[silk] Deracinating the Evidence, in the Language of the Courts
This isn't just a case of Inglish. Do Justices get paid by the word (or as we used to say in college, I wrote 50 pages... at a mark a page, I am sure to pass)? Are the law clerks who write these opinions the real culprits behind the wanton use of a Thesaurus? I know silklist has a handful of lawyers. It'd be interesting to hear their theories. http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/12/23/deracinating-the-evidence-in-the-language-of-the-courts/?_r=1pagewanted=print Deracinating the Evidence, in the Language of the CourtsBy DILIP D'SOUZAhttp://india.blogs.nytimes.com/author/dilip-dsouza/ For several weeks now, Indian courts have been making news, most recently with the Supreme Court decision that made homosexuality illegal again. Given how high-profile these cases are, the court orders were examined and dissected much more than is usual. At a panel discussion I was at last week, for example, one participant used gaps in the discussion to pore over her copy of a Goa court’s rejection of the Tehelka editor Tarun Tejpal’s anticipatory bail plea in a sexual assault casehttp://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/01/world/asia/indian-editor-arrest.html, whispering in my ear about it from time to time. Such examination is all good, I believe, and not least because we learn about the enigmatic language these judgments often use. Take for example, the verdict in the Aarushi Talwar case, delivered by a Central Bureau of Investigation Special Court in Ghaziabad, outside Delhi. In 2008, someone murdered young Aarushi in her Delhi home, along with her family’s domestic help, Hemraj Banjade. Five years of convoluted proceedings ended sensationally in November, when the court foundhttp://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/11/25/couple-convicted-of-murdering-teen-daughter-and-domestic-help/ Aarushi’s dentist parents, Rajesh and Nupur Talwar, guilty of both murders and sentenced them to life in prison. There are plenty of questions about the evidence and legal logic in this case, but of that, another time. The judgment caught the eye for another reason, or really plenty of them. Consider some excerpts from just the first few paragraphs: “Dr. Rajesh Talwar and Dr. Nupur Talwar … have been arraigned for committing and secreting as also deracinating the evidence of commission of the murder of their own adolescent daughter – a beaut [sic] damsel and sole heiress Aarushi and hapless domestic aide Hemraj, who … attended routinely to the chores of domestic drudgery … [They] were bludgeoned and thereafter jugulated to death.” “[T]here is nothing to suggest that intruder(s) perpetrated this fiendish and flagitious crime.” “Dr. Rajesh Talwar delated the matter with the Police Station.” Let’s pause there. You get a sense of the brutality of the killings, sure, but it is matched, even enhanced, by a certain rhythmic floridity (“committing and secreting as also deracinating”) in the language. My New Oxford American dictionary describes “deracinate” as a “poetic/literary” term, and both “jugulate” and “delate” as “archaic.” “Flagitious” is neither, but is terminally obscure. So how did these terms find their way into this judgment? There’s plenty more to wonder at too, and not just the strange words. Again and again in the judgment’s 200 pages, you will run into turns of phrase that are, shall we just say, peculiar. (“To repeat at the cost of repetition …” “[A witness came] to her house on hearing boohoo.”) Why use such language? It wasn’t always so. Judgments from an earlier era could be just as long, but the language was generally clearer, simpler. Take even these prosaic lines from a 1950 Supreme Court judgment: ” ‘Public safety’ ordinarily means security of the public or their freedom from danger. … The meaning of the expression must, however, vary according to the context. … [It] may well mean securing the public against rash driving on a public way and the like, and not necessarily the security of the State.” No real puzzle in that paragraph. And often enough, there were hints of elegant humor as well. Like a Bombay High Court judgment delivered a year before India won freedom: “[T]he learned Judge had before him evidence on which he was entitled to hold that the eyes of the Second Kumar were brownish, and therefore similar to the eyes of the plaintiff.” What kind of evidence, we might forever wonder, would “entitle” a judge “to hold that the eyes … were brownish”? But in the decades since, Indian jurisprudence has built a formidable reputation — as you see, perhaps it rubs off on me — for hard-to-follow language and intensive use made of thesaurii. There are words never ordinarily spoken, verbosity often straight out of left field. At times, it’s difficult not to think that some of it is used merely to induce head-scratching. For example, in a 1970 Supreme Court judgmenthttp://www.legalcrystal.com/641198 about film censorship, we find these lines: “Our standards must be so framed that we are not reduced to a level where the
