[Congressional Record Volume 144, Number 91 (Friday, July 10, 1998)]
[Senate]
[Pages S7922-S7923]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
VERBAL LITTER
Mr. BYRD. Mr. President, much has been said about the so-called
``lost art'' of writing. The ubiquity of telephones and, more recently,
electronic mail, or ``cyber-chat,'' as well as the acceptability of
alternative presentations in lieu of written essays in schools, can all
be cited as contributors to the growing inability of many people to
compose and edit well-organized and effective written documents. E-
mail, which is daily becoming more and more common, a common method for
communicating, is an easy, instant way to get a message out, but the
very quickness of the transmit inhibits the kind of thoughtful
consideration of the message and care in editing that are the hallmarks
of good letters and great literature.
Someone has said that letters are our personal ambassadors. We
politicians need to be very much aware of that. Letters are our
personal ambassadors. And the trend toward relying more and more
exclusively on e-mail means that the future's historical archives will
become littered with broken sentence fragments, incomplete thoughts,
and embarrassingly ignorant spelling. Think about it. Mr. President,
can you imagine the Federalist essays by Jay, Madison, and Hamilton--
can you imagine those Federalist essays, had they been typed in such a
stream-of-consciousness manner and then spewed across the fiber optic
web the way some messages are nowadays?
I am sure that Hamilton, Madison, and Jay, the authors of the
Federalist Papers, did not speak as cogently and fluidly as they wrote.
Perhaps nobody does, or very few persons do. But they were no slouches
at the speaker's rostrum. I doubt that they would have been very good
on television. I have thought about that a good many times, and
wondered how Daniel Webster or Henry Clay or John C. Calhoun would have
come across on television. How would they do on 20-second sound bites?
They would do as poorly as Robert C. Byrd, I would anticipate.
As Francis Bacon observed, ``Reading maketh a full man; conference a
ready man; and writing an exact man.'' Think about that also. That is
very true. ``Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and
writing an exact man.'' And so we write more exactly than we speak.
These Founding Fathers were certainly well read and they were good
writers and, therefore, very knowledgeable and exact, precise, weighing
every word.
When we speak of infrastructure, such as reservoirs and dams, we talk
about the Army engineers. When we seek their recommendations about a
particular dam or reservoir, they will give us advice, and it will
reflect the B-C ratio, the benefit-cost ratio. Anything that is
recommended by the Army engineers would have to have at least $1 in
benefits for every $1 in costs. That is the benefit-cost ratio.
Therefore, in speaking of the Founding Fathers, which is a term that
needs to be examined--``Founding Fathers''--and especially those who
wrote the Federalist essays, I think in terms of the benefit-cost
ratio. They made every word count. Every word carried its full weight.
It had a proper place in the construction of the essay. It wasn't used
lightly. It was used thoughtfully. So there was the B-C ratio.
Well, that is just a little idea of mine. But these men were
knowledgeable, they were exact, and their writing was enhanced by their
thoughtfulness, and, in turn, their speaking ability was enhanced by
their writing, especially in the case of Daniel Webster.
When Webster made a speech, when he spoke on January 26 and January
27, 1830, in his debate with Hayne--schoolboys all across the Nation,
it used to be, were required to memorize some of Webster's speeches. I
don't guess they are required to memorize those speeches anymore. As a
matter of fact, memorization is not looked upon as being very
beneficial or helpful in some schools, I suppose. Times have changed.
But Webster was a good writer, and he memorized the speeches, many of
them. Then he took them home, took them to his boarding house near the
Capitol Building, and kept them for a few days, edited them, changed
them, for the purposes of publication. Therefore, they were not exactly
the speeches that we schoolboys memorized, they were not the exact
speeches that Webster gave before the Senate. They were improved upon,
just as we edit our own speeches. But we don't take them home. We don't
take them to our boarding houses and keep them out several days. We
edit them the same day. Many Senators probably have their staffs edit
their remarks. But Webster, in doing so, had in mind exactly what Bacon
referred to: ``Writing maketh an exact man.''
