Freeing our minds from the slavery of the verb ‘to be’

Originally I intended to call this essay ‘Why e-prime is such a great idea’. Then I realised that conflicted with one of my aims for the essay – to write the whole thing in e-prime.

A man named David Bourland invented the notion of e-prime as a means of making language easier to understand. E-prime differs from English in only one respect – that it omits all use of the verb ‘to be’ and its synonyms like ‘to exist’. In e-prime one can mention those verbs by putting them, either stand-alone or as part of a phrase, in quotation marks. A mention, as opposed to a use, quotes something from a foreign language – in this case English. So please don’t write me remonstrative letters about my using the forbidden verbs inside quotes. I didn’t use it. I mentioned it.

I discussed e-prime in my 2014 essay ‘On language and meaning’. In this new essay I aim to further explore the capabilities, benefits and limitations of e-prime, and to take up the challenge of writing a whole essay in that language. I will have to cover some old ground again. But I aim to make most of it new.

Why bother?

First, let’s ask: ‘why bother?’ It sounds like a lot of trouble to take over an apparent triviality. We might also fear that avoiding that verb would make language too difficult to use, given the depth of its embedding and integration into our language. It crops up almost everywhere. One might as well try to ban using the letter ‘e’.

In the next paragraph I will suggest reasons for bothering, but first I want to say that most uses of the verb create no trouble at all. When my beloved partner calls out from the other end of the house ‘Are you there Andrew?’, I know she means ‘Can you hear me, and if so can you please let me know’. If I reply “I’m in the garden”, she knows I mean that I can hear her, that she can find me in the garden if she wants to talk to me, or she can call out again and I could come to see her, if wanted.

Compare the simple clarity of that exchange, expressed in either English or e-Prime, with the verse 3:14 of the book of Exodus “And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM”. Nobody knows what that means. Pragmatists like me say it means nothing. But that has not stopped theologians like St Thomas Aquinas from writing hundreds of thousands of words of dense (and in my opinion, meaningless) prose trying to explain what that sort of thing means. The same thing happens when they try to explain that the consecrated wafer “IS the body of Christ” and that “God IS the Father and God IS the Son but the Father IS NOT the Son”.

This sort of nonsense doesn’t only come from Christians, Jews or Muslims. The Vedanta school of Hinduism, with which I feel great affinity, says that “We ARE all God (Brahman)” and “This world IS Brahman’s dream”. Buddhism, with which I also fellow-travel, says “There IS no persisting self”. One can criticise the opacity of these statements as fairly as those of the previous paragraph. I think I could possibly translate the latter two into e-Prime, and thereby render them more intelligible, but I’d need another essay for that.

The other day, while idling time away on the internet, I could not stop myself reading the entirety of a blazing row between two strangers on a philosophy discussion forum about a statement by the twentieth-century mystic Jiddu Krishnamurti that “The observer IS the observed”. I find some of Krishnamurti’s writing helpful and wise, but I confess I have no idea what he meant by that one. Yet those two internet users thought it worth their while to insult and berate one another, despite never having met, for page after page because they had different interpretations of Krishnamurti’s meaning.

Even Bertrand Russell, who generally took a pragmatic approach, and has the respect of most philosophers and many others, sometimes used the verb in obscure ways. He wrote an essay entitled “It Seems, Madam?? Nay it IS”. Hamlet first uttered that phrase, to his mother. We can translate it as “It may merely SEEM to you, Mum, that I constantly feel miserable, but I can assure you that I really DO constantly feel miserable”.

Russell’s essay sought to attack the Idealist philosophy, which to some extent denied the difference between “appearance” and “reality”. Russell wanted to say that some things that ‘seem to be the case’, really ‘ARE the case’, for instance that “Edinburgh REALLY IS North of London”. But unlike Hamlet’s use of ‘it is’, I don’t think Russell or anyone else can explain his use of ‘REALLY IS’ in that Edinburgh sentence, and I find myself wondering confusedly what he meant. When confronted with such statements, I always ask myself, “How would a world where that ‘REALLY IS’ the case differ from one where it ‘only’ seems that way to anybody that ever attempted to find out, in the past present or future?” We can only answer “It would not differ in any way that we can understand, or that means anything to us”.

