Too often … the notion of good English has less to do with expressing ideas clearly than with making words conform to some arbitrary pattern. But at the same time, anything that helps to bring order to the engaging unruliness that is our language is, almost by definition, a good thing. Just as we all agree that clarity is better served if 'cup' represents a drinking vessel and 'cap' something you put on your head, so too, I think, the world is a fractionally better place if we agree to preserve a distinction between 'its' and 'it's', between 'I lay down the law' and 'I lie down to sleep', between 'imply' and 'infer', 'forego' and 'forgo', 'flout' and 'flaunt', 'anticipate' and 'expect', and countless others. Bill Bryson Troublesome Words April 2001

During the historic kerfuffle over whether to recount thousands of presidential ballots in Florida more than a year ago, the CBC was reminded that people count on us for accuracy – including correct use of language in news stories.

On Dec. 1, 2000, one of our foreign correspondents chose the word mayhem to describe colourful but peaceful protests outside the U.S. Supreme Court. The term also appeared on our Web site, in a subheading within the story's main text.

This use of mayhem was quickly challenged in an e-mail that made it all the way to our ombudsman's office:

Crowds of people milling about and demonstrating doesn't fit the word "mayhem". It is the wrong word. Go look it up. …
A misleading and sensationalizing subhead represents irresponsible journalism that inclines people to distrust news reporting and the media. The U.S., my birth country, may be facing a constitutional crisis that deserves more light and less heat. Please do something about enforcing your standards.

The complaint, from a doctor in Pembroke, Ontario, was sound. The story was changed. Unlike Al Gore, we did not appeal.

Mayhem came to us from Old French and originally meant to wound or maim. It eventually became a legal term, referring to the specific crime of "rendering someone defenceless by inflicting severe injury."

The word appears to be in slow transition. Although it has been used as a synonym for ruckus from time to time over the past 100 years, this broadened meaning appears to remain on the periphery of accepted usage. Most major dictionaries still refer to bodily harm or, at the very least, chaotic violence and wilful damage in their definitions.

IS CHANGE BLOODY INEVITABLE?

As pointed out in the essay Static over Style, every generation of journalists encounters old conventions that no longer apply.

A few decades ago, writers were warned that shambles always implied bloodshed, and that even the sharpest knife could not sever the word's connection to slaughterhouses. Nowadays, however, we have all sorts of places and things in "shambles" – even accounting records as people try to make ends meet.

Another example is mad. Some purists insist the word be reserved as a synonym for crazy, despite the fact it has also been used for hundreds of years to describe people who are merely angry. Writers who cling to the argument that mad must refer to insanity may be furious to learn the word originally meant to cut, mutilate, castrate or otherwise maim. (It came to Old English as the past participle of a now lost Germanic verb, according to lexicographer Eric Partridge.) Indeed, there's a link between madness and mayhem that we would be bonkers to ignore.

Mayhem may gradually undergo a change akin to shambles. But for now journalists at the CBC would probably be wise to keep in mind that many people still associate the term with violence, and that a headline like Mayhem outside the courthouse could be viewed as extremely misleading if no one is actually maimed.

MADDENING MISTAKES

English can be maddening. Take the word madding, which for centuries meant frenzied rather than something that caused irritation, according to some authorities. They encouraged us to observe a useful distinction between a "maddening crowd" and the rural life Thomas Hardy wrote about in his 1874 novel Far From the Madding Crowd – a title taken from a Thomas Gray poem from the 1700s.

But a quick look at Volume IX of the Second Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (which, appropriately enough, begins with the word Look before moving on to cover half of the next letter of the alphabet) shows that "maddening" has been one of the definitions of "madding" for hundreds of years.

It's another instance of our language being fuzzy. To try to keep potentially confusing sentences clear, some people passionately insist on differences between words that appear to be close cousins. (To this madding crowd, for instance, uninterested refers to boredom while disinterested means impartial.)

The rulings frequently reflect the individual preferences of editors rather than universal truths about acceptable versus unacceptable English. For journalists, then, exactly where boundaries are drawn often varies from newsroom to newsroom, and from boss to boss.

NEAR MISS

We've received e-mail in the past attacking the term near miss. The complaint is simple: if two objects nearly miss one another, they actually hit. Based on this argument, investigators looking into a "near miss" over Pearson International Airport might well be picking through wreckage, while a probe into a "near collision" would be a far less unhappy affair.

