'In fairness' and other Atrocities
by Ranhilio Aquino
The late, revered Justice Isagani Cruz was an acknowledged “constitutionalist”—more grammatically: “an expert in constitutional law”. But he was also a consummate man of letters and his ponencias remain examples of not only well-written, but also of almost-lyrical prose! Many of his columns were given to pointing out common errors. He received flak for what the dull thought to be nit-picking. But he was right about castigating those who persecuted others with their grammatical atrocities. No one has any right adding to the quantum of ugliness in the world. I have lapses many times, but I am eager to correct them when they are pointed out to me by those who have the right to do so. For now, I shall take on the role of critic in respect to what alarm me as mistakes on the way to “institutionalization”, because espoused by those highly emulated. Grammar is not really about observing rules formulated by cantankerous academics determined to make life miserable for others. It is about being understood, about communicating efficiently.
by Ranhilio Aquino
The late, revered Justice Isagani Cruz was an acknowledged “constitutionalist”—more grammatically: “an expert in constitutional law”. But he was also a consummate man of letters and his ponencias remain examples of not only well-written, but also of almost-lyrical prose! Many of his columns were given to pointing out common errors. He received flak for what the dull thought to be nit-picking. But he was right about castigating those who persecuted others with their grammatical atrocities. No one has any right adding to the quantum of ugliness in the world. I have lapses many times, but I am eager to correct them when they are pointed out to me by those who have the right to do so. For now, I shall take on the role of critic in respect to what alarm me as mistakes on the way to “institutionalization”, because espoused by those highly emulated. Grammar is not really about observing rules formulated by cantankerous academics determined to make life miserable for others. It is about being understood, about communicating efficiently.
“In fairness”—that dangling phrase, beloved to actors and actresses, TV stars and matinee idols who flunked the subject “Introduction to the Alphabet” is on almost every youngster’s list of favorite phrases. The phrase is properly used in the following manner: “In fairness to this cranky teacher, it has to be acknowledged that she had a passion for teaching.” But “in fairness”, without any more following it — what is that supposed to be? In fairness to what? In fairness to whom? It is very like retired Justice Serafin Cuevas curtly asking: “Preliminary to what?” when, in response to his objection to an improper question during the impeachment trial, prosecutors obviously inferior to him in trial technique would lamely defend their impropriety by the mantra: “Preliminary, Your Honor.” “In fairness”—that sounds benevolent, but, by itself, without mention of that about which one is fair, or the person to whom one is fair, is just so unfair to correct speech.
“Quite” has been around for some time now, but not everyone is quite sure about how it ought to be used. Many times, it is used when one wants to suggest “nearly”, “not completely”. So, it will be heard from someone who was entranced by some scenes from a movie but bored by others that it was “quite good” — translated: “somehow good”, “nearly good”. But “quite” really means “completely”, “totally”. So when a pianist plays a challenging piece with precision, articulation, competence and musicianship, the music critic jumps to his feet in applause and cries out: “Quite good”! And when your friend assures you that he is quite sure that your mother is coming to town aboard the next flight, he is not guessing. He is sure she is arriving! And when it is said of someone who has said more than he really understands “That was quite a mouthful” — one is not suggesting that he has said a few words. Rather he is being asked to keep his mouth shut because basic rules of decorum bid us keep our mouths shut when they are full!
Then, there is the matter of how one writes and flatters oneself. When signing pleadings, many lawyers first print their names thus: “Atty. Mahal Ang Bayad”, over which they then scribble their signatures. But one should never call oneself “Atty.” or “Dr.”. A physician who writes a medical certificate should not, in the name of all that is holy and sane, sign as “Dr. Patay Lahat”. The lawyer prints his name and signs simply: “Mahal Ang Bayad” and under his name, he may print “Attorney-at-Law”, to remind all and sundry of his importance, even if this country is now so populated with lawyers that every stone thrown skywards is sure to land on one lawyer or the other! The physician signs: “Patay Lahat”, and if he is not too sure that everyone believes he is a physician, he may attach “M.D.” after his name. This is true of those who have completed doctorate degrees. Some, obviously overwhelmed by the lofty academic status they supposedly enjoy because of some high-sounding academic title, will go so far as to cause their names to be printed thus: “Dr. Sobrang Yabang, Ph.D.”. That would be appropriate to print on a hot-air balloon that one intends to explode in mid-air but nobody who has completed an honest-to-goodness doctorate degree should ever make a fool of himself in this manner. You print your name, and, if you want to flaunt the degree you earned to those foolish enough to be awed by it, you put “Ph.D., D.P.A., Ed.D.” or whatever title it is that some university or the other may, justly or unjustly, have conferred on you. The same rule applies to priests and ecclesiastics. Witness how Pope Francis signed his first encyclical: “Franciscus”. A bishop should never sign a letter: “Bishop Parang Banal.” He simply signs “Parang Banal”, and, by tradition, affixes a cross “+” before his name — not to suggest that he is on the road to the hereafter, but as a sign, so it is thought, of his desire to bestow his blessing on those who care for it! A priest is addressed “Fr. Biro Lang”, but he signs, using his name, without any title — “Fr.”, or, more intriguingly ‘P’ either for ‘padre’ or ‘papa’ — before it!
