Careful Words, Careless Words
Out of the mouth comes evidence of what's in the heart. And no matter what the outward appearance, the spoken word is a window to the person on the inside. Some such windows have a crystal-clear transparency that immediately captures our trust. Sad to say, others are hazy, blurring the desired consistency between what we hear and perceive.
Certainly we should all be discreet in what we say, for words are like arrows which can't be retrieved. But some actually seem to choose their words a bit too carefully. In what appears to be an attempt to avoid the real issue with a contrived aura of honesty and forthrightness, they tippytoe around the truth. Even the most vociferous claims can't mask the unmistakable off-key ring of insincerity that signals the alert: what's not being said is probably more important than what is.
It's like asking a child whether he ate the cookies and hearing him say, "I didn't eat a cookie." He actually ate ten cookies, not just A cookie, but carefully chosen words can sometimes sound so convincing and persuasive.
In trying to absolve himself of wrongdoing, former President Nixon asserted, "I am not a crook," with all the chagrin that he could muster. But that was neither the issue nor the question. His statement was an abortive attempt to refocus the probing questions about Watergate.
More recently, President Clinton has repeatedly struggled to finesse the backlash from his moral indiscretions with weasel words such "improper relationship," avowals that he had done "nothing illegal," and hairsplitting the definition of a two-letter word into the most favorable context. If future trust is earned by an accurate rendition of past facts, all this maneuvering has torpedoed much of the implicit confidence that he once enjoyed.
In a sense, such carefully chosen words are frivolously careless words. Despite their technical correctness, they can dismember reputations that may have been a lifetime in the making. Wouldn't we think more highly of our leaders -- even forgive them if they've transgressed -- if they would be instantly honest, possibly even stumbling over a few not-so-carefully-chosen words? No carefully crafted concession is a substitute for a contrite confession, and the two are easy to distinguish.
To me, the president's behavior and his betrayal of public trust are so horrendous that they demand the severest of chastisements. Nevertheless, there's really a more fundamental issue at stake. Shouldn't each of us put the same constraint for honesty on ourselves? Perhaps I shouldn't linger too long in trying to put just the right spin on how to say, "I was wrong; will you forgive me?"
Just say it and move on.
Copyright 1998 James McAlister
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