The problem is that over the decades the term has smashed its way into many people's speech and writing. The New Oxford Dictionary of English and the Canadian Oxford (both published in 1998) list "a narrowly avoided collision" as one definition of near miss.

Does that make the CBC wrong for discouraging its writers from using the term this way? No. Senior journalists set editorial standards, including acceptable language. But it's harder to enforce guidelines when "errors" have become so common they appear without comment in major reference books. (Language is not stationary, of course, and using the label error may itself be viewed by some as a more serious mistake than any pet peeve.)

Another example is centred around. Since the construction first appeared in the middle of the 19th century, many editors have pointed out that objects cannot be centred around anything. Centres are points, and while they may be "on" things they can't actually orbit them, according to this logic. Sneaky prepositions manage to get around, however, despite the best efforts of grammarians to erect fences.

How common is the idiom? In Oxford's vast collection of excerpts from books, newspapers, and other written material, roughly 25 per cent of all citations for this entry refer to "centre around" or "centre round." As the New Oxford Dictionary of English concludes: "The use is very well established … Given the extension of the sense away from geometrical exactitude, it is difficult to sustain the argument that it is incorrect."

BEGS THE QUESTION

It's said that beggars can't be choosers, although some people would like a few options when using a common expression featuring the word "beg." The origin of begs the question is "petitio principii" – Latin for "laying claim to a principle." It describes an argument that is false because it relies on a conclusion that is assumed but not proven.

Over time, "begs" has also come to mean "poses" or "addresses" the question. To highlight some people's unhappiness with this trend, the Canadian Oxford devotes several paragraphs to what it clearly identifies as an expanded but "disputed" definition. The lexicographers resist weighing in with a ruling – unsurprising, since dictionaries prefer description to proscription nowadays. But the 1997 Oxford Guide to Canadian English Usage doesn't hesitate to offer advice:

"In Canadian newspapers, 'begs the question' almost always means 'raises the question' or 'brings up the issue.' Although this usage is very common, it should probably be avoided because it is completely at odds with the formal meaning of the expression and constantly criticized by commentators."

Several news organizations, including the Canadian Press and Globe and Mail, have also told their journalists to stick with the original meaning. The CBC has published style guides over the years with similar recommendations, and columnist Martin O'Malley sent a reminder to the corporation's online news staff recently, along with some practical advice: "Since we seldom use 'begs' this way, many assume it means 'demands that a question be asked.' It does not. Best to avoid the phrase or risk embarrassment."

A JUGGERNAUT DECIMATES

Although history tells us it's generally futile to fight evolution of language, there may be good reason to resist certain change. English is richer if valuable distinctions are maintained.

For example, some editors argue that if we're bereft of something we don't merely lack it but, rather, are now living without it – a case of loss tied to "bereavement." To water down the term until it becomes a simple synonym for "missing" leaves us bereft of a useful word.

Even when expanded definitions are embraced, etymology sometimes plays a part in choosing the right word – illustrated by decimate. The original Latin word referred to "reducing by one-tenth," based on the ancient custom of killing one out of every 10 people to punish an entire group.

The New Oxford Dictionary of English points out that "this sense has been more or less totally superseded by the later, more general sense 'kill or destroy a large proportion of,' as in the virus decimated the population." But some critics recommend caution when heavy damage is specified and the context ends up at odds with decimate's literal meaning of 10 per cent. In the Penguin Dictionary of Troublesome Words, Bill Bryson cites this example: "Frost decimated up to 80 per cent of the crops."

Context, of course, can rumble in from many directions. Not long after Sept. 11, 2001, U.S. President George W. Bush apologized for calling his country's war against terrorism a crusade. Although the term has long referred to secular campaigns against problems as diverse as poverty and child pornography, its original ties to Christianity (the "mark of the cross") alarmed some Islamic leaders.

Roughly two months later, a CBC TV national newscast began with the following description of air strikes and ground assaults in Afghanistan: "Good evening. The Taliban is up against a juggernaut tonight … " Juggernaut, of course, is a perfectly acceptable term for "an overwhelming force." But the word came to English from Hindu mythology, based on Sanskrit "Jagannatha" (Lord of the World), and it may not be the best way to describe a military offensive in a Muslim country.

Like crops decimated by 84.73 per cent, and the U.S.-led crusade against terrorism, juggernaut could carry unwanted meaning in some contexts. Deciding what's appropriate in news stories is subjective, of course. But the choice should always be a conscious one by journalists and not a case of willy-nilly typing. Viewers, listeners and readers deserve that level of care. Since words can have many shades of meanings, writers and editors must never let down their guard.

