T C A Srinivasa-Raghavan: Of columns and columnists

LINE & LENGTH

Back in 1990, on a visit to the US, I went to see Paul Samuelson, the father of modern mathematical economics. While we were talking, a student opened the door and said, “Hi Paul, will you give this to Raawbert?” and left a book on the table. The Raawbert in question was Robert Solow, another Nobel-winning economist. Prof. Samuelson must have seen the look on my face, and said, “Unlike in yours, in our country human capital depreciates very rapidly.”

I tell this story because I, too, firmly believe that since human capital does depreciate rapidly, it should be allowed to do so. In other words, there must be an inverse proportionality, with a suitable upper and lower bound, of course, between the ages of persons and the number of times we allow them to air their views. So, consistent with this view, I have decided that this is going to be my last column for this newspaper. Hopefully some 40-year-old will fill this space from next month onwards.

 

Over the years many people have asked why I called the column “Line and Length”. Apart from the obvious reason, I thought that as with good bowling, the term captures, perfectly, the essence of good writing as well, namely, stick to the basics while varying the flight or, in the case of writing, style. The first column bearing this name appeared a few days after India exited the 1992 World Cup in cricket.

For the first 11 years, this was a weekly column, and, as is usual with all those who write every week, I have also written a fair amount of nonsense. But once in a while I would inadvertently slip in a good one. But as Mark Antony said in another context, the good stuff tends to be forgotten. That is a risk that all colunmists run.

But this would not have been possible but for one thing. I can say without any doubt at all in my mind that this newspaper is an absolute heaven for columnists. The freedom to express your views, in any way you like except abusively, is unparalleled.

The one thing that all columnists discover — or should discover — is that no matter how carefully and precisely they write, readers mostly tend to get a slightly different meaning from the one they intended to convey. Some even get the opposite meaning. Psychologists probably have an explanation for this phenomenon. If not, they should examine the problem because it is not confined to newspaper columns alone. Perhaps this is because on average, when the reader does bother to read what you have written, he spends no more than a couple of minutes on it.

Some columnists get persuaded —against their better judgement, I must hope — to bring out anthologies of their writings. Nothing is more embarrassing than this because newspaper columns are reactions, not fully considered judgements. As such, unless the context is fully explained in the anthologies — which would double the size of the book — the exercise is completely pointless, and the temptation to make yourself immortal through this somewhat suspect means should be avoided.

Another trap that columnists fall into — as I have found myself doing of late — is to say “As I wrote in my column years ago” (or last month or last week). They forget, as indeed I was beginning to do, that if you write so much you are bound to have mentioned, at some time or another, something from the universe of finite possibilities regarding that topic. When this starts to happen, it is time to say “ok tata, bye-bye”.

I also think columnists can be divided into three categories. The first comprises those who explain; the second comprises those who campaign; and the third comprises those who say absolutely nothing and write only for visibility or income. Try this test and you will learn whom to read and whom to avoid.

Many non-journalists try to make too many points in one column of 800 or 1,000 words, and that can be as fatal as saying nothing. The golden rule to follow is one point per column. If you do that you will be ok.

Also, most academics are terrible at writing columns. And, in my experience, they are also poor learners. Ex-civil servants also make very poor columnists. Their preference for the “après moi le déluge” and their amazing capacity for the anodyne make their literary efforts both irritating and incomprehensible. Just do a survey and you’ll see.

Do professional journalists write better columns than non-journalists? By and large, yes. Perhaps it has something to do with their training before they are offered columns, namely, make a point, quickly and sharply. Whatever the reason, if you took a sample of 10 best columnists, I do believe that seven would be journalists.

So what’s all this adding up to? Just the old chestnut: it is better to go when they will ask why, rather than when they begin to ask why not.