Having often contributed to The Daily Princetonian on contemporary social issues of great moment, we nonetheless sense an obligation in conscience to opine on the most pressing question of our day (admittedly, it was a relatively boring day). Our appeal extends to every Princetonian of will, good or ill.
When Princeton's painfully prolonged exam period has passed, we shall be granted one week of joy, free of the shadows cast by undone assignments and posturing peers. But as we approach this temporal garden of repose, the question remains: How shall we name it?
It is the mark of our species to establish dominion by naming. Adam made known his rule over each animal not by slaying it but by naming it. Every exorcist begins the attack on his diabolical foe by naming it. According to a modern psychoanalytic conceit, an ill man wins half the battle against his neurosis by naming it (though most of ours already have names). Consequently, our bliss during this approaching vacation will be false and our serenity undeserved if we do not first settle the question of its title — if we do not first name it.
Yet in this age of unreflective orthographic relativism — when sound "judgement" loses its ubiquity even as it gains that extraneous "e," and the correct spelling of a word is traded for "my" spelling and "your" spelling — we proudly stand up for the objectivity of spelling and the spelling of "objectivity." Briticisms like "colour" and "cheque" aside, there is one correct English spelling of most words, and we ought not to pretend otherwise even in the name of diversity. To those who agree that spelling is objective but wish not to "impose" their grammar on others, we object: Scholars of antiquity have correlated the rise and fall of civilizations with their linguistic diligence. Orthographic error has no rights: To tolerate it is to degenerate.
Thus, we must not shirk our responsibility to name our break — and spell it well. Here ends the cordial agreement and begins the controversy. Though we believe that there is a universal truth of the matter, we recognize that reasonable people of good will have taken issue with our view. Consequently, it is our intention to outline their case before utterly demolishing it in favor of ours.
Dean of the College Nancy Malkiel and her peons at the Registrar's Office have inscribed on our academic calendar, registrar1.princeton.edu/acad/acad0F.pdf, an "intercession break." (Consider the sad irony that, as we shall prove, such an orthographic anachronism should appear on our calendar.) The ski team, relegated to campus obscurity no doubt because of its grammatical negligence, advertises its "intercession" trip to the mountains, www.princeton.edu/~skiteam/Intercession.html/. The Nassoons' website tells of their "intercession" tour, www.princeton.edu/~nassoons/5history/DecadePages/1970s.html. And the Firestone Reserve Library, a putative repository of knowledge, blithely reports online its "intercession" hours, www.princeton.edu/~reserve/sphours.html. These orthographically challenged groups really do need all the intercession that they can secure. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Is there an argument? Do they have a valid explanation?
No, they do not. This small but valiantly contrarian crowd is taking its cue perhaps from "procession" (what goes forward) and "recession" (what goes backward). These hapless souls infer that "intercession" must mean "what goes between," as in, between semesters. This is, according to the common saying, true as far as it goes. But in this case that is not far at all — no farther than the 17th century, in fact. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the usage of "intercession" for something interposed between two things has been obsolete for more than 300 years.
Even if we granted the strict etymological adequateness of "intercession" to designate our break, which is indeed interposed between two things, this would surely remain less precise than "intersession," whose usage, we insist, should be normative. On its best (though historically naive) reading, "intercession" signifies just one indeterminate thing lying between two other indeterminate things. "Intersession," on the other hand, means, precisely, "between sessions." This succinctly indicates the boundaries of our break — two semesters — and thereby further specifies it as one temporal reality between two others. The term "intersession" is correct, precise and current. The alternative is imprecise and tragically anachronistic. It should not be tolerated.
If our brilliantly reasoned argument fails to enlighten your intellect, dulled perhaps by years of "intercessory" indoctrination and pagan relativism, consider this bald appeal to raw authority: University spokeswoman Cass Cliatt has assured us that despite the flagrant error on the academic calendar, "the official description for this break is 'intersession.' " We win. Join us. Enjoin others. Enjoy break. Name it — correctly.
Sherif Girgis '08 is a philosophy major from Dover, Del. and can be contacted at sgirgis@Princeton.edu. Tom Haine '08 is a history major from Alton, Ill. and can be contacted at thaine@Princeton.edu.