I said that the term ``Founding Fathers'' needed a little
examination. Who were the Founding Fathers? Were they the signers of
the Declaration of Independence? Were they the Framers of the
Constitution? Were they the Framers of the first American Constitution,
the Constitution under the Articles of Confederation? Were they the
signers of the second Constitution, the Constitution of 1787?
In those days, women did not participate in the conventions--but
would the Founding Fathers also not include those individuals who met
in the various State conventions to ratify the Constitution? Would they
not include the writers of the Declaration of Independence? Would they
not include the Members of the Congress under the Articles of
Confederation? They surely debated much that went into the second
Constitution. Would they not include the legislatures of the States
that then existed?
So when we talk about the Founding Fathers, many people associate
that term only with the framers of the second American Constitution.
And certainly the framers were Founding Fathers, but not all the
Founding Fathers, I am saying, not all the Founding Fathers were
framers of the Constitution. So there is a little difference. It isn't
a serious matter by any means, and I am not taking issue with anyone,
but I have thought about that term.
It is hard to imagine that their spoken words could possibly be
undercut by any of the all too common fillers that plague common
conversation today, those ``ums'' and ``uhs'' and ``likes,'' and
especially that inanity of inanities, ``you know.'' That is the most
useless phrase. That is pure deadwood. It doesn't carry its weight in a
speech, ``you know.''
Any time one turns on a television--which I don't do very often;
perhaps that is why I have a lot of old ideas--he will hear a string of
``you knows'' from the anchormen and women, ``you know.''
What does it mean, ``you know''? What do I know? You know? That is
taking advantage of the other person when you say, ``You know.'' ``You
know.'' How silly, how useless a phrase. That certainly would not carry
its weight under the B-C ratio--the benefit-cost ratio--that inanity of
inanities; that inanity of inanities, ``you know.''
Oh, how I hate that pernicious phrase, ``you know.'' This is simply a
filler. The tongue is operating in overdrive and the brain is somewhat
behind the tongue, ``you know.''
We are told by Plutarch that--well, I am providing a rather good
example of what Plutarch was saying. He said that Alcibiades was the
greatest orator of his time.
Plutarch wrote that Demosthenes said that Alcibiades was the greatest
speaker of his time and that when he came to a place in his oration and
was having difficulty remembering the exact word, he paused--he
paused--he simply paused until the right word came. He did not fill the
gap with ``you knows'' or ``ahs,'' ``uhs,'' or ``ums,'' and so on. He
simply waited until the right word came.
Try it sometime. Record your own remarks. See if you are using that
[[Page S7923]]
phrase. Our remarks are awash in ``you knows.'' And they are uttered
all around us by people who are unaware of how they are filling the
time between words when the mind is still struggling to complete the
thought. They are filling the time with that inanity of inanities--
``you know.''
Speaking now as a listener, I contend there is almost nothing more
irritating and distracting than suffering through countless ``you
knows'' while trying desperately to discern what message the speaker is
attempting--vainly--to convey.
If I were teaching a class, that would be one of the things I would
come down very hard on. I know that most people have no idea that their
speech is packed chock-full of ``you knows,'' and it just becomes a
habit. And if one listens to it very much, he will fall victim to the
same bad habit. For the first thing he knows, he will find that his
remarks are being filled with ``you knows.'' And these are sometimes
strung together in staccato multiples: ``you know, you know, you
know?'' It is simply filler--meaningless--sound to fill dead air while
the speaker's unprepared brain hunts down the sentence's conclusion.
Perhaps it is because Americans are such creatures of the television
age, used to actors, or those who think they are actors, news
broadcasters, even politicians, reading seamlessly from scripts, cue
cards, and teleprompters. We are not used to hearing pauses of any
length so we unconsciously try not to allow even a few seconds of
quietude to fill the air.