By the way, whether there ‘is’ a difference between appearances (or experiences) and ‘reality’ generates numerous ferocious debates amongst philosophers. People have destroyed friendships, lost families and fortunes over this meaningless question. One might view it as the modern-day version of Aquinas debating whether two angels can occupy the same space.

The disease of misused ‘is’ extends beyond philosophy and religion. Even the smallest children suffer from it. Consider the difference between ‘You are behaving like a jerk’ and ‘You ARE a jerk’. The first can serve as a loving remonstrance, and an encouragement to behave more sweetly. The other condemns the person for life. Even a three year-old, unacquainted with big words like ‘behave’, understands the difference between ‘You smell of poo’ and ‘You ARE a poo’.

Or in morals and law: ‘You have done an evil thing’ condemns strongly, but ‘You are evil’ condemns for life, with no hope of rehabilitation. Once they elect me king, I will forbid judges from pronouncing character judgements on convicted felons in their sentencing speeches. They may only pronounce judgement on the actions of the convicted felon.

In short, I claim that eschewing at least some uses of ‘to be’ can bring psychological benefits as well as benefits in clarity and morality. I also suggest that, when you read a sentence you do not understand, it might help to search it for obscure uses of that verb. If you can find one, perhaps you will discover that all the trouble stems from it, and conclude that the problem of understanding lies not with you but with the writer.

I hope that convinces you to least consider the potential benefits of reducing one’s use of the verb. As to the other obstacle I identified above – of the potential difficulty of training oneself away from an habitual use of the verb – listen to some of a three-part interview from 1997 with David Bourland himself, saved here on Youtube. I have not yet listened to all of it. But I listened to several minutes and it delighted me to realise that he did not use the verb at all. Yet he speaks so clearly, in a warm, colloquial way, like an old-style raconteur. That should suffice to show that omitting the verb would not make language more stilted and academic. Indeed, to me the opposite seemed to occur.

The verb ‘to be

The verb ‘to be’ infests English more than its equivalents do other European languages. When I started learning French at the beginning of high school, I found it odd that we had to say ‘I am Andrew’ as ‘Je m’appelle Andrew’, which literally translates as ‘I call myself Andrew’. But now it seems to me to make more sense. As Humpty Dumpty pointed out to Alice, what people call someone merely labels them. We don’t need anything beyond that. We don’t need to get into that quaint, English, overcomplicatedly metaphysical (and indefinable) concept of ‘existence’ just to introduce oneself.

One could also say ‘On m’appelle Andrew’ which means ‘people call me Andrew’ (literally: ‘One calls me Andrew’). Even better. French – one, English – nil.

What do the English mean when they say ‘I am hungry’? That sentence makes no abstract metaphysical statement. It just means they feel hungry. Again with the French, they say ‘j’ai faim’, which literally translates as ‘I have hunger’. Okay, a bit weird, but makes more sense than to declare some sort of equivalence between oneself and an adjective ‘hungry’. My father used to make fun of this English language oddity by replying, whenever one of his children said that (as we often did) ‘Hello Hungry, I’m Dad!’.

Or the weather. Which makes more sense to you: ‘It is sunny’, or ‘Il fait du soleil’, which literally translates as ‘It makes sunshine’?

Let’s not overly eulogise the French though. Any culture that can take a simple sentence like “Explain that to me” (e-prime) or “What is that?” (English) and express it as “What is this that this is?” (“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”) has no grounds for complacency.

Famous quotes with and without the dastardly verb

Let’s look at some well-known examples from literature.

Think of the infamous ‘To be or no to to be, that is the question’.

