COLUMN: Misinterpretation of words

From Nathan Smith's, "Just Skip to the Crossword," Fall '97 From Nathan Smith's, "Just Skip to the Crossword," Fall '97 It is with tremendous hesitation that I sit down to write. The anxiety plaguing me has nothing to do with my abilities, the possibility of writer's block, or even the fact that some dorky mugshot will be displayed for all to see. Take for example University President Judith Rodin's column on diversity at Penn (DP, 1/13/97). I applaud the alacrity with which she speaks of Penn's initiatives towards a multicultural community. However, as I read one passage, it set off alarms in my head. "Diversity on campus will only achieve its full educational potential when it leads to intensified debate, engagement, and encounters across the boundaries of our difference. Ideally, such encounters should be occurring with greater frequency, not less, as the excellence and diversity of our faculty and student body continue to increase." The various interpretations of this passage appeared to me in a flash. On one hand, this statement may imply she supports the many discussion forums and events conducted by organizations and facilities like Programs for Awareness in Cultural Education and the Greenfield Intercultural Center. These events provide an opportunity for everyone to enjoy and learn from these intercultural encounters in a most beneficial and non-threatening manner. On the other hand, those who have been outspoken about affecting randomized housing and the dismantling of W.E.B. DuBois College House will certainly believe Rodin has aligned herself with them. I anticipate seeing the quote above excerpted in future columns on DuBois. This interpretation suggests she wishes to see the Penn community denied an invaluable and unique educational resource from which all students might profit. Such a statement from our president would throw the entire community into an uproar. The fact is Rodin's statement doesn't really say either of these things. The ambiguity of her wording safely skirts the issue of intercultural interaction without actually taking any sort of stance on the "hot" issues. This should shock no one. The skill which always accompanies political power is the ability to speak voluminously without really saying anything. I certainly don't know what that passage means with regards to housing and multicultural programs. Columnists, however, are not politicians and often seek to achieve the opposite in their writing. I myself have some specific things to say, some strong political opinions which I'd like to express. I do so much work facilitating -- requiring me to put my ideas aside and focus on the dynamics of communication between the parties present at my workshops -- I jump at the chance to put forth my own thoughts. The problem is even when I try to express my thoughts clearly and forcefully, ambiguity of meaning inevitably arises. What does it matter how carefully I word the columns which will follow this innocuous first piece? People might not even reach the end of my columns before they begin e-mailing The Daily Pennsylvanian with virulent attacks on the stance they think I have taken. Likewise, those who have their own perspectives and agendas will heartily agree with what they think I mean, though their interpretation may have nothing to do with the message I attempt to impart. It is partly the fault of the medium of expression. These lifeless strokes of ink can never transcend the futility of their purpose. Never can they approximate the power of the spoken word, of tonality, rhythm, accentuation and volume. Furthermore, how could newsprint ever approach the power of body language? In conversation, it often seems the heart and soul of the message flashes from within the eyes, across the face, in the position of the body -- in all those subtle cues forever contained in the fleeting moment. Yet these additional modes of communication -- if they were somehow accessible -- wouldn't necessarily allow for perfect understanding. Even if I were somehow able to simultaneously converse with every reader, there would be no guarantees. A simple wink may appear like a meaningless facial tick to one, a flirtatious hint to another, and a signal that I don't really mean what I'm saying to yet another. It sounds hopeless doesn't it? However mightier the pen is than the sword, at least the latter guarantees communication -- there can be no mistaking a blade in the belly. So why write or talk at all? Why bother trying with language, buried as it is under layers of connotation, idiom, history and ideology (all aspects which vary drastically across the smallest geographical regions, literally from one brain to the next?) The answer is, "Don't be silly." We cannot emancipate ourselves from language. Unless you have ESP like Dionne Warwick, you're stuck with this rickety, rusty tool for expression. And if you happen to be a writer like myself, you've even fallen in love with it and all of its shortcomings. You can't stop yourself from putting pen to paper, either for the pure joy of it or for the agony of holding thoughts in your head without at least attempting their expression. So there you have the explanation of why I must write and run the risk of misunderstanding, even knowing the monumental communicative blockade between you and me.