Table of contents
The brilliance of ordinary language
Dear Reader,
A little fun fact... Before I conceived the idea to write a Substack, my initial idea was actually to write one of those 24 lessons in 24 years-type blog posts. I had even started to write them, but while I was doing so, I realised there were so much more to those lessons. They were merely deducible consequences from a specific lens through which I had come to see the world. So I thought — why not write about how I see the world instead? Even as a reader, I am less interested in what one ought to do, more so in how one ought to think, from which all else logically and seamlessly flows, like streams branching out from an ocean.
Now, that gripped me. My initial idea to write 24 lessons in 24 years was not at all captivating, because it evoked a particular mode of writing that did not compel me to write. Namely, they tend to be variations of those common aphorisms, such as “choose your friends wisely”, or “prioritise the important things”, or “do more than what is expected”. But I have long felt a certain aversion towards what I call the common dictionary, which to me, signifies borrowed thinking. I prefer to go one level deeper and try to stumble upon an inkling of the wisdom behind these common aphorisms, through reason and life experience. I may be getting ahead of myself when I speak of such things as thinking originally, for who thinks originally? But as far as I can consciously, these axioms are to me, reality from first principles. They are my deepest conceivable markers of thought. I am at my depths when I write these things! I would much rather dig into the depths and find there lies nothing of real value, than scratch the surface where so many have already gone before.
The brilliance of ordinary language
Stump Speaking (1853–54) by George Caleb Bingham (Source)
I have long maintained a fancy for writing. In my high school years, I recall deciding to write essays on random subjects, unprompted, and then bugging my brother to read them and give his feedback. I can no longer recall my frame of mind in doing so, but somehow, it always just felt easy for me to sit and write. I suppose it has to do with the pleasure one gets from creating. Writing presents itself to me as an artistic endeavour. What is the difference between creating a piece of art and writing an essay? Both are coherent stories, built up from little constructs. Only one has more figures to its form but is left vague and up for interpretation, while the other has intelligible meaning built into each little construct. But as much as writing was an exercise in artistic expression growing up, it has now also evolved to be an exercise in original thought.
I never stopped reading and writing, and nowadays I have come to observe certain patterns even in my daily interactions. Most prominently, I have come to hold original thinkers in deep regard. What is so special about an original thinker? Popular narratives are potent, and the language one employs is a test of whether one has let those narratives do the thinking for him or he has done his own due thinking. He who claims to truly know something should be able to articulate it in its simplest form, and this I think is also how good writing arises. The inability to articulate something with simplicity indicates borrowed thinking or an incomplete understanding — which I seriously doubt one should be aiming to reshape others or the world on the basis of.
To me, the hallmark of an original thinker is ordinary language. Those who speak in ordinary terms also think in ordinary terms — that is, they take on the burden of thinking by default as opposed to recycling networks of words as perpetuated through those popular narratives. I tend to measure it based on the consistency of terms applied across various, unconnected concepts. This has nothing to do with the articulator's range of vocabulary, rather everything to do with the effort the articulator generally puts in before acting as if he truly knows something. The burden of thought is prerequisite to the ability to articulate ordinarily. How does one intelligently reduce something that is not at first understood? Now, I do not think I can write an essay on 'ordinary language' without quoting the physicist Feynman, who was in my eyes one of its greatest proponents. "If you can't explain something to a six-year-old, you really don't understand it yourself" (as most commonly attributed to him).
We have a natural tendency to speak in the manner of what we listen to or consume. Thus with the onslaught of popular narratives, many people become mere regurgitators of all-too-familiar ideas, from the social justice warrior to the religious fanatic to the conspiracy theorist. An ideologue comes into being once fallen too far down the echo chamber of a potent narrative. One is pulled into the echo chamber once properly gripped by an idea, which compels its captivated adherent to judge the whole on the basis of the part made potent, and where other parts that disagree with it is automatically and vehemently dismissed. Jung's aphorism comes to mind: "People don't have ideas. Ideas have people.” The perils of adhering to a common language lie especially in cases where the narrative offers a framing, by way of a very specific set of words, through which it can be elevated to maximum potency, while all other reasonable parts can be demonised and consequently dismissed. The more strongly a narrative prescribes right and wrong ways to think, the more it inhibits the tendency to think in ordinary terms. Orwellian Newspeak now comes to mind.
