The semantics of tragedy

The events of the last 24 hours, with Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 falling from the sky having been shot by a missile over the Ukraine, has raised again the semantic distinction between ‘accident’ and ‘crime’. One tweeter called it a ‘crime against humanity’ because of the ‘tens of AIDS researchers’ killed. Many tweets made reference to ‘the MH17 accident’, while others wanted to steer clear of that nomenclature:

JCH999: Has flight #MH17 been classified an accident now? All media are saying it "crashed" yet I'm pretty sure it was SHOT DOWN. BIG DIFFERENCE!

KJBar: PM on #MH17: 'This is not an accident. This is a crime. It was shot down. It did not crash.' http://tinyurl.com/pnemnfg v @abcnews

   shadowb0lt: Calling #MH17 an "accident" is a bad joke. This is nothing less than an abominable act of war.

sh1bumi: #MH17 recorded talks between Seperatists and Russian Gov: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BbyZYgSXdyw … Shooting was an accident

MarkTregonning: Where is #Abbott's evidence this is not an accident? That Russian-backed forces did it? He may be right-but evidence shld be given.

danielrhamilton: #MH17's crash is looking more like a crime than an accident. If so; what a wicked and evil act. The perpetrators must be found. #Ukraine

A ‘crime’ is “an action or omission which constitutes an offence and is punishable by law” (Oxford). An ‘accident’ is “an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly or unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury” or “an event that happens by chance or that is without apparent or deliberate cause” (Oxford). These definitions do not rule out an overlap between accident and crime, as the first definition of ‘accident’ could constitute a crime if it is something punishable by law.

Australian PM Tony Abbott was reported as saying adamantly that the MH17 incident was no accident (at least by the second definition above). Rather, he said, “it was shot down. It did not crash. It was downed, and it was downed over territory controlled by Russian-backed rebels. It was downed by a missile which seems to have been launched by Russian-backed rebels.”

Here, apart from in the second sentence, Abbott consistently uses verbs that express processes of deliberate action that require a ‘doer’ (Agent) - to shoot, to ‘down’. Only in the last clause does he specify the Agent: a missile.

A missile does not have its own volition. It must be operated by a human being. But Abbott is careful not to be too categorical about who the human being(s) might have been. He mentions them only as part of the description of the missile (which missile? one that seems to have been launched by Russian-backed rebels). And he chooses ‘seems to have been launched’ instead of ‘was launched’ to allow for the fact that the details of the incident are still quite hazy. He presents it as a suggestion or speculation rather than an assertion.

The potential human agents, ‘Russian-backed rebels’, are in turn identified by political affiliation (Russian-backed) and orientation to the law (rebels), rather than by any other feature or characteristic. This is perhaps not surprising as the perpetrators have not been specifically identified. But it is interesting that the action is construed politically, rather than morally. For example, Abbott could have chosen to say ‘a missile which seems to have been launched by irresponsible or careless or murderous individuals’.

Abbott’s construal of the event is as a non-accidental tragedy. An accident would not involve the sense of human volition or the use of processes that imply deliberate action. It may have been accidental in the sense that the perpetrators didn’t mean to shoot a commercial passenger plane, but the action of shooting itself was presumably not accidental. 

But as another tweeter pointed out, the labelling of a significant incident such as this as accident or not often depends largely on political agendas:

dellcam: U.S. agenda dictates response:

* #MH17: Not an accident.

* 4 kids children on #GazaBeach: A terrible accident.

My heart is grieved by this tragic loss of many lives, and I pray that God will bring comfort and peace to the families and friends of those who died and somehow turn this terrible situation to good. But let us not lose sight of other tragic losses of life, whether ‘accidental’ or not, that occur every day in other parts of the world where people don’t have the means, opportunity or ability to get on an aeroplane and go somewhere else.

A picture's worth a thousand words?

Recently I saw the film 'The Book Thief', based on the book by Australian author Markus Zusak. Perhaps you saw it too. I enjoyed it despite the grim moments, and especially loved the wonderful characters and warm, quirky humour. But I had read the book, and there was something missing - as there often is when the book becomes a film.

When I read the book, I was struck by the many fascinating turns of phrase, the way words seemed to have been carefully chosen to stop you in your tracks as you were reading so that you would pay attention to the description and let it sit with you.

Here's an extract from the first chapter:

Of course, an introduction.

            A beginning.

Where are my manners?

I could introduce myself properly, but it’s not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.

At that moment, you will be lying there (I rarely find people standing up). You will be caked in your own body. There might be a discovery; a scream will dribble down the air. The only sound I’ll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps. (p.4)

The sections in bold are what I'm talking about - words put together (the technical terms is 'collocations') that are quite unusual, often because the verb typically calls for a particular kind of noun to be the 'do-er' or the 'done-to', but the noun chosen is of a different kind that would not normally be considered a good fit. It's not enough just to put a noun with a verb - under normal circumstances, you have to choose the right kind of noun with particular semantic properties in order for it to work well with the verb. But in literature, the writer can exploit and subvert these conventions in order to make very particular or vivid meanings.

'A color [excuse the American spelling] will be perched on my shoulder.' 'To perch' is a particular kind of verb that generally calls for a very tangible thing to do the perching - for example, a bird is the thing you would usually expect to find perched on someone's shoulder. Sometimes a building is said to be perched on a cliff top or other precarious position. But a 'colour' - that is certainly not a tangible thing. Colour is an abstract quality. So we can differentiate between two categories of nouns - concrete and abstract. Some verbs need a concrete noun, whereas others can take either abstract or concrete.

I'm still not sure what it means for the narrator (spoiler alert: the narrator is 'Death') to say that a colour will be perched on his shoulder. Perhaps Zusak means for us to be confused there - after all, we can't yet know what it will be like when we die. Or perhaps he's trying to make 'colour' more tangible here by its association with the verb 'to perch'.

A similar thing is happening with 'a scream will dribble down the air'. With the verb 'to dribble', we expect the thing that dribbles to be concrete, and more specifically, something liquidy. You can see now how specific the requirements of the verb can be in terms of what kinds of nouns are 'allowed' to hang around with it. But 'a scream'? - it's neither liquid nor concrete.

Likewise, the phrase 'down the air' subverts our expectations. We expect that if something dribbles, it will dribble down a tangible surface, such as a wall or window. But 'the air' is not a surface and so the whole clause jars you as you read. As I ponder it, I get a very vivid image of the way the sound of the scream might make an initial impact and then gradually die away, leaving some kind of mental or emotional trace, as liquid dribbling down a surface leaves a trace.

I expect it would be very difficult, no matter how good the screenplay, to capture in film the meanings made by these unusual collocations. There are lots of these examples in the book where abstract things are collocated with verbs that usually require concrete things, and the thing about abstract things is that they are abstract. That is, they are harder to convey in the visual medium of film, without using the original wording somehow in spoken or written language as part of the film. A picture may be worth a thousand words; but where the words precede the picture, there may be no picture worthy of the words.  

References

Zusak, M. (2008) The Book Thief. Sydney: Picador/Pan Macmillan.