The Lost World of the Preposition

Many people speaking publicly and a significant proportion of those writing for the public no longer know which preposition goes with which noun or even what the particular words mean. Since prepositions like to, by, with and over are link words rather than key nouns and verbs, some might say: “So what?” The only answer to that is the worth of good expression and accurate meaning. (Most of these short link words can be prepositions, adverbs, adjectives or conjunctions in particular constructions. I will not attempt to differentiate between them.)

Diana Hacker, in Rules for Writers, says: 

A preposition is a word placed before a noun or pronoun to form a phrase modifying another word in the sentence. The prepositional phrase nearly always functions as an adjective or as an adverb. In “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”, to hell functions as an adjective, modifying the noun road; with good intentions functions as an adverb, modifying the verb is paved. 

The first prepositional misuse that really caught my attention was in the Sunday Times of London in 1964, when in fact a hyphen represented the preposition in a report that a particular number was “between 50-60 per cent of the total”. Clearly an object that falls between two measures, times or locations must be between one and the other; it is not proceeding from one to the other. So this hyphen could only mean “to”. Indeed it was not long before the hyphen was commonly translated into the word, in the form “between 50 to 60 per cent”. Meantime, I complained to the Sunday Times editor, who did not publish my letter, but replied personally, saying that the hyphen was economical, so too bad about the English.

This simple misuse is probably now as common in everyday speech as the correct version and all too frequent in writing. The first wholesale substitution of