I read a story about an FBI bomb expert who leaked classified information to an Associated Press reporter. The man’s career is ruined of course, and he will soon be spending a lot of time in prison, but it is the reporter’s correspondence with the man that had me shaking my head. I believe that journalists have a responsibility to hold themselves to a higher standard in all of their communications. In the case of the AP reporter, he sent this 19-word text to the FBI man:
“Al-Asiri is up to his old tricks. I wonder if ur boys got a hold of a cavity bomb.”
Texting and “Tweeting” are contributing to the destruction of the written language. In texting, shortcuts became necessary because of the limitations of the device on which the texts were sent. Most of the early cell phones did not have a full keyboard, but few of the current crop have that barrier. However, utilizing Twitter to keep the world current on our daily movements is challenging because of the 140-character limitation. But the AP reporter’s text has 64 characters: he could have spelled “your” without exceeding the Twit-limit.
Written communication is shriveling up and dying, but we are still aggressively hacking off pieces of its body by using cryptic messages such as “2 fun 4 u,” and “ur” (which can replace both “you’re” and “your”). We are no longer trying to get it right. I know a young man who is a high school senior, and his “Crackbook” posts drive me crazy. “You’re” and “your” are interchangeable and seldom used properly. He is excited about going to college, though, which gives me hope. And his posts are far better than those of his mother, which are barely literate. I do not understand how one can spend 12 years behind a desk and graduate without the ability to write a sentence. And no, I am not convinced that spelling, grammar and punctuation can be improved by writing in cursive. And the problem is not limited to the young, as the AP reporter demonstrates. I saw two recent online posts from television news stations, and both posts had syntax errors and misspellings. And I frequently hear television commercials that start “All things won’t,” which is an incorrect way of saying, “Not everything will,” that has gained acceptance. No one is paying attention. My “smart phone” gives me helpful spelling suggestions, and Microsoft Word questions both spelling and syntax. I ignore the suggestions when I want to achieve a specific effect, but I respect the scholarship of the program. But I see a decided lack of respect for the language in so many of our public communications.
Another popular “Crackbook” post is a page of gobbledygook that we are challenged to read. (I have refused to try.) “Our brains are amazing!” cries the post, touting our ability to understand misspelled words and phrases. But I contend that the fact that we can figure out the mess does not mean that we should have to do that in every thing we get to read.
None of my children take grammar and spelling shortcuts when they text me, nor when they post online, unless they are being purposely humorous. I admit that I do not see everything they post, but I am fairly certain that they maintain the same high standards they demonstrate to me. They try.
I am not a complete crank. When it comes to the necessity for speed, I can accept shortcuts. But when we have the leisure of time, composition should not be sacrificed.
Stp tht.