“Dangling over the front door to our house, my father lopped off the tree-branch that had been a nuisance for so long.” Many college students will not recognize what the error is—that it conjures the ghastly image of a beloved father dangling over the front door to the house! That is because we have developed an execrable tolerance for phrases and clauses that dangle in the wrong places and that are hopelessly skewed. And the solution is not what many nitwits have suggested: Forget English and keep to Tagalog, because Tagalog—no matter how you dress it up—Pilipino, Filipino, Philippino, or variants thereof—is not and cannot be a substitute for the language that, like it or not, the whole world speaks and writes in—English, which need not be the Queen’s English, but English as Nick Joaquin, Jose Garcia Villa, Ariston Estrada, Carlos Romulo, Ruben Balane, Isagani Cruz and other very Filipino Filipinos have used it!
“Quite” has been around for some time now, but not everyone is quite sure about how it ought to be used. Many times, it is used when one wants to suggest “nearly”, “not completely”. So, it will be heard from someone who was entranced by some scenes from a movie but bored by others that it was “quite good” — translated: “somehow good”, “nearly good”. But “quite” really means “completely”, “totally”. So when a pianist plays a challenging piece with precision, articulation, competence and musicianship, the music critic jumps to his feet in applause and cries out: “Quite good”! And when your friend assures you that he is quite sure that your mother is coming to town aboard the next flight, he is not guessing. He is sure she is arriving! And when it is said of someone who has said more than he really understands “That was quite a mouthful” — one is not suggesting that he has said a few words. Rather he is being asked to keep his mouth shut because basic rules of decorum bid us keep our mouths shut when they are full!
Then, there is the matter of how one writes and flatters oneself. When signing pleadings, many lawyers first print their names thus: “Atty. Mahal Ang Bayad”, over which they then scribble their signatures. But one should never call oneself “Atty.” or “Dr.”. A physician who writes a medical certificate should not, in the name of all that is holy and sane, sign as “Dr. Patay Lahat”. The lawyer prints his name and signs simply: “Mahal Ang Bayad” and under his name, he may print “Attorney-at-Law”, to remind all and sundry of his importance, even if this country is now so populated with lawyers that every stone thrown skywards is sure to land on one lawyer or the other! The physician signs: “Patay Lahat”, and if he is not too sure that everyone believes he is a physician, he may attach “M.D.” after his name. This is true of those who have completed doctorate degrees. Some, obviously overwhelmed by the lofty academic status they supposedly enjoy because of some high-sounding academic title, will go so far as to cause their names to be printed thus: “Dr. Sobrang Yabang, Ph.D.”. That would be appropriate to print on a hot-air balloon that one intends to explode in mid-air but nobody who has completed an honest-to-goodness doctorate degree should ever make a fool of himself in this manner. You print your name, and, if you want to flaunt the degree you earned to those foolish enough to be awed by it, you put “Ph.D., D.P.A., Ed.D.” or whatever title it is that some university or the other may, justly or unjustly, have conferred on you. The same rule applies to priests and ecclesiastics. Witness how Pope Francis signed his first encyclical: “Franciscus”. A bishop should never sign a letter: “Bishop Parang Banal.” He simply signs “Parang Banal”, and, by tradition, affixes a cross “+” before his name — not to suggest that he is on the road to the hereafter, but as a sign, so it is thought, of his desire to bestow his blessing on those who care for it! A priest is addressed “Fr. Biro Lang”, but he signs, using his name, without any title — “Fr.”, or, more intriguingly ‘P’ either for ‘padre’ or ‘papa’ — before it!
“Dangling over the front door to our house, my father lopped off the tree-branch that had been a nuisance for so long.” Many college students will not recognize what the error is—that it conjures the ghastly image of a beloved father dangling over the front door to the house! That is because we have developed an execrable tolerance for phrases and clauses that dangle in the wrong places and that are hopelessly skewed. And the solution is not what many nitwits have suggested: Forget English and keep to Tagalog, because Tagalog—no matter how you dress it up—Pilipino, Filipino, Philippino, or variants thereof—is not and cannot be a substitute for the language that, like it or not, the whole world speaks and writes in—English, which need not be the Queen’s English, but English as Nick Joaquin, Jose Garcia Villa, Ariston Estrada, Carlos Romulo, Ruben Balane, Isagani Cruz and other very Filipino Filipinos have used it!