KILOMETRES OF ADVICE

As with most major news organizations, the CBC has carved out its own style over the years. In many cases it's more a matter of encouraging consistency than claiming that only one approach is correct, but we generally have reasons for our preferences.

In his essay The CBC of Language, for example, Russ Germain cites kilometre as perhaps the longest-running battle over pronunciation at the corporation. He points out that major dictionaries list a couple of ways to say it, and then outlines in detail why the CBC is sticking with KILL-oh-mee-ter.

News Online is no different. We use spellings like colour instead of color, and terms like half-mast instead of half-staff. Our choices can't possibly please everyone – the flag flap is a perfect example – but they do represent deliberation by editors and offer a degree of stability to readers.

In other words we've given our style some thought and have come up with a plan, although it's by no means fixed. Since language itself is not steadfast, our guidelines are reviewed and updated. But some old "house rules" stand – at least for now – despite shifts elsewhere in the meaning of terms like near miss and begs the question.

Are we meticulous? In Shakespeare's days, the adjective meant fearful. A few centuries later, it became an insult to describe anyone who appeared overly fussy. Now it's often considered high praise, a way to compliment someone who's very careful.

We try to be thorough, but we're fallible. Every so often mistakes on the air or the Internet prompt senior CBC journalists to send memos about English usage to editorial staff. These messages are posted on an internal computer system to remind reporters, producers, editors, and others about common pitfalls. Some of the notes are added to an electronic "Language Directory," which includes the proper pronunciation of thousands of names and cities.

To get a glimpse behind the scenes, here is a short list of tips from several people, including Bruce Woolley (a veteran producer with National Radio News and Newsworld), Russ Germain (co-host of The World at Six and the Broadcast Language Advisor for Radio News), and Neil Everton (a former BBC journalist who is now an instructor with the CBC's Training Department):

A bonus is already extra. You don't need to add the adjective added. (See other redundancies)

It means mentioning people or things without directly identifying them. ("This country may not be ready for another prime minister who wears roses to work.") Don't use it as a fancy way of saying refer.

Implies anxiety. Avoid as a synonym for eager.

Career, Latin for "wheeled vehicle," means to rush ahead. Careen, Latin for "keel," refers to dangerous tilting.

Nothing centres around anything. Make it centres on or revolves around.

Destroy is what grammarians call an incomparable. (Something is either destroyed or it's not.) You don't need words like "totally" or "completely." Instead of saying "partly destroyed," try severely damaged.

Comprise is a highfalutin way of saying contain. It does not mean compose, which deals with creation. Parts make up the whole. Although the whole comprises parts, it does not create them. ("The small petting zoo comprises goats, lambs, pigs and a variety of fowl.") Small components never "comprise" anything. And nothing is "comprised of" or "contained of" stuff. Change it to "composed of" – for instance, "In 1969 the committee was composed of a dozen Liberals, four Tories and a New Democrat." The term "made up of" is far less lofty.

Really? How much less could you care? A lot? Then why bother telling us? It's not a good idea to drop n't from the expression "couldn't care less." The omission is seen by many as pure care-less-ness.

It means to increase volume, not to reach a climax.

Avoid as a substitute for problem. A true dilemma requires choosing between alternatives that are both undesirable.

Means impartial. A judge can be very interested in someone's testimony but should remain disinterested during the case. (A judge who's bored is uninterested.)

Defined as death by electric current. So "he died after being electrocuted by a toaster" is redundant. Shorten to "he was electrocuted by a toaster."

Although enormous means huge, enormity is usually defined as monstrously wicked. ("The teenagers recognized the enormity of their crime.") The Canadian Oxford Dictionary points out that while enormity has been used by some as a synonym for gigantic since the 18th century, it's still "regarded as incorrect by many people."

Evacuate means to empty. Places are evacuated, people are not (unless you administer an enema). So it's OK to write that police evacuated a house, office tower, neighbourhood, and so forth. But don't write "1,500 people were evacuated."
Evacuate can also mean to remove, but in this context it must be followed by a preposition like from ("1,500 people were evacuated from the village.") To avoid debate over whether such movements involve the bowel, try "1,500 people were ordered to leave their homes" or "1,500 people have fled to higher ground."

Defined as "carrying out orders." (A computer executed the command.) In the case of death, a trial is required before a state-appointed executioner carries out the sentence imposed. So hostage-takers don't execute, they kill or murder.

Flaunt means to show proudly. Flout means to disobey openly.