Re: [silk] Deracinating the Evidence, in the Language of the Courts
I can also recommend a really interesting book called The Language of the Law on how legalese evolved ... Ashok On Mon, Dec 23, 2013 at 11:58 PM, ashok_ listmans...@gmail.com wrote: IANAL but I have worked with a lot of legislation and legal judgments. Its not just indian judgments that read like that - it seems to be the case across the board, for instance, I saw some translated palestinian court judgments where some paragraphs were not translated and marked as omissis (deliberate omissions), when I asked was told these were long flowery texts part of the original case filing - and were merely repeating what had been already said before (but in 10 sentences instead of 1), so the translators decided to omit it. This appeared to be related to the business of court filing fees which were charged based on the length of the document - it was beneficial to both the lawyer and the courts - since the court charged the fees based on length of the filing ... and the lawyer of course charged per page. Perhaps that explains the longer judgments ? On Mon, Dec 23, 2013 at 6:51 PM, Thaths tha...@gmail.com wrote: This isn't just a case of Inglish. Do Justices get paid by the word (or as we used to say in college, I wrote 50 pages... at a mark a page, I am sure to pass)? Are the law clerks who write these opinions the real culprits behind the wanton use of a Thesaurus? I know silklist has a handful of lawyers. It'd be interesting to hear their theories. http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/12/23/deracinating-the-evidence-in-the-language-of-the-courts/?_r=1pagewanted=print Deracinating the Evidence, in the Language of the CourtsBy DILIP D'SOUZAhttp://india.blogs.nytimes.com/author/dilip-dsouza/ For several weeks now, Indian courts have been making news, most recently with the Supreme Court decision that made homosexuality illegal again. Given how high-profile these cases are, the court orders were examined and dissected much more than is usual. At a panel discussion I was at last week, for example, one participant used gaps in the discussion to pore over her copy of a Goa court’s rejection of the Tehelka editor Tarun Tejpal’s anticipatory bail plea in a sexual assault case http://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/01/world/asia/indian-editor-arrest.html, whispering in my ear about it from time to time. Such examination is all good, I believe, and not least because we learn about the enigmatic language these judgments often use. Take for example, the verdict in the Aarushi Talwar case, delivered by a Central Bureau of Investigation Special Court in Ghaziabad, outside Delhi. In 2008, someone murdered young Aarushi in her Delhi home, along with her family’s domestic help, Hemraj Banjade. Five years of convoluted proceedings ended sensationally in November, when the court found http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/11/25/couple-convicted-of-murdering-teen-daughter-and-domestic-help/ Aarushi’s dentist parents, Rajesh and Nupur Talwar, guilty of both murders and sentenced them to life in prison. There are plenty of questions about the evidence and legal logic in this case, but of that, another time. The judgment caught the eye for another reason, or really plenty of them. Consider some excerpts from just the first few paragraphs: “Dr. Rajesh Talwar and Dr. Nupur Talwar … have been arraigned for committing and secreting as also deracinating the evidence of commission of the murder of their own adolescent daughter – a beaut [sic] damsel and sole heiress Aarushi and hapless domestic aide Hemraj, who … attended routinely to the chores of domestic drudgery … [They] were bludgeoned and thereafter jugulated to death.” “[T]here is nothing to suggest that intruder(s) perpetrated this fiendish and flagitious crime.” “Dr. Rajesh Talwar delated the matter with the Police Station.” Let’s pause there. You get a sense of the brutality of the killings, sure, but it is matched, even enhanced, by a certain rhythmic floridity (“committing and secreting as also deracinating”) in the language. My New Oxford American dictionary describes “deracinate” as a “poetic/literary” term, and both “jugulate” and “delate” as “archaic.” “Flagitious” is neither, but is terminally obscure. So how did these terms find their way into this judgment? There’s plenty more to wonder at too, and not just the strange words. Again and again in the judgment’s 200 pages, you will run into turns of phrase that are, shall we just say, peculiar. (“To repeat at the cost of repetition …” “[A witness came] to her house on hearing boohoo.”) Why use such language? It wasn’t always so. Judgments from an earlier era could be just as long, but the language was generally clearer, simpler. Take even these prosaic lines from a 1950 Supreme Court judgment: ” ‘Public safety’ ordinarily means security of the public or their freedom from danger. … The meaning of the expression must, however, vary
