Uncleftish Beholding

In 1989, the science-fiction author Poul Anderson wrote a short essay titled “Uncleftish Beholding”. It’s an example of what English might have looked like (applied to science) if it did not use any loanwords derived from French, Greek, and Latin.

If you’ve never heard of it, I strongly recommend skimming it here before you continue reading this blog post.

Okay, you’ve read through the essay? (Or at least skimmed it?)

You can likely guess from the opening paragraph that it has to do with elements and the building blocks of matter. “Uncleftish Beholding”, which sounds like Olde English, directly translates to “Atomic Theory”. In Greek, the atom is defined as that which cannot be divided. To be cleft is to be broken apart – thus, Un-cleft-ish corresponds to a-tom-ic. Behold! Think about it!

I discuss definition of an atom on the first day of any introductory college chemistry course I’ve taught. Given most of my students have had a decent high school science education, the phrase “Atomic Theory” holds no surprises. They know we’ll be discussing small bits of stuff in a framework that sorta hangs together. Every single one of my students comes to class having already believed matter is composed of atoms. (I ask.) Or at least no one seems brave enough to deny it on Day One when they’re still trying to figure out who their strange professor is. I try to impress upon my students how surprising it is that they all see the picture below and immediately think of water; their education system has successfully indoctrinated them!

If you ask the person-on-the-street what is Atomic Theory, a range of responses might be elicited. For example, the word “atomic” refers to nuclear weapns – the atom bomb – certainly to some generations. And what is a “theory”? A non-scientist might think a theory is a fanciful opinion when you don’t know if something is a fact. But if the two words are coupled together (“atomic theory”), I’m guessing the typical guess will equate “theory” to knowledge. Thus, Atomic Theory relates to the knowledge we have about nuclear weapons, and then by extension, nuclear energy and related stuff. So, while my students sitting in chemistry class, are primed to interpret Atomic Theory correctly in their context, the person-on-the-street might think differently.

Returning to Uncleftish Beholding, we read of “firststuffs” (elements) existing as “motes” (tiny bits) called “unclefts” (atoms). Unclefts can link together to form “bulkbits” (molecules) by forming “bindings” (chemical bonds). Thus, water consists of two “waterstuff” (hydro-gen) unclefts and one “sourstuff” (oxy-gen, or acid-producer) unclefts. The element carbon is “coalstuff”; nitrogen is “chokestuff”. What a pain it is to wade through this stuffy jargon-laden language!

I learned about Uncleftish Beholding through Don’t Believe a Word, a new book by the journalist David Shariatmadari. The author does a wonderful job bringing to the fore issues in linguistics to people-on-the-street like me. I only took one non-science free elective in college, Intro to Linguistics. It was a fascinating class that focused on sound production and syntax, popular topics in the field at the time. Anyway, I recommend Shariatmadari’s book to anyone interested in the play of language – it’s very engaging!

Uncleftish Beholding reminded me of an exercise three years ago where a visiting professor introduced the “Montillation of Traxoline”. I won’t reveal what it means if you’ve never heard of it, but it reminds us teachers how much jargon we use and that we need to give our students time to assimilate our scientific terminology. It will help them as they progress through class, but we need to introduce it thoughtfully and systematically – and not too much at one time.

While my students have heard of elements, atoms, protons, and neutrons, some of them may not have heard of (or may not remember) Isotopes. In Uncleft Beholding, these are “samesteads”. This isn’t too challenging for students to digest, and most of them figure it out pretty quickly after a few sample questions. On the other hand, when we start discussing different types of Isomers, there are many glazed looks – especially since these all have jargony names – constitutional isomers, stereoisomers, diastereomers, enantiomers, epimers, anomers, etc. I recently sat in on a biochemistry survey course (where O-Chem is not a pre-requisite) and the students struggled a bit to figure out these bits.

I learned science in a different language. Scientific terms were cumbersome. Some were brand new terms. Others were derived from familiar words with shades of Uncleft Beholding. I couldn’t figure out the difference between matter and mass; the two words looked even more similar than their English equivalents – until I re-learned the terms in English. I’m not sure I would have persisted in science if I did not leave my home country and learn science in English. I had no clue what was going on in my two years of secondary school chemistry.

Reflecting on how I think about chemistry today, it’s a combination of words, pictures, and abstract ideas. I effortlessly glide across the three points of Johnstone’s Triangle – the macroscopic, microscopic, and symbolic. I recognize immediately that carbon is central in CO₂, nitrogen in both N₂O and NO₂, and that two of these molecules are linear and one is bent; two have a net dipole but one (which is linear) does not. Sometimes we write chemical formulae alphabetically, sometimes we do not. Sometimes we split up a formula (CH₃COOH instead of C₂H₄O) and sometimes we do not. I’ve a pretty good idea what happens when you mix different molecules – if they will react and how. But all this knowledge has been built up over years of experience. It’s obvious to me. But not to students taking their first chemistry class where stuff might resemble Uncleftish Beholding.

Ah, the power of language! It can illuminate or obscure. We should be thoughtful in its handling and how we communicate.