Advertisement
Supported by
A Linguist’s Guide to Quid Pro Quo
The Trump-Zelensky dialogue could be used in a textbook chapter on conversational analysis.
Two decades ago the impeachment of a president hinged on what the meaning of “is” is. This time it may depend on the semantics of “I would like you to do us a favor though.”
It would be bad enough if President Trump had merely expressed a desire to the Ukrainian president, Volodymyr Zelensky, that he investigate bogus corruption and conspiracy rumors about Mr. Trump’s political rivals. But if the request was tendered as an enticement or threat that military equipment approved by Congress would be forthcoming only if Mr. Zelensky complied, it could rise to the level of “bribery, treason, or other high crimes and misdemeanors.”
Even Mr. Trump, who is unrepentant about the request itself, acknowledges that a contingency would be incriminating. “There was no quid pro quo,” he has insisted. The lack of a quo for the quid has become a talking point among his defenders, like Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, who wrote on Twitter, “What a nothing (non-quid pro quo) burger.”
It’s true that the transcript of the reconstructed conversation does not reveal a smoking sentence with an “if” and a “then.” But to most readers, Mr. Trump’s claim that he was merely musing about his druthers does not pass the giggle test. That is because people in a social relationship rarely hammer out a deal in so many words but veil their offers in politeness and innuendo, counting on their hearers to listen between the lines.
People can certainly issue naked offers and threats. But the clarity of “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” or “Your money or your life” comes with costs. The exchange may be taboo, as in prostitution, bribery or extortion, and even when it is legitimate, overt deal-making can be disagreeable. Each side must hold the other to the terms of a hard bargain, sacrificing flexibility and making the relationship feel cold and transactional.
For these reasons people often cloak their exchanges in the trappings of a communal relationship, in which friends, relatives or comrades share goods unstintingly, with no one keeping track. Deals that are struck under the charade of a fictive friendship may have more forgiving terms, and the parties may throw in sweeteners to secure the other’s loyalty and cement the relationship.
Thus, businesspeople may treat their customers as faux friends. Conversely, casual companions (who often do have to exchange favors) take pains to avoid any impression that they are dickering for goodies or bossing each other around. They soften each other up with sympathetic banter and pleasantries. And they couch any request as an idle observation, such as “I was wondering if you could pass the salt,” knowing that the hearer will mentally fill in the premise that turns the non sequitur into a sequitur.
Often the genteel hint consists of a prerequisite to the favor. It makes no sense to ask someone to pass the salt if you already have the salt, if you don’t like salt or if the hearer is incapable of passing the salt. So by airing a thought like “There isn’t any salt down here,” “I could use some salt” or “Can you pass the salt?” a polite diner can plant the desired next step into the head of his tablemate and get what he wants without seeming to treat her like a flunky.
The Trump-Zelensky dialogue could be used in the chapter of a linguistic textbook on conversational analysis. The exchange begins with the two leaders cementing a communal relationship with fulsome congratulations and flattery and a celebration of their similarities and common interests. Mr. Trump abruptly steers the conversation to the prerequisites of calling in a favor. He reminds his interlocutor (three times) that the United States has been good to Ukraine, that Ukraine now is in need (“Things are happening that are not good”) and, with some token hedging, that America’s goodness remains to be repaid (“I wouldn’t say that it’s reciprocal necessarily”).
Announcing an undesirable state of affairs is a classic stratagem for asking the hearer to rectify it without the rudeness of an imperative. In an old joke, a couple is lying in bed and the wife says, “Murray, it’s cold outside.” Murray gets up, closes the window, and says, “So now it’s warm outside?” Mr. Trump is saying, “Volodymyr, it’s not reciprocal.” His partner can be counted on to know what he is being asked to do.
Mr. Zelensky shrewdly tries to even the balance sheet. Sounding more like someone repaying a favor than requesting one, he extends an offer: “I would also like to thank you for your great support in the area of defense. We are ready to continue to cooperate for the next steps. Specifically we are almost ready to buy more Javelins” — anti-tank weapons — “from the United States for defense purposes.” Though the sale is ostensibly to the benefit of both sides, Mr. Trump’s retort treats it as a perk granted to Ukraine: “I would like you to do us a favor though … ”
The word “though” signals a violated expectation. It means, “Something which you may think would have prevented this in fact failed to do so.” Mr. Trump is implying, “Notwithstanding Ukraine’s readiness to buy the Javelins — which you may think makes a further favor unnecessary — a favor by Ukraine is called for.” He reinforces the request by stating the prerequisites to a favor: The beneficiary needs it (“because our country has been through a lot”) and the benefactor is in a position to grant it (“Ukraine knows a lot about it”).
Throughout his presidency, Mr. Trump has habitually appealed to not-quite-plausible deniability, claiming that his various calls for abuse of power were made in jest. His supporters insist he should be taken “seriously but not literally.” Yet this time it may be the nonliteral meaning of his words that proves his undoing. The common-sense interpretation of his conversation makes it impossible for him to maintain, “I did not have quid pro quo relations with that man, Mr. Zelensky.”
Steven Pinker (@sapinker) is a professor of psychology at Harvard University and the author of “The Stuff of Thought: Language as a Window into Human Nature.”
The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.
Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.
Advertisement
No comments:
Post a Comment