Jul 12 2010
A Hit, a Very Palpable Hit: Academic Jargon
Anyone who’s spent time around academia has had a close encounter of the unpleasant kind with academic jargon. To be sure, all fields have some necessary technical vocabulary required to allow for precise expression of meaning. Even history, which can generally use standard English, has some terms of art. “Historicism,” for example, has a clear and specific meaning which is handy to have at our disposal. One of my objections to casually throwing around “socialist” and “fascist” as political abuse is that I’d prefer to have those terms reserved for their relatively clear and distinct historical referents.
But most of us can agree that a lot of academic jargon simply serves the purpose of claiming erudition and membership in the club of Great Thinkers. I just read (hat tip to Ralph Luker at Cliopatria) a marvelous takedown of unnecessary jargon in Simon Blackburn’s review of John Searle’s Making the Social World:
“Sometimes the mountains labor and bring forth something not much larger than a mouse. Here is a salient example. Suppose we enter on a joint enterprise. Together we are to shift a rock, carry a coffin, or row a boat. I cannot perform the task solely by myself, and neither can you. In Searle’s pleasantly old-fashioned example we set about getting a manual-shift car with a flat battery to start, by means of my pushing and you letting in the clutch at the right moment. I will only push if I expect you to let in the clutch–and if you do not let in the clutch, I will stop pushing and be annoyed at the waste of effort. Here is Searle’s account of this situation, in what he bills as his canonical notation for representing the structure of intentionality:
a collective B by means of singular A (this ia causes: A car moves, causes: B engine starts). In English this is to be read as: I have a collective intention-in-action B, in which I do my part by performing my singular act A, and the content of the intention is that, in that context, this intention-in-action causes it to be the case, as A, that the car moves which, in that context, causes it to be the case that B, the engine starts. Notice furthermore that the free variables “B” and “A” are bound inside the bracket by the verb phrases “car moves” and “engine starts,” that follow the respective letters.
It may be that Searle is right that this paraphrases the original. He may even be right that the sentence said to be in English is indeed so, although I must say that it is a rather strange and unfamiliar dialect of English. But how, exactly, are we to understand this dialect? Putting my hand on my heart I should say that for all my gray hairs and many years’ experience of fearsome bushwhacking through tangled thickets of logic and philosophy of language, I myself understand it by supposing that it means more or less that we are together trying to start the car by means of my pushing it and you letting in the clutch, which is where we started.”