Certain unique networks of words are common to certain echo chambers, and I am referring more so to the use of basic terms rather than esoteric concepts. Let me give some uncontroversial examples. I was born and raised a Christian, and from my own experience, we have common words in Christian contexts. Some words that come to mind: "outpouring" (relating to a spiritual experience), "seasons" (in the sense of specific periods of life) and “draw” (in the sense of drawing one closer). A pressing thought I get is, how very rarely does one use such words outside of this echo chamber! I mean this not as a critique, merely an observation. In general, I think it is better to aim to step outside of a common dictionary. I believe it to be a necessity, in order that one might think.
A tendency to ordinary language requires a perpetual endeavour to create and recreate, and so is nothing less than an art. The art of the unorthodox network of words! I am no poet, but it is hard to think poetry does not arise from a similar endeavour. As with the creation of anything new, one runs the risk of creating something that lacks any flair or value, or perhaps even comes across as heretical or blasphemous. But as with any skill, the ability and tendency to do so with confidence increases over time, and its upside is infinite. Lyricists already reckon with this all the time, but perhaps we should all concern ourselves with it. Why see the world in the same light and colour as everyone else, when you can paint it well and truly your own? Can’t every sentence uttered and the thoughts that precede it be a piece of art, an honest and deep emanation of the self? Why borrow your voice from others? This is not even so optional as that. A unique voice is more than a figure of artistic expression, for it demands effortful thought, which is what leads to right framing. As Feynman kept written at the top of his blackboard when he died in 1988: "What I cannot create, I do not understand."
Richard Feynman’s blackboard at the time of his death (Source)
I have personally met with many borrowed voices. It is easy to get a feel for them. As soon as you observe hints of a popular opinion, you can predict most of the things they are about to say next, as well as answers to whatever questions you are about to ask. They all fit together like one coherent jigsaw puzzle. A familiar one! Nothing surprises you. The most obvious example is the conspiracist, but needless to say, this is not unique to one far-end of the political spectrum. Exclusionary narratives and the consequent religious orthodoxies come in all shapes and sizes. Occasionally I am pleasantly surprised when one of them articulates something that does not fit in the preconceived image, but more often than not, the first impression maintains. If the goal is to truly learn something, I have found it a better spend of time to speak to one who takes absolutely no interest in those matters, for they offer far more original thought, and therefore teach more than regurgitators.
In some ways, I think intellectual coherence is an indicator of orthodoxy. Those who take on the burden of thinking never truly find coherence. They may however come to terms with the lack of it, perhaps in the acknowledgement that there are persistent unknowns, and that bad framing or a wrong level of analysis, may be at play. It seems that ordinary language should carry also the element of surprise and unfamiliarity, as in poetry and good writing in general, which is why they tend to be so engaging.
In 1945, Scott F. Fitzgerald famously wrote in The Crack-Up: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function." I think the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability, more so the habit, to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the same vocabulary.
PS for all my essays, if you have any thoughts on my framing of things — whether you have experienced something similar, differently or found another framing to be more effective, I’d love for you to leave a comment. It does not have to be polished. Raw and unfiltered thoughts are appreciated. It is the only way one can learn!
Till next time,
Euwyn
Interesting as I start to give this more thought. Makes you more aware of how certain gripping narratives change the way we view things, myself also being raised in a Christian family with South African culture. Makes me wonder how 'original' one can truly be considered that even though going deeper is less popular, it is still a way of thinking shared among others.