Just because Shakespeare lived long ago and has plays in all the high school syllabi, he gets a free pass on this atrocity that has confused poor innocent schoolkids for centuries, as they try to find a meaning in the silly statement. Once they receive an explanation, they usually think ‘why didn’t he just say “shall I kill myself or not?”, as he meant exactly that’. But they think it silently, because criticising Shakespeare begets not good marks at school. By the way, that sensible, unpretentious translation qualifies as perfect e-Prime.

Or “Wherefore art thou Romeo?”. Note that the English verb ‘to be’ in archaic form conjugates second person familiar as ‘thou art’, so ‘art’ doesn’t belong to the language of this essay. Again most listeners, right back to Shakespeare’s day, thought he meant ‘I can’t find you Romeo. Tell me your location’. But no, Shakespeare played a silly game of words, using the word ‘wherefore’ to mean ‘why’, so that the sentence means ‘why are you named Romeo?’ Which makes no sense, even with that translation, because Juliet had no problem with his first name but with his last name. She should have said ‘why do you belong to the Montagues?’ [The family that hated Juliet’s family, and vice versa]. David Mitchell exposed this silliness with excruciating wit and precision in an episode of ‘Upstart Crow’, but I thought of it before he did. Or at least before he produced that excellent comedy series. In any case, both ‘Tell me your location’ and ‘Why are you named Romeo [Montague]’ qualify as e-Prime.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife’ translates very naturally as ‘Everyone acknowledges that a single man in possession of a good fortune must want a wife’. Easy-peasy.

A trickier one: ‘All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’ becomes ‘All happy families resemble one another [or, seem similar]; each unhappy family suffers for a different reason’. The e-Prime translation differs from the English one on a literal basis, but has the same meaning. The e-Prime version states explicitly the meaning that the English version veils behind poetic abstraction.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, …..’ translates as ‘On a bright cold day in April, as the clocks struck thirteen, Winston Smith, ….

Gosh, for that one we only needed to change three words and a punctuation mark. Orwell’s brilliance as a writer shows in how sparingly he uses the dreaded verb. Indeed, the second sentence of 1984, the one starting with ‘Winston Smith’, does not use the verb at all! It seems to me that avoiding the verb makes writing more alive, more active. It has a similar effect to choosing active voice over passive – a practice whose benefits people acknowledge almost as universally as Jane Austen’s dictum about rich, unmarried men.

Incidentally, Orwell’s brilliance comes through again in the book’s chilling ending:

He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.’

Not a ‘to be’ or a ‘not to be’ in sight! Take that, Shakespeare!

In fact, I think most great short quotes do not contain the dreaded verb. Consider:

Do you feel lucky, punk

Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn’ {I know, I know, he never actually said that!]

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do

No man needs just a little salary

You can’t handle the truth!

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine

You played it for her, you can play it for me. Play it, Sam!

I cannot deny the greatness of “I’ll be back”, done, of course, in an Austrian accent. But perhaps General Macarthur said it better (and earlier) with ‘I shall return’.

Gordon Gekko’s famous ‘Greed is good’ threw me a bit. I started to wonder whether we cannot talk of vices and virtues in e-prime. How does one translate ‘Patience is a virtue’? After some reflection I realised that those uses of ‘to be’ belong to the mode ‘Class Membership’, amongst the eight broad modes of how one can use ‘to be’. In English, one says ‘X is a Y’ to indicate that the item X belongs to the class Y. For instance ‘Rover is a dog’. In mathematics we would write this as Rover∈Dogs. In e-prime we could say ‘Rover belongs to the set of dogs’. Similarly, ‘Greed [and patience] belong to the set of virtues’. The first comes from Gekko, not me. I don’t think he’d agree with the second.

Or perhaps he meant ‘Cultivate your greed. Feel proud of it, not ashamed.

