The Freedom of Speech

Language had never been a subject of conversation between us, but even so — or, perhaps, therefore — when you asked why we had "ameliorate" when we also had "improve," I understood immediately that this was no query to meet with a quip.

The question was not of chronology, I knew — even if "improve" did seem to predate "ameliorate" by some 200 years — and, as a matter of debate, language of origin was to be ruled out as well, both words having evolved from French. The inquiry was no issue of precise definition, either, even if you did hint at that in your phrasing; no, clearly we were addressing the nature of synonyms — that is, practically speaking, why do we need multiple words that mean the same thing?

This is a somewhat silly endeavor, analyzing vocabulary etymology aside, but not one to be dismissed. At the time of your asking, I had no good response. Given the time to mull it over, I think I can give voice to the gut feeling you inspired.

Your proffer — that one word will do where many now exist — is pure lunacy. Ludicrous. Ridiculous. Preposterous.

Outrageously daffy, unbelievably chaffy, fantastically foolish and droll.

You would take any of those bolts from my quiver? To do so would be stupidly senseless, incredible and impossible. Harebrained, even. (Oh, there I go again.)

Maybe we are obliged to mention connotation, for a "terrible" premise is surely not the same as a "bad" one. But we need not wade into the waters of true synonyms, however rare they may be. Look past the minutiae in meaning; set aside the particulars of context. Enjoy, instead, the differing sensations as "pleasant" and "pleasurable" tumble off the tongue. Think of the combinations you might form. Does not "positively" add a certain ring to "captivating" that would be absent alongside "fascinating"?

The beauty of language, of diction, lies not in the words themselves but in their choice — in the assemblage of a communicable thought from a nearly limitless range of possibilities. Expression does not exist in a vacuum, nor does it exist randomly, the result of an infinite number of chimpanzees and their typewriters. History's every remark was selected, carefully or not. Each sentence, then, is not only what it is but also what it is not: the many, myriad, manifold options eschewed. When utterance is indulgence, the opportunity begets the artistry.

Rhetoric is not for the faint of heart. (They say, after all, that the pencil is more potent than the rapier. Or something like that.) Whether poignant or pithy, true discourse requires courage more than knowledge: the ability to make a point, sure, but also the understanding of self to pick one and the conviction to stand behind it, for how you convey yourself reveals as much about you as the thing you are conveying.

That can be a scary proposition, so if you still fail to recognize the allure, and the power, of this sort of choice, perhaps you lack the confidence to allow your words to define you. Or perhaps you just have nothing to say.