gracchusdixit

In 1927, the British novelist E. M. Forster delivered a renowned series of literary lectures at Trinity College, Cambridge, which were ultimately published under the title, Aspects of the Novel. His fifth lecture, called “The Plot,” described the basic structure of fiction as a logical sequence of causes and effects—necessary for any novel to make sense but also potentially deadening to the creation of interesting and unpredictable characters.

To illustrate this tension, Forster paraphrased an anecdote from a novel by the French writer, André Gide.  Gide told of an old woman who simply could not understand the purpose or workings of logic.  When, after much struggling, she finally got the hang of it, she exclaimed contemptuously:  “Logic!  Good gracious!  What rubbish!  How can I tell what I think, till I see what I say?”

That final sentence—“How can I tell what I think, till I see what I say?”—quickly became not only one of E. M. Forster’s best-known quotes but a lapidary expression of the interaction between, and the interchangeability of, language and thought.

It is commonly assumed that language is the antecedent of thought, that thinking comes first, whereas speech comes later and merely communicates thought.  The frustrated old woman in Gide’s anecdote understood that the reality is otherwise.  Language is far more than a mere mechanism for communicating our thinking.  It is the very armature of thought itself.  When we write or read, we are thinking in silence.  When we think in silence, we are speaking to ourselves.  When we speak to others, we are “thinking out loud,” and the quality of our thinking can be judged by what we say and how we say it.

Grammar, syntax, and verbal precision are not the stuffy niceties of the classroom; they are the structural underpinnings of reason and logic. The words in a sentence must stand in their proper relationships to one another.  The sentences in a paragraph must be properly ordered to illustrate, amplify, or prove a premise.  Without clear and rigorous language, clear and rigorous thinking is impossible.  Not only does the one depend upon the other, the two are inseparable.  They are, for all intents and purposes, the same thing.

The interaction between language and thought is all the more important in the political realm, because the most important political ideas—liberty and freedom, rights and duties, justice and fairness—are abstract words that cry out for clear thinking and careful definition.  Plenty of both are required from those who hope to advance political ideas or to govern successfully.

Which brings us to the man who now occupies the White House.

Much has been said about Donald Trump’s mendacity, about his seeming inability to separate fact from fiction, about his innumerable evasions and outright lies.  Comparatively little, however, has been said about the way he uses, or abuses, language and what that abuse may say about his ability to think clearly.

Whatever else we may demand of our presidents—whether we view them as heroes or villains, whether we support them or oppose them, whether we agree or disagree with their political philosophies—we expect them to be able to think and reason clearly.  Indeed, it would be impossible to agree or disagree with their views if we did not understand the views we were agreeing or disagreeing with.

In the case of Donald Trump, this is all but impossible.  Because his language is so fundamentally incoherent, it is difficult to tell what he actually thinks.  Indeed, it is questionable whether he is capable of thinking at all.

During a recent press conference, Trump was asked whether he has ever wondered if anything he has done might be worthy of criminal charges or impeachment.  It took him 650 words and nearly five minutes to reply.  Don’t worry.  I’m not going belabor you with his entire meandering rant.  The first and last paragraphs will suffice:

 I think it’s totally ridiculous.  Everybody thinks so.  And again, we have to get back to working our country properly so that we can take care of the problems that we have.  We have plenty of problems.  We’ve done a fantastic job.  We have a tremendous group of people.  Millions and millions of people out there that are looking at what you had just said, and said, “What are they doing?”

You look at the tremendous number of jobs that are being announced in so many different fields.  That’s what I’m proud of, and that’s what we want to focus our energy on.  The other is something I can only tell you:  There was no collusion.  And everybody — even my enemies have said—there is no collusion. So we want to get back and keep on the track that we’re on.  Because the track that we’re on is record-setting, and that’s what we want to do, is we want to break very positive records.

In calling these verbal jambalayas “paragraphs,” I am speaking metaphorically, since there is nothing about them that meets the literal definition of what a paragraph actually is.  Trump’s utterances are the equivalent of the jumbled debris in the toy box of a child: half the Lego pieces are missing, the dolls lack arms or legs, the stuffed animals are coming apart at the seams.

Our previous presidents have had a wide range of verbal and intellectual skills.  Some—Lincoln, Franklin Roosevelt, John Kennedy, Barack Obama—were keen thinkers and inspiring orators.  Others—Truman, Eisenhower, Reagan, the Younger Bush—were less intellectually quick but more homespun.  All understood the connection between words and thoughts, and could, in a pinch, express themselves with clarity.  They could, in short, “think out loud.”

The current President of the United States appears to lack that capacity.  His language rarely makes sense, and, as a result, his thinking almost never makes sense.  When Donald Trump “thinks out loud,” the result is a deafening silence.