Use Your Words.

Today’s post is about semantics and investment. I want to write about how the words we choose convey more than just their surface meaning. I don’t mean connotation versus denotation, either. Semantics matter because they communicate personal investment. I believe an example would be helpful here.

For the sake of this post, consider the following phrases:

·                   If that’s what you want, I’m good with that.

·                   I want that, too.

On the surface, both statements convey agreement or accord. The responder is agreeing to what has been stated. For some people, reaching the accord is all that matters. Once an agreement is reached, once the deal is struck, does the language of assent really having any bearing? I say, yes; the language is important because it tells me your level of investment in the agreement, and that level of investment is key.

The first statement is what I would call “passive investment.” The responder is agreeing to the outcome. If you want pancakes for breakfast, I’m good with that. If you want to limit the production of fluorocarbons, I’m good with that. If you want to go to the Maldives on vacation, I’m good with that. Here’s the issue for me – where has the responder indicated that they too have a hankering for pancakes, want clean air, or long to see a far off archipelago? The responder doesn’t. No indication is given of the responder's desires. He or she is simply agreeing that they have no objection to the desire speaker has expressed. This response is passive and dispassionate. There’s no argument, but yet, there’s no investment either.

“I want that, too,” conveys something else. “I want” is not a passive agreement. “I want” is the responder saying, “I’m invested in your idea, your plan, your actions, your desires.” Those words convey the idea that the responder is invested in the speaker as well as the outcome. The responder isn’t simply agreeing without opposition. The responder is mirroring the speaker’s desire. The investment changes the feeling of the response from a tepid “okay” to an emphatic “yes.” Now, the two parties want pancakes together, they both want clean air, and they can share the dream of an exotic adventure. There’s joint investment. The two are looking forward in the same direction, with shared involvement. It’s the difference between going along for the ride and splitting the driving.

I’m not saying that the second statement automatically conveys the idea that the responder is ready, willing, and able to devote the time and effort to speaker’s idea that will result in fruition. The responder may not be a necessary or welcome part of the task. Michelangelo probably didn’t want anyone else coming near his unfinished Pietá with a hammer and chisel just to prove investment in his vision. Somethings are better left to solitary efforts. However, I believe that Michelangelo benefited from the encouragement and support, the investment, of someone who said, “I want you to sculpt the heck out of this marble, too.”

On the other hand, maybe not. Perhaps Michelangelo is the wrong person to employ as an example. I’ve met people who are so self-directed, so self-motivated, that the investment of anyone else is superfluous to their achievement. These are the people that if you doubt their ability, they’re going to go out and make sure they surpass even their own expectations. I wish I were one of those people. I admit I am not. I am a person who hears the semantic differences in the words.

Two words in which I hear a vast difference are “can’t” and “won’t.” The gulf between not able and not willing is oceanic. Can’t should be the result of prior knowledge or an attempt to accomplish or complete. Can’t should be shorthand for, “I tried, but I don’t have the skills/tools/ability to make this specific thing happen right now.” Unfortunately, I think that we’ve begun to accept can’t and won’t as synonymous. The two are different in that won’t indicates a refusal, or to literally break the contraction apart, a will not. The unwilling nature underlying won’t means that whatever inducement there is to accomplish a thing is simply not great enough or not valuable enough to inspire the attempt. The unspoken judgment that often accompanies “won’t” may be the catalyst for switching “can’t” and “won’t” as if they were synonymous. “I can’t” implies that you are taking the failure on as your own. “I won’t” implies that you have been asked to do something that you have no will to do. “I can’t love you,” is pitiable. “I won’t love you,” is cold. “Can’t” softens the blow that “won’t” delivers.

There are occasions when the emphatic nature of “won’t” makes it the nobler response. “I won’t let you hurt my children,” implies a determination that “I can’t let you hurt my children,” lacks. At the narrow, dramatic ends of the semantic spectrum, we tend to get the message across in an accurate manner. It’s the thick, muddy mess we make of our attempts to finesse language that convolute. See what I mean?

I’m weary of finessed language. I’m exhausted by the effort required to strip away carefully crafted semantics so I can understand the message. The message shouldn’t hide behind the words. The words should accurately convey your investment. If you don’t want pancakes for breakfast, tell me what you do want. If you can’t go to the Maldives with me because you have used all your vacation time for the year and will be fired if you take any more time off, tell me that. If the prospect of loving me for all that I am makes you want run screaming from the room, tell me that. If your lack of faith in me makes you unwilling to respect me, I need to know that, too. I won’t be good with that, but at least, I’ll know where not to invest.