Different uses of ‘to be’

Class membership, together with five other modes of using ‘to be’, creates no problems at all. I’ll list the six uses:

  • Class Membership. Example: ‘Ariadne is an architect’. Translation: ‘Ariadne  belongs to the group of people we call “architects” ’.
  • Class Inclusion. Example: ‘all cats are animals’. Translation: ‘All members of the group we call cats belong to the group we call “animals” ’. In mathematics, we use the “subset of” symbol ⊆ for this, writing “cats⊆animals”.
  • Predication. Example: ‘the cat is furry’. Translation: ‘The cat has fur all over
  • Auxiliary Active. Example: ‘the cat was sleeping’. Translation: ‘The cat slept’.
  • Auxiliary Passive. Example: ‘the cat was bitten by the dog’. Translation: ‘The dog bit the cat’.
  • Location. Example: ‘the cat is on the mat’. Translation: ‘The cat sits on the mat’ or ‘The mat has the cat on it’.

The extra words in some of the translations may seem clumsy to some. But in practice, just like when one translates from German to English, one aims to translate a whole paragraph rather than just a sentence. That gives more scope for strategic manoeuvering, which generally allows a more natural, flowing translation. Sentence-by-sentence translations from German to English sound truly awful, as the infamous example of the English libretto of Haydn’s ‘Creation’ oratorio demonstrates.

Disallowing the auxiliary active seems to lose a nuance of English. We think of ‘I was jumping’ as having a different meaning from ‘I jumped’. The former describes something happening (me sleeping) while another thing happens as well, eg ‘I was jumping when I tripped and sprained my ankle’. The latter describes a completed action, eg ‘I jumped over the bar without disturbing it’. In technical grammar language, we call the former the ‘past continuous’ and the latter the ‘simple past‘ or ‘preterite‘.

In latin languages we call the past continuous the ‘past imperfect’. They implement it by changing the ending of the word, so that ‘je saute’ (‘I jump’) becomes ‘je sautais’ (‘I was jumping’). Note that French does not introduce any auxiliary verb such as ‘to be’. Instead it just alters the verb ending. The use of ‘was/were’ as an auxiliary verb in English may delight us as one of its many quirks, but it really has nothing to do with the verb ‘to be’. We could just as well use ‘made’ or ‘did’ as our auxiliary verb, as in ‘I did jumping’. Or we could invent new verb endings to signify the past progressive, eg ‘I jumpeding’. As another alternative we could mimic the way many slang expressions work, omitting common words. We could say ‘Me – jumping, right? I tripped. Yaah! Sprained ankle. Gross!

This demonstrates that in some uses of ‘to be’ it serves merely as a connector, and fell into that role by pure chance. Because we have learned the language with it in that role, we find it difficult to get by without it. We can easily fix that, by inventing new word endings as above, and/or by using slightly longer or slang constructions in some cases. Or we could allow ourselves to use ‘to be’ in those constructions, because those uses do not cause problems with logic, clarity and depression.

To me it seems easier to avoid all use of the verb, for the same reason that some people become vegetarian even though they only really object to meat from animals with unhappy lives. We find it easier to avoid all of something than to constantly have to investigate whether the particular instance facing us belongs to the acceptable class of that sort of thing. I practice vegetarianism for that reason. E-prime takes that pragmatic-vegetarianish approach to intermittently-troublesome verbs.

The troublesome uses

Two classes remain, that generate all the difficulty. Those uses inspired Bourland, and to some extend his mentor Alfred Korzybski before him, to favour constraining the use of the verb. Let’s list the two classes:

  • ‘Existence’. Example: ‘There is a God’ or ‘There is no God’.
  • ‘Identity’. Examples: ‘This is Freya’. ‘That is a kangaroo’.

“Existence”

Existence’ presents the biggest problem. Let’s reflect first on why people care whether ‘God exists’. I think they care because of what they expect God to do. Someone brought up to believe in hell may hope God does not ‘exist’, meaning they hope that they will not suffer eternal torture for eternity after their death. In that sense I think I can fairly say that I hope, and believe, that the God that the teachers and priests taught me to believe in as a child does not ‘exist’. This means I hope no cosmic dictator will sentence me to an eternity of suffering. On the other hand, someone who longs for those that suffer in this life to receive comfort and reward after death, may believe, or want to believe, in a God that will make that happen. I think that, when they say they ‘believe in God’ they mean they believe that people will receive that comfort and reward.

