Somewhere there should be a “pundit school” where journalists,
commentators and politicians of all types would be required to
learn how to use and pronounce correctly all names and places.
Among the phenomena of the past several years is the unfortunate
prevalence of the mispronunciation of the country, Iraq. According
to the Iraqi UN mission it is “ear-rock” not “eye-rack.” Also
Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan (in which most of its citizens
hold the “g” silent), is pronounced “cobble” not “ka-bull” as
President Bush, Congressman Murtha, and many others are wont to
do.
Most confusing is the term Shia denoting that particular Islamic
sect. Shia is not only the name of the sect, but it also refers to
those who follow its tenets. That simple four letter word is both
singular and plural — an all purpose noun. Some years ago
English-speakers began using the word “Shiite” to refer to Shia
followers. Even the famed Middle East authority Bernard Lewis now
uses that term from time to time, which suggests the pundit school
may have to have a board meeting to settle that one.
Military terms have stumped everyone recently, sometimes even
the generals. For instance, the French word “cache,” which means
“hiding place,” has no accent on the “e”; it’s pronounced “cash”
not “cash-ay.” Journalists have had a hard time telling the
difference between a service personnel being injured or wounded.
The clue is involved with whether an explosion from enemy action —
bomb, mine, bullet, shrapnel, etc. - is involved. In that case the
person has been wounded. If their vehicle overturns while speeding
and the occupants are hurt, that’s when they are “injured.”
Military ranks tend to confuse younger journalists who have
never covered wars before. A perky young lady from one of the
networks seemed to get quite flustered in an interview when she
addressed a major general she was interviewing as “major.” In the
American army when you “make” general, (meaning having been
promoted to that rank) you are called “general” no matter whether
you are a brigadier, major, or lieutenant general.
Perhaps the most difficult rank to address is that of warrant
officer, of which there are several grades. Set between the status
of enlisted personnel and commissioned officers, but having all the
privileges of the latter, warrant officers are addressed as
“mister.” Now that is truly arcane.
The world of intelligence is really quite unknown to most people
outside of that business, and its terms are often misused by
“civilians.” Personnel involved in intelligence operations or
analysis are intelligence officers, though even that title is
questioned by some operational personnel who hold an analyst is an
analyst is an analyst. When staff operations personnel are dealing
with specific projects they are called “case officers.”
Agents in U.S. intelligence operations are individuals “run’ by
the case officer. Never refer to any of these people as “spies.”
The only spies are those who work for the enemy! Incongruously the
FBI and the Secret Service call their officers “Special Agents.”
Now that is really confusing. “Operative” is an all purpose term
preferred by journalists when they’re not quite sure what a person
is doing or has done. That may be their choice, but it appears none
of the security agencies use “operative” as an official job
description for anyone other than their bus drivers.
Americans in general are quite ignorant of the numerous European
titles of nobility. American journalists in this instance simply
reflect the national antipathy toward such honors, except in the
instance of jazz musicians and professional wrestlers. These days
most Europeans who have titles prefer to pretend they’re “just one
of the guys” and decline efforts to address them by their
honorific. Just as well, because pundit or not we just don’t seem
to “get it.”
Asia provides a whole new venue for incorrect nomenclature and
pronunciation. The Chinese, Vietnamese and Koreans all put their
family names first, while the Japanese follow the western style of
placing family names last. This is fairly easy to get used to until
you arrive in Indonesia or Sri Lanka where people’s names can be so
long and difficult for westerners to pronounce that shortened
versions are often offered up by kind public figures to help out
itinerant occidental writers.
Anglo nicknames abound in Asia. General Fidel Ramos of the
Philippines liked to be called “Jimmy.” There are quite a few
“Rocky’s” in odd parts of the world these days, though Samoans
playing American football loyally insist on being addressed by
their traditional names no matter how long and tongue twisting they
might be. But then a three hundred pound lineman can be called
anything he wants. Just don’t mispronounce Pago-Pago (pang-go
pang-go)!