People don't die following accidents. They die in them, after them, or as a result of them.

Founder means to fill with water and sink. Flounder means to struggle or flail helplessly.

Before writing full-scale inquiry ask yourself what a half-scale inquiry is. Then write inquiry and be done with it.

Sometimes confused for generous. It actually means excessive or loathsome. (So "fulsome praise" is both an insult as well as a cliché.)

You can go skating and go swimming but you can't really go missing. You can, however, be missing. Make it "they are missing," "they have been missing since last week," or something similar. Avoid went missing, which the BBC calls "Army slang" that we should manoeuvre past. Options include "vanished" and "disappeared."

When writing about the Canadian navy, do not place the article the in front of HMCS. Otherwise, you end up with "The Her Majesty's Canadian Ship."

Speakers and writers imply (suggest) what listeners and readers infer (deduce).

Do you mean irrespective? The word regardless doesn't need any extra letters tacked on the front. Add an "ir" and risk an earful.

It's no lie. Two of the more confusing words in English involve repose, mainly because "lay" also happens to be the past tense of "lie."
Lay is a "transitive verb," which means it needs an object. In other words, you must specify what is being laid down: a person, groceries, the law. ("Now I lay me down to sleep.") Its main forms are "lay" (present), "laying" (present participle), and "laid" (past as well as past participle.)
Lie is an "intransitive verb," which means it does not take an object. ("He lies on a soft sofa.") "Its main forms are "lie" (present), "lying" (present participle), "lay" (past), and "lain" (past participle.)

LAY
Present	I lay the map on the desk; I am laying the map on the desk.
Past	Last week, I laid the map on the desk.
Present Perfect	I have already laid the map on the desk.
LIE
Present	I lie on the grass; I am lying on the grass.
Past	Last night, I lay on the grass.
Present Perfect	I have lain on the grass all afternoon.

Use less to refer to quantity (usually singular nouns such as wheat, money, and animosity), and fewer to refer to numbers (usually plural nouns, such as buildings, cars, and teachers.) For example, "Fewer than a thousand fans turned up, so less beer was sold."

Always plural, because we still distinguish one medium from another. ("The media have stopped covering her trips abroad.") Criteria, strata, and phenomena are also plural for the same reason. By contrast, data is singular, because we don't distinguish one datum from another. ("The data is inconclusive.")

People are not saved from near disasters, they're saved from disasters. Near disasters are what they sometimes have.

If two planes nearly miss one another, they hit. A close call, on the other hand, is a "near collision".

Huh? "One of two" is fine, and "one of three" makes sense, but "one of the one"? The expression is one of the few.

The Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries countries? Make it "members of OPEC," or something similar. For the same reason, avoid NDP party and NAFTA agreement.

Opinion polls don't show, they only suggest. They are based on surveys and rely on statistical analysis. In stories, always include the number of people interviewed, when the questions were asked, and the margin of error.

A rich source of redundancy. For example, shut down, join up with, trim back, off of, and stop off at.

There's good reason to steer clear of combinations like reason why or reason is because. For example, "the reason why the company is in trouble is because of falling demand" could easily be trimmed to "the company is in trouble because demand is falling."

First and foremost, be on the look out for ways to cut back the clutter:

advance planning assemble together cancel out careful scrutiny close proximity consensus of opinion continue on each and every fall down free gift friend of mine future plans gathered together honest truth limited to only mandatory requirement necessary prerequisite new innovation

old adage other alternative over exaggerate patently obvious plain and simple predict in advance pre-planned redo again reiterate again repeat again refer back rise up rules and regulations still remain temporarily suspended temporary respite true facts whether or not

Don't confuse with deny or disagree. It means to prove that something is wrong.

Havens are by definition safe. (See other redundancies)

Avoid this expression. Spree suggests a romp, not a rampage. People go on buying or spending sprees. But the tone of the story changes when somebody picks up a gun and starts firing.

Before picking one, ask yourself if the detail in the sentence is essential. If it is, you need that. But if the information is simply an aside, which can be separated by commas, choose which. For instance, "The pianist plans to record the concerto that she wrote in Banff once she settles a contract dispute" implies that the musician composed only one concerto in the town. In this case, that introduces a "defining clause." If you switch to which you remove this restriction: "The pianist plans to record the concerto, which she wrote in Banff, once she settles a contract dispute."

People don't live in "the Canada" or "the Manitoba," so why write stories about the Ukraine? Make it Ukraine.