We have become unused to true public speaking and debate in which
informed individuals prepared their minds with facts and arguments,
listened to each other, and retorted and rebutted extemporaneously.
Such debate demands close attention and even, shockingly, moments of
silent, deliberate thought while a rejoinder is mentally composed.
I never hear the senior Senator from New York, Mr. Moynihan, using
that phrase. I have noticed that he pauses from time to time, but he
does not use the phrase ``you know.'' I think of him as a fine example
of a teacher at whose feet I would be honored to sit.
These small pauses, like the quick closing and opening of the stage
curtains between acts, allow the speaker to savor the argument he has
laid out, while his opponent prepares a clever and pointed rebuttal.
Few can do that anymore, even those so-called professional debaters--
the talking heads of media and politicians. If the response is quick,
it is quite likely to be a prepared, canned, one-liner sound bite which
sells the sender's message regardless of whether or not it is
completely pertinent.
It is possible to expunge ``you knows'' from public discourse. I have
seen it done by conscientious individuals, as I indicated a little
earlier, but it is no easy task. Like poison ivy, ``you knows'' are
pernicious and persistent. It takes strong medicine to kill back that
lush growth, and diligent weeding to keep opportunistic tendrils from
creeping back into common use. To rid one's speech of ``you know,'' one
must first learn to listen to himself or to herself. One must learn to
train himself to recognize that he uses ``you know'' or other
distracting filler words. As a test, ask someone to tape you or to
count the ``you knows.''
Various members of my staff, as and when and if they hear another
staff person saying ``you know,'' they point their finger immediately
at that person. And in that way they help to break the habit. I think
many people will be unpleasantly surprised at the results of such a
test. Then enlist these same friends to alert you when an unconscious
``you know'' pops out. They will enjoy that part of the task. And then
work at it, work at it, work at it. The more you do, the more you will
notice just how often you use such needless and asinine fill-ins. Weed
them out of your speech, and you will increase your reputation as a
good speaker and a thoughtful person. There is a common saying to the
effect that ``I would rather be silent and be thought a fool, than to
open my mouth and prove it.'' Speech peppered with ``you knows'' has
much the same effect.
As I have observed already, Alcybides was noted for his practice of
simply pausing silently when the chosen word momentarily escaped his
mind's ability to marshal and bring it safely to his lips. Then, when
he could continue, he simply resumed speaking. And he was the finest
orator of his time. Clearly, a moment of silence is preferable to ``you
know.'' Think of it: ``Four score and, like, seven years ago, you know,
our Forefathers, uh, brought forth, you know, upon this continent, you
know, a new nation, you know, conceived in, uh, liberty, and, you know,
you know, dedicated to the proposition that, uh, uh, like, all men are
created, like, equal.'' With that kind of delivery, President Abraham
Lincoln could not have stoked the nation's determination to see the
Civil War through to its conclusion. Or let's imagine Martin Luther
King: ``I, uh, have a dream, you know.'' Not a very stirring message
when it is lost in the verbal litter.
Ridding your speech of such verbal trash may not make an individual a
leader of nations or of men--that requires great thoughts as well as a
clear and stirring delivery--but leaving them in can surely blight the
path to greatness, you know.
Mr. President, I have some remarks on another matter, but I see the
distinguished senior Senator from Massachusetts, my friend, my true
friend, Senator Kennedy is on the floor. I am going to ask if he wishes
to speak at this time?
Mr. KENNEDY. I thank the Senator for his typical kindness. I would be
glad to make my remarks after my good friend from West Virginia. It is
always a pleasure to listen to him at any time, but particularly on a
Friday when I can give full attention to his eloquence.
Mr. BYRD. Mr. President, I thank Senator Kennedy. As I have remarked
before, and I shall say again, he is one who would have appropriately
graced a seat at the Constitutional Convention in 1787. I can see him
working in that audience on the floor and off the floor, arguing
forcefully and passionately, and advocating his position on a matter
and doing it well.
So I will proceed. I will try to be brief, more so this time than
other occasions.
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