn. My feelings about the piece (fair or not?): It told me a great deal more about Solzhenitsyn than the flowery Mr Waugh. Solzhenitsyn, was just trying to say to man, ‘There is serious SHIT going on on this planet. STOP SMILING and FAFFING ABOUT!!! Start DOING SOMETHING!!!’ I find I say the same thing to people all the time. They look at me with the bland eyes of sheep chewing some remnant of cud at the back of their toothless gobs. Or I turn on the telly and see everybody shopping or these fat matrons cooking up a storm with some celebrity chef—planning a dinner party—as if everything is just hunky dory and they can hang around stuffing their fat gobs and SOMEHOW, the PLANET is not on FIRE!! I guess they won't know it, until it comes to their neighbourhood and cooks them up!!!!! (Sometimes I just beg for an asteroid.)”

A well-known anti-Putin journalist wrote: “Entertaining nonsense.”

My brother wrote: “Auberon Waugh uses ‘each other’ (which ought to be reserved for an interaction between two people) instead of ‘one another’ (interactions amongst more than two), which is the same distinction as between ‘between’ and ‘amongst’ (themselves).”

An old friend, and man of the world, wrote: “I think Waugh is quite right. Solzhenitsyn was not the only guy stuck in a Gulag. Though he can be forgiven for his own lugubriousness, he should not inflict it on others. We love the innocent laughter of children happily oblivious to the horrors of the adult world. But being victimised doesn't make you morally superior. Certainly in the UK in my experience, most of those bullied that I knew of were improved by a bit of bog-washing, even if it is true that in cases where no physical brutality was applied perhaps no benefit was gained.”

Another friend, who had long taken a serious interest in Russia, wrote: “I tried to re-read Solzhenitsyn a year ago, having lapped him up in my 20s. I started with The First Circle and got to page 40. Then I tried The Red Wheel and gave up at a similar point. I was able to read Ivan D. with pleasure. And I enjoy (is that the right word?) dipping into the Gulag Archipelago. Auberon Waugh was correct about Solzhenitsyn's return, but his Great Russian chauvinism was out of favour back then (although Vladimir Putin might enjoy it now) and his writing powers had certainly withered away in New England. Perhaps the Gulag Archipelago, which was a collaborative effort, is his monument.  Shalamov read Ivan D and commented: ‘That camp would have seemed like paradise to me...’  Kolyma Tales is still readable.”

The Director of Poetry Ireland wrote: “Hilarious! Your message came in the other day, and almost immediately I got a call from an old friend, Paddy Dillon, who has just relocated to Saragossa in Spain, and who happens to be a nephew of Bron (as Auberon used to be known). Coincidences like that are always happening in this office! Anyhow he was amused.”

And finally, readers might be interested to check out a relevant blog entry from a friend in the Scottish borders who runs a sort of unofficial, informal Russian cultural centre, in Moffatt. 

Alexander Solzhenitsyn: a contrary opinion

On the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s classic, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, when even the BBC is remembering the event, I think it might be appropriate to remind readers of one of the most important rules of language etiquette—indeed all etiquette—which is to respect the freedom of civilised people to express honestly held opinions without fear that they might be beaten senseless with metal bars, sent to jail for a couple of years, or cut in Bond Street or on the Tverskaya.

     In that spirit I would like to reproduce a diary entry about Solzhenitsyn from Auberon Waugh (son of Evelyn Waugh, the author of Brideshead Revisited etc.) which was published in Private Eye, the English satirical magazine, thirty years ago. I think it is self-explanatory: 

     With hindsight, dear reader, do you think that is (or was) fair?

Xi Loves You, Yah, Yah, Yah

Xi shows his hand, the one that will now be on the levers of power and the books of wisdom

     The problem with nineteenth century economic superstitions like socialism and communism was that they were supposed to bring “happiness”, but never seemed quite able to manage it over the long haul. Perhaps that is why everyone but Xi is looking so glum in the picture above. Everyone but the Вожд has to pretend to read waffle of the sort that is quoted in the passage below.
     It was written by a Russian academic in Soviet times, and published in the journal Canadian Slavic Studies (1971, p. 347). The fact that the writer was a dissident of sorts makes no difference. The spiritual poison affects anyone who takes an interest, whether positive or negative, in the socialist way of thinking. Remember that Tony Benn, Britain's only world-standard lefty, ended up drinking so much tea that he started hallucinating and had to be forced by his doctors to go around in slippers.
     If any reader can tell me what the paragraph below means, they will win an invite to the first Chinese whisky tasting ELERussians organises in the Year of the Haggis:

“The moral pathos of socialism is focused on the idea of distributive justice and is exhausted by it. This morality too has its roots in the mechanistic, rationalistic theory of happiness, in the conviction that on the whole there is no need to create the conditions of happiness, since they can simply be seized or grabbed from those who illicitly usurped them for their own benefit. The socialist faith is not the source of this exaggerated idolatry of the principle of distribution. On the contrary, it is supported by it like a sociological fruit borne by the metaphysical tree of mechanistic ethics.”

     Have you just lost the will to live? I have, or at least to live without a wee dram. Pass me the Glenfiddich, if you don't mind, and remember that the first rule of good writing is to have something interesting to say.