It may not need pointing out, but I’ll do it anyway: one may hold both of those hopes or beliefs. One may hope for a God that does not send people to hell, or even allow them to end up there, and at the same time hope for a God that will comfort and reward sufferers. Neither putative divine characteristic necessitates the other. I would like to think that most members of official religions hold both those hopes. But I feel sad to see that so often contradicted by the many powerful clerics that rail against ‘sexual sin’ (even including contraception practised by a couple who married in a church) and forecast God’s displeasure and punishment as a result. But perhaps most lay members of religions hold the life-affirming beliefs, and mostly only the power-broking clerics in their religions criticise and deny them. I find it encouraging that most Roman Catholics have never even heard of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, let alone know or care about the many rules that that group of old men say God made. People who’ve never heard of the Congregation may know it by the informal name people used for it in past centuries – the Inquisition.

Yet many people do care, or say they do, about whether God ‘exists’, even if it has no consequences for them. More generally, some people passionately assert that they care whether material objects ‘exist’. Some philosophers debate with passion intensity whether a cup inside a wooden cupboard ‘exists’, in a sense that means something more than simply that if we opened the cupboard door, we would see the cup and could get it out to drink some tea with.

I see such opinions, regardless of how passionately people hold them, as deluded. Saying you believe fervently in X does not mean that you do care, if you can’t explain the meaning of X. It may mean instead that you care fervently about something that relates to what you label as X. The ex-RC may care fervently that nobody gets tortured for eternity. The Believer in Cups cares fervently about having something to drink their tea out of. They think they believe in something more than that, but they don’t.

Now I know that sounds arrogant and silly. Who gave me the right to tell other people what they really think? In my defence, I point out that I don’t claim to know what they think. I only claim to know what they don’t think – a much easier exercise. I don’t believe anybody can believe a claim that neither they nor anybody else can explain. If somebody says to me ‘I believe that nhjkn sdhg futf’, I feel entitled to say ‘I don’t think you really believe that’. I suppose my statement relates to their purported belief, not to their mind (which I cannot see). I claim, not that they don’t believe that, but that nobody can believe that, because it does not belong to the category of things that we can believe or not. We cannot believe or disbelieve the colour purple, because it does not belong to that category. Only what we call ‘propositions’, or ‘claims’ can belong to the category. To qualify as a proposition, a string of symbols or sounds must satisfy a long list of formal characteristics, including things like containing a verb. The colour purple does not count as a proposition, neither does the symbol string ‘nhjkn sdhg futf’ and neither, in my opinion, does the statement ‘I believe a God exists that will never again interact with the world’, or ‘there is a cup in that cupboard but there is no way we can ever detect that it is there’.

I hope I have at least partially convinced you that the ‘existence’ sense of ‘to be’ has no meaning. It may have a practical sense, as in ‘Unicorns do not longer exist’. But that just means I believe that, no matter whether we searched from here to kingdom come, we would never find a unicorn. If we want it to mean more than that, as those argumentative metaphysicians feel they do, we face disappointment.

If you still feel you believe otherwise, take this challenge: If you think the sentence ‘The cup is in the cupboard regardless of whether anyone can ever know that’ has meaning, ie qualifies as a ‘claim’, try to explain the difference between a world in which the claim holds and one in which it does not – without talking in circles.

“Identity”

This mode of use covers a multitude of sins. The above “This is Freya” really just communicates a name. No philosophical notion of identity gets carried along by it. We can think of it as an instruction: ‘When referring to this person, use the name “Freya” ’.

