On innovation in language

A very interesting podcast by Stephen Fry on pedantry in language vs. freedom to innovate and break rules. If you are a member of the totalitarian regime that takes it name from a certain fruit, you can download it here for free. Otherwise, you can listen to it (or download it) here:




Now, Stephen Fry (and I shall really write more about this later) can be seen as a bit of an authority on the subject because of his own — immediately apparent — superior command of English tongue. His vocabulary, grammar and style are remarkable, and not, at the same time, at the expense of clarity.

Therefore, what he says is all the more interesting: he is against pedantry in language. He confesses he had to break himself out of it, but, nevertheless, he intensely dislikes the people who complain about others being wrong in grammar, usage, punctuation or the like.

Not only because he himself believes it normal — even most wonderful — that the language changes, adopts to new cultures, environments and circumstances, but also because he is irritated that these people worship rules for their own sake, and no evidence points to them enjoying the language.


My thoughts on the talk?

First of all, I liked it very much. And I agree with its spirit. I do think myself that it is wonderful to use the language creatively and “own” it, as it were. At the same time, I personally think it absurd to say that you can ignore the rules, the convention and the tradition completely. Not because I worship these phenomena for their own sake (people who have been in close communication with me know this to be quite opposite from the truth), but because they are good tools which get the job done. Effectively. More effectively than lack of rules.

The famous quote by Picasso goes something like: “It took me twenty years to learn to paint like an artist. It took me a lifetime to learn to paint like a child.” But he had to learn how to paint like an artist first! One has to know the rules in order to know how to break them. There is a world of difference between a pianist who reinvents a work of Bach (within the boundaries of classical tradition — or not) to suit her own style, personality, as well as the thoughts and feelings on the particular work, and me just banging on the piano. In the first case it is a light that was allowed to become expressed in a new vessel. Something wonderful. Something new. A creation ex nihilo. In the second case it is just noise. Nonsense.

I really do think that understanding why passive voice is to be avoided (pun intended — twice) allows one to use one’s sentences more effectively. And, if one so desires, one can break this rule. But, he must know it first to understand what he is breaking and why. (And the same goes for starting sentences with conjunctions.) As Rabbi Paltiel once said, it is not quite the same for a cow not to know G-d and, lehavdil, for a tzaddik not to know G-d. The former is just a product of mere ignorance. The latter is a case of submission to something that goes beyond the structure and the fabric of reality.

My main point is: Stephen Fry is right. Language needs to be enjoyed. It is more than just a form of communication. It is an art. (Although, even if used only for the means of communication, when done creatively, language can be incredibly forceful.) Having said that, the rules exist for a reason — they are not mere tradition necessarily. They are a means for expressing thoughts more effectively.

And knowing how to balance innovation with tradition is both an art and a science. The way to acquire this skill is through study and practice. Not through ignorance.

A final thought: I think one will find that most great thinkers, movers, creators, shapers and leaders, both in the Jewish and, lehavdil, secular history, used the force and the momentum of the tradition, to which they added a spice of innovation to create the explosions of brilliance for which they are known (and which have become the meat and potatoes of Judaism).  At their times, they were criticized for being troublemakers and innovators. In our times, they are the rock of the tradition and a source of inspiration and guidance. Take anyone, from Rambam or Rabbi Yehuda Ha’Nasi, to Alter Rebbe, to the Rebbe, and see if this formula applies.

This same idea is expressed in the concept of Havaya hu ha’Elokim. G-dly Light must reach this lowly world — and for this purpose, it must be accepted and shaped by a vessel. But, in order to be a recipient for the Light, the vessel must be subservient to the Light’s purpose and message, the knowledge of where it is coming from.