Have you ever stopped to consider the power that lives in certain words?  As a writer, I can assure you that I have, but I stumbled across this lesson long before I started seriously putting words down on paper.  I discovered the power of words through use of one of the shortest in the English language … the word “if”.

Laden with possibilities, the addition of that one little word instantly transforms the meaning of an entire sentence, leaving the listener or reader to suddenly question their understanding or to apply caveats to how they might have otherwise interpreted any given statement.  “Are you going to the Post Office?” One might ask.  “I will, if I have time.”  Might be the altogether unhelpful answer, leading to the original questioner to wonder, is he or isn’t he going?  One word, one two-letter word, changed the answer from a clear, solid, “yes” to something that imparts confusion or an assumed, poorly defined future decision.

I stumbled upon the power of this word completely by accident early on in my studies of the Korean language.  Having heard that language spoken—and translated back and forth into English—for many years, it always bothered me that I had to heavily accent the word “if” to forestall having to state it several times later trying to correct a misunderstanding.  “No, I said if, if we get fired!”  It wasn’t till I realized that the same grammatic construct in the Korean language is much bigger than a simple two-letter word—essentially altering the structure of the entire sentence and bringing tons of attention to the implied change in meaning—that I began to understand why it is so often missed when spoken to them in English.  That phenomenon is similar in Japanese, though not quite as extreme, as both Asian languages seem to recognize something that the crafters of English did not … you can’t let such an impactful word go unnoticed.

“If” changes everything, doesn’t it?  It also leaves an awful lot unsaid, making it a fascinatingly useful term for diplomacy—essentially the art of not saying what you’re saying.  In the 4th Century BC, Philip II, father of Alexander the Great, wrote a letter to the Spartans as part of his campaign to bring the Greek city-states under Macedonian rule.  Philip wrote “You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city…”  Wow!  And coming from Philip, you’d think people would take seriously all the ugliness threatened by the rising Macedonian power.  Yet the Spartans, laconic as always, replied with a single word, “…If…”  Talk about your ancient drop the mike moment!  You can almost hear the way-too-serious Spartans giggling as they handed it off to a messenger.  It begs comparison to the 101st Airborne Division’s response to calls from the Germans to surrender at Bastogne, “Nuts!”  What a wonderful, naturally cinematic moment in history with few true parallels.  And, for what it’s worth, Philip left Sparta alone.

That our words have power is undisputed, but sometimes I think we underestimate just how much.  There are single words that can set off fierce firestorms of debate with their simple utterance, even absent the context that made them so controversial in the first place.  Yet the power of “if” transcends that, doesn’t it?  The word itself carries no negative connotations at all.  Nobody or group of people were ever “iffed” by another.  No “ifs” can be blamed for the state of world affairs today.  No “if” ever made him or herself infamous through some despicable act that forever stains the name “if”.  It carries a different kind of power altogether, the power to change, with two taps on a keyboard or touchscreen, the meaning of any sentence uttered in English.  “Will you marry me?” … (awkward pause) … “I will … if you change everything about yourself.”  What follows the “if” changes everything for the poor guy holding the ring, doesn’t it?  And makes for a VERY long balloon ride.

More importantly to me, at least, is the uncertainty presented by the introduction of “if” into an equation.  We’ve all heard the presentation of some future planning effort end with “… and if all goes well, we’ll be sitting pretty.”  Really?!?  WHEN, exactly, does ALL go well???  Have you not lived life?  Have you ever even heard of Murphy’s Law?  “All” never goes right!  Something always goes wrong somewhere along the way.  I’d much rather hear the planner say something like “… and if something goes wrong, here’s what we’re going to do…”  Now you’re taking the uncertainty into account and planning against the “if”.  You’re not letting that cute little word trick you into wearing rose-colored glasses and bumbling your way through whatever endeavor is being attempted.  Now you’re taking charge, allowing your imagination to take in all that might be implied by “if” and using it to your advantage.

Okay … so I’ve now spent 835 words talking about two letters.  Some might chalk that up to inflation!  Yet the point I’m laboring to make here is that words matter.  Words make a difference.  The right words can achieve so much while the wrong ones can undercut the speaker’s or writer’s intent, leaving only confusion in their wake.  In this world of easy, digital communications, it’s hard to keep this in mind, I think, but evidence of poor word choice is on display nearly every day.  When a single message might take three months by horse and ship to reach its destination, the drafter was expected to be careful in their choice of words.  After all, you can’t easily recall a message like that.  But today … well … I think we’ve become a lot less careful, knowing we can simply correct any error and move on.

So, I guess what I’m really urging here is to be careful with the words you use … if you want to find success in life.

M. G. Haynes