It gets more philosophical with statements like “George Orwell is Eric Blair”, or “Batman is Bruce Wayne”. Taking the first one, we know it means “The person known to his friends and family as Eric Blair wrote ‘1984’ and other famous works using the pseudonym ‘George Orwell’ ”. We could argue for ever about whether ‘Eric Blair’ means the same thing as ‘George Orwell’. I say it doesn’t. But such arguments count for nothing but idle amusement. We needn’t care about or wish to know anything other than that the man named Eric wrote under the pen-name George.

What about the mathematical concept of identity or equality? In mathematics we learn about ‘equations’ and ‘identities’, both of which use the equals sign ‘=’, which some people think of as resembling ‘is’. Let me show you an example:

x2 – 2x + 1 = 0

We might express that in words as ‘x is a number that, when we square the number, subtract twice the number from that and then add one, we get zero’. It tells us that the number to which we have given the alias ‘x’ has that property. Only one number has that property: the number 1. So the equation tells us that we gave the alias ‘x’ to the number 1.

Importantly, the equation does not say that the two things on either side of the equals sign “are” the same, ie “are identical”. Such a claim would make no sense. We can easily see the differences: for a start the thing on the left has seven characters excluding spaces, while the thing on the right has only one. A metaphysician might retort “But that’s just the labels. The two things with the different labels are the same.” To which I reply “can you explain what ‘are the same’ means?”. To which they can only answer “No”.

Mathematicians use the equals sign in two slightly different ways. I showed above the first way. We call that an ‘equation’ and we use it to work out what number x stands for.

We call the other use an ‘identity’. For example:

x2 – 2x + 1 = (x – 1)2

This holds true for any value of x, rather than just for a specific value that we want to find. We can easily explain the meaning of this equals sign in e-prime too. The identity says that, no matter what value x has, we will get the same result if we use that value to evaluate the left-hand side of the equation, as if we use it to evaluate the right-hand side.

It all works out simply, clearly and logically, as long as we don’t try to get metaphysical about it. If we do make the mistake of venturing into metaphysics, we find ourselves asking “Am I the same person that I was when I was five years old?”, to which we should reply “Come back when you can explain what your question means, and I’ll tell you the answer”.

Process metaphysics

I want to put in a plug for something called ‘process philosophy’. One might sum it up as something like “Things don’t ‘EXIST. They HAPPEN”. Or alternatively: “Objects? Bah! Stuff and nonsense. Only by thinking of the universe as a PROCESS can you begin to understand it”.

This notion goes back at least three thousand years. Heraclitus famously said “You can never step in the same river twice”. Alan Watts said something like “You ‘are’ just what the universe is doing at this particular place and time”. It delighted, but did not surprise me, to see that the above-linked Wikipedia article on process philosophy includes Alfred Korzybski – David Bourland’s mentor – in the list of paradigm-breaking thinkers that favoured this way of looking at things.

I’ll show another of my favourite quotes on process philosophy, from some famous physicist (I forget who): ‘an object is just a slow process’. I love that saying, even though it contains an ‘is’. I’d translate it into e-prime as the recommendation: “Think of objects as slow processes”.

Bertrand Russell’s chum, Alfred North Whitehead, wrote the most about process philosophy. I like some of what he wrote. But he did tend to get in over his head with word long, deep, abstract word salads of questionable meaning. I think Heraclitus and Watts said it better.

Let me tell you my plan

My dear, long-suffering readers – if any of you still remain – I appreciate your attention to this point. I expect the question gets ever louder in your mind: “Andrew! Do you have a point?

Well, thank you for asking! I do have a point, or at least I’ve managed to find a sort of a one in the course of this long, verbal ramble. The point takes the form of a plan. I made the plan only for me. But you may like to consider adopting some of it too. I will tell you what I plan to do, and why.

I plan to try my very best to eliminate uses of ‘to be’ in the ‘Existence’ and ‘Identity’ modes from my language. They cause nothing but trouble.

