Pascal once observed, “Words differently arranged have a different meaning, and meanings differently arranged have a different effect” (qtd in Denham and Lobeck 330). In our literate society, those who work with words for their bread and butter—teachers, politicians, journalists—know well how important these arrangements are, but we who sit in their classrooms, vote for them at the polls, or read their reports of world events, may not.

We became literate by first learning letters, then combining those letters into words, and finally ordering those words into sentences. Grammar, our teachers called it, and learning this system sometimes got tedious because of its complexity and detail.

Yet when we grow up and enter the world where words are wielded, we find that grammar, far from being only dry, prescriptive rules that govern language, is a tool people use to try to express ideas: choosing words and constructing sentences to achieve an effect—to persuade, inform, or inspire.

Grammar is inextricably woven into the interchange of ideas; Robin Lakoff explains that “Once we understand the relation between the [linguistic] forms we encounter and the functions they perform, language that is not obviously persuasive (e.g., forms ostensibly used for education or information) can be properly identified as persuasive and indeed manipulative and controlling” (310).

Here Lakoff is particularly concerned with the ways in which language could be used to oppress. But by saying this, she affirms this idea that those who work with words can use grammar to create a particular effect that best conveys their message—and through this communication, accomplish whatever it is they want their audience to believe or do.

Here's an example.

Ellen Rockmore, in her recent review of history curriculum in Texas public schools, complained that the textbook authors misrepresent historical injustice. As an undergraduate writing professor, she says what caught her attention was the authors’ use of the passive voice. When describing slaves’ positive experiences, they and their owners are the actors in the sentences: “Some slaves reported that their masters treated them kindly. To protect their investment, some slaveholders provided adequate food and clothing for their slaves” (Rockmore).

The actors disappear, though, when the more unpleasant side of slavery is mentioned: “However, severe treatment was very common. Whippings, brandings, and even worse torture were all part of American slavery” (Rockmore). This change in voice could, arguably, be unintentional. More likely, however, the careful wording attempts to cover the brutality that slaves often suffered.

Rockmore suggests that the textbook publishers chose to present slavery more positively to appease a politically conservative constituency, and concludes, “Though we don’t always recognize it, grammatical choices can be moral choices, and these publishers made the wrong ones” (Rockmore). Freighting sentence construction with moral implications is a serious charge.

Yet in a setting like the classroom, where children’s awareness of the past is still impressionable, the official framing of history, even in grammar, makes an enormous difference in the way students view past conflicts—and how they will understand how present repercussions of those conflicts.

Looking at the context of the Texan conservative political setting makes the grammatical choices in their history curriculum significant; in this setting, the political viewpoint may influence—and distort—the retelling of history.

What we are trying to do here, in weighing this example is sort out two things: what the speakers were trying to say with their grammatical choices and what they actually communicated—their meaning.

In this way, we come full circle back to where we began. Grammar is a wonderful system of ordering words, but ordering meaning can be far more difficult. Pascal pointed out that the order matters, and he is right. The reason we parse these sentences is because we want to find out if people are using words to describe reality accurately, or distort it—either by intention or oversight.

We cannot control how people in influential positions, such as politics or education, use grammar, but we can understand their use of it, and evaluate the truth of the meaning they communicate. Most importantly, we can learn from them where they fail to match their grammar to reality.

We may also misrepresent reality, because our understanding of it is also limited, but we can wield grammar with integrity and responsibility. That is the purpose of ordering words and meanings: using grammar to tell the truth.

Rockmore, Ellen Bresler. "How Texas Teaches History." The New York Times. The New York

Times, 21 Oct. 2015. Web. 11 Nov. 2015.