This means one of a kind. It does not require a modifier. So terms such as totally, very, or quite unique are all unnecessary.

CONCLUSION

"Raise almost any point of usage with two journalists and you will almost certainly get two confident but entirely contradictory answers," writes Bill Bryson in the introduction to the Third Edition (2001) of one of his books on English: Troublesome Words. It's an update of a guide he produced as a subeditor at The Times in London in 1983.

Although an exaggeration, there is a measure of truth in his observation. It's one of the reasons many media outlets have their own manuals – something The Globe and Mail refers to as a "Style Book" and the Canadian Press calls a "Stylebook."

The CBC's style has evolved over the years, influenced by the times as well as the people who work in its newsrooms across the country. Our listeners, viewers, and now online readers also have direct input.

Sometimes changes are made, or old rules enforced, without much fuss. The complaint about mayhem mentioned at the outset is an example. But sometimes equally passionate criticism is considered unfounded. Consider this e-mail from last March:

"I've already sent a rocket to Newsworld over (a story tonight) about the Point Lepreau nuclear power station which "SPRUNG a leak." Two months ago or so, it was an Indonesian ferry boat that "SUNK." And we had the sad Americanism: "Honey, I SHRUNK the kids.… "

Although sprang is usually considered the past tense of spring, sprung is not wrong, according to the Oxford Guide to Canadian English Usage. The past participle is always sprung. ("The boat had sprung a leak before we were far from shore.") And while most authorities consider sank the past tense of sink, sunk is sometimes used. The past participle is always sunk. (For example, "the ship has sunk.")

It appears that distinctions involving shrink have already shrunk out of sight in many places. In the words of Oxford: "Although the usual past tense of shrink is shrank, some authorities also allow shrunk." The past participle can be either shrunk or shrunken.

One thing that hasn't shrunk over the years is interest in the use of English on-air and online at the CBC, which bodes well for Internet features like Words: Woe & Wonder. Yahoo! Canada recently picked it as the country's Top Social Science Web Site for 2001, thanks in large part to the comments and queries about language that have been sent in.

It seems appropriate to end this column with the promise that we'll try to keep finding new topics to explore, not only because it implies we'd like more letters but also because try to is a prime example of why so much of English is debatable.

The CBC, Globe and Mail, Canadian Press and other organizations have published manuals insisting writers use try to instead of the commonly heard expression try and in all cases. Many grammarians point out that try and uses a conjunction ("and") where the start of an infinitive ("to") should be. They also moan about possible confusion, since "try to keep" means effort while "try and keep" suggests success ("we will try and we will keep finding new topics.")

After a Newsworld newscast a few years ago, a senior producer in Toronto sent a note to everyone reminding them that the CBC prefers "try to" in copy. A producer in Halifax shot back a blistering reply, arguing that "try and" is both popular and understandable, and that banning it is absurd pedantry – especially since most people don't even know what an infinitive is. (In the earlier sentence, the infinitive "to keep" functions as a noun – the object of the transitive verb "try." Try what? Try to keep finding topics.)

The Halifax producer was in some pretty respectable company. More than 75 years ago, Henry W. Fowler pointed out that "try and" is acceptable as a colloquial term for "try to" under certain conditions. In A Dictionary of Modern English Usage, Fowler noted that "try and … has a shade of meaning that justifies its existence: in exhortations it implies encouragement – the effort will succeed – ; in promises it implies assurance – the effort shall succeed."

The New Oxford Dictionary of English says, "In practice there is little discernible difference in meaning, although there is a difference in formality, with try to being regarded as more formal than try and." It also points out that "try and" has undesirable limitations because it "cannot be inflected for tense." (For instance, sentences like "she tried and fix it" or "they are trying and renew their visas" are not acceptable, while "she tried to fix it" and "they are trying to renew their visas" are.)

Although Fowler ruled "try to" can always be substituted for "try and," he quickly added that the latter "is an idiom that should be not discountenanced, but used when it comes natural." Which brings us back to the debate at the CBC, and what happened in the next hour's newscast. The words "try to" suddenly appeared, not because "try and" is definitely wrong but because some journalists remain uncomfortable with it.

As for Fowler's advice about "natural" writing, the words try and are heard a lot in conversation on CBC Radio and CBC TV, and crop up in some of the writing as well. But discountenanced remains rare in news stories. If someone did try to slip it past an editor there might be a commotion. Depending on who was fighting over the script, as well as the proximity of sharp objects, mayhem could not be ruled out.

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