For the other six uses, I will aim to use them less, but with varying degrees of intensity. Let me list them in decreasing order of how intensely I will seek to avoid them:

  • I will most strenuously avoide the Auxiliary Passive. I can think of cases where that mode provides useful nuances: ‘He was bitten by a werewolf’ has a different feeling to ‘A werewolf bit him’ – it moves the focus from the biter to the one that suffered the bite. But I think we can achieve those nuances without using ‘to be’. I would say ‘He got bitten by a werewolf’. In primary school they taught me to avoid the words ‘get’ and ‘got’, and that I should regard them as vulgar. But I now feel old enough to disagree. I find them tremendously useful words, and for me, ‘got bitten’ describes the event much better than ‘was bitten’. Remember process philosophy. A bite happens. And no word communicates happeningness (process) better than ‘got’.
  • Location. Like Auxiliary Passive, this sounds too passive. I also find it too vague. The statement ‘The cat is on the mat’ doesn’t even tell us whether the cat still lives. It could refer to the cat’s corpse lying on the mat. So let us instead say ‘The sat sits on the mat’ (or even ‘is sitting’, since I do not propose to ban the Auxiliary Active) or ‘The cat’s corpse lies on the mat’.
  • Predication. I can’t see much excuse for this either. For me, ‘The cat has long fur’ and ‘You look red (or You’ve gotten sunburnt)’ work much better than ‘The cat is furry’ and ‘You are red’ (Hello Red, pleased to meet you!). In particular the ‘look’ forces acknowledgement that looks can deceive, and perhaps only a trick of the light makes me think you’ve gotten sunburnt. Plus, we’ve already covered how, for the sake of psychological balance and world peace, we must say ‘You are treating me nastily’ (please stop) rather than ‘You are nasty’ (condemnation and life sentence).
  • I have no objection to the Auxiliary Active type. I find it difficult to avoid, and trying to avoid it blocks fluency. Since the ‘am/is/are/was/were’ in such cases serves only as a connector and does not purport to have any formal meaning – any more than the “t” in the French “qu’a t’il dit” (“what has he said?”) means anything – we introduce no ambiguity by using it. Nevertheless, I find it more lively and direct to say ‘As she lay sleeping, the poisonous spider crawled over the mattress and up onto her cheek’ than ‘She was sleeping, when the poisonous spider …..’. Or perhaps ‘As she slept…’ works better still.
  • I’ve decided that Class Membership and Class Inclusion cause no harm. They have clear meanings and present no apparent potential for ambiguity. Further, translating sentences using those modes to e-prime can make sentences longer, as we saw with the above examples. I’ll relax about using those modes. But I’ll still keep an eye open for opportunities to replace them with an e-prime phrase when the latter sounds shorter and sweeter.

There you have it. Two modes banned. Three avoided where possible, and three avoided only when convenient. Perhaps I will call that strategy e-half-prime, since it would cut out only about half the uses of ‘to be‘ and its fellow travellers. Once I have mastered the skill of speaking and writing in e-half-prime, misunderstandings will no longer occur, wars will cease, universal joy and harmony will come ever closer.

I’ll let you know how I go. If it fares well, perhaps I can persuade you to join me. If not for the whole kit and kaboodle, perhaps just reducing your uses of ‘to be’, to give your language a fresher, clearer, more direct feel. Remember, if you can’t say it in e-half-prime, perhaps you’d better not say it (or at least you’d serve no purpose by saying it).

Try it. You might just like it.

And if it achieves nothing else, it will prevent us from ever saying that a child “is” naughty, that oneself “is” an inadequate failure, or that somebody, anybody, no matter how rotten their behaviour, “is” evil. Not Scott Morrison. Not Peter Dutton. Not even Donald Trump.

Andrew Kirk

Bondi Junction, October 2019

PS I have searched this essay for all uses of the various versions of ‘to be‘ that I could think of. I found plenty, and removed (translated) them. Perhaps I have missed some. If you find any, please let me know so that I may remove them. You will have my sincere gratitude.

PPS You can read some other people’s opinions on e-prime at the following links:



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