Robert Fulford’s recent column addresses a favourite topic, irritating phrases:
A boss I endured in my youth told me early in our relationship that he favoured “forward planning.” His voice spoke of stern commitment to management principles. Afflicted as I was by the frightened politeness of the young, I lacked the nerve to say that I found it more useful to practise backward planning. Up to this moment, the word “forward” remains a favourite of those who dream of speaking in impressive sentences. In the last 10 years or so, “going forward” has become a pestilence; there are those who can’t speak of the future without using it. David Beckham, asked about some possible turn in his career, replied: “Going forward, who knows?”
I don’t mind “going forward” as long as it refers to action — i.e. actually going somewhere. You can say, “we’re going forward with the proposal,” but in Beckham’s phrase, for example, “going forward” doesn’t change the meaning: “Going forward, Who knows?”
Which isn’t to say I don’t use it too, sometimes.
Just as face-to-face communication relies on non-verbal cues, effective collaboration often requires insignificant verbiage. It’s like shaking hands: it doesn’t have to be logical; it can still be meaningful and appropriate — not to mention expected and required.
A couple of years ago I failed to appreciate this. I tried to be a hardassed linguistic self-disciplinarian. I wrote as if an especially persistent newspaper editor or someone like Fulford (here’s more and more) or Jacques Barzun was reading over my shoulder.
Sometimes I still write like that, when required — and when I don’t mind if nobody reads it — but I’ve also learned to embrace hollow, hackneyed phrases and clichés for the sake of recognition and feel.
They’re like innocent winks and nods we give each other in-person. Sometimes words and phrases are small gestures by which we relate — simply reminders of the page we’re all on — irregardless* of special significance.
*To be continued…
(via aldaily)