Re: [silk] Deracinating the Evidence, in the Language of the Courts
A judge with a hazy grasp of the law, and also not particularly comfortable with english, and faced with multiple examples of brilliantly worded judgements from jurists over centuries, might be the explanation here. He would quite likely have a compulsive wish to try and emulate his illustrious peers by the simple expedient of stuffing in as many words from rogets thesaurus as he can find, in an attempt to justify the common ephitet learned judge --srs (iPad) On 24-Dec-2013, at 2:29, ashok_ listmans...@gmail.com wrote: I can also recommend a really interesting book called The Language of the Law on how legalese evolved ... Ashok On Mon, Dec 23, 2013 at 11:58 PM, ashok_ listmans...@gmail.com wrote: IANAL but I have worked with a lot of legislation and legal judgments. Its not just indian judgments that read like that - it seems to be the case across the board, for instance, I saw some translated palestinian court judgments where some paragraphs were not translated and marked as omissis (deliberate omissions), when I asked was told these were long flowery texts part of the original case filing - and were merely repeating what had been already said before (but in 10 sentences instead of 1), so the translators decided to omit it. This appeared to be related to the business of court filing fees which were charged based on the length of the document - it was beneficial to both the lawyer and the courts - since the court charged the fees based on length of the filing ... and the lawyer of course charged per page. Perhaps that explains the longer judgments ? On Mon, Dec 23, 2013 at 6:51 PM, Thaths tha...@gmail.com wrote: This isn't just a case of Inglish. Do Justices get paid by the word (or as we used to say in college, I wrote 50 pages... at a mark a page, I am sure to pass)? Are the law clerks who write these opinions the real culprits behind the wanton use of a Thesaurus? I know silklist has a handful of lawyers. It'd be interesting to hear their theories. http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/12/23/deracinating-the-evidence-in-the-language-of-the-courts/?_r=1pagewanted=print Deracinating the Evidence, in the Language of the CourtsBy DILIP D'SOUZAhttp://india.blogs.nytimes.com/author/dilip-dsouza/ For several weeks now, Indian courts have been making news, most recently with the Supreme Court decision that made homosexuality illegal again. Given how high-profile these cases are, the court orders were examined and dissected much more than is usual. At a panel discussion I was at last week, for example, one participant used gaps in the discussion to pore over her copy of a Goa court’s rejection of the Tehelka editor Tarun Tejpal’s anticipatory bail plea in a sexual assault case http://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/01/world/asia/indian-editor-arrest.html, whispering in my ear about it from time to time. Such examination is all good, I believe, and not least because we learn about the enigmatic language these judgments often use. Take for example, the verdict in the Aarushi Talwar case, delivered by a Central Bureau of Investigation Special Court in Ghaziabad, outside Delhi. In 2008, someone murdered young Aarushi in her Delhi home, along with her family’s domestic help, Hemraj Banjade. Five years of convoluted proceedings ended sensationally in November, when the court found http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/11/25/couple-convicted-of-murdering-teen-daughter-and-domestic-help/ Aarushi’s dentist parents, Rajesh and Nupur Talwar, guilty of both murders and sentenced them to life in prison. There are plenty of questions about the evidence and legal logic in this case, but of that, another time. The judgment caught the eye for another reason, or really plenty of them. Consider some excerpts from just the first few paragraphs: “Dr. Rajesh Talwar and Dr. Nupur Talwar … have been arraigned for committing and secreting as also deracinating the evidence of commission of the murder of their own adolescent daughter – a beaut [sic] damsel and sole heiress Aarushi and hapless domestic aide Hemraj, who … attended routinely to the chores of domestic drudgery … [They] were bludgeoned and thereafter jugulated to death.” “[T]here is nothing to suggest that intruder(s) perpetrated this fiendish and flagitious crime.” “Dr. Rajesh Talwar delated the matter with the Police Station.” Let’s pause there. You get a sense of the brutality of the killings, sure, but it is matched, even enhanced, by a certain rhythmic floridity (“committing and secreting as also deracinating”) in the language. My New Oxford American dictionary describes “deracinate” as a “poetic/literary” term, and both “jugulate” and “delate” as “archaic.” “Flagitious” is neither, but is terminally obscure. So how did these terms find their way into this judgment? There’s plenty more to wonder at too, and not just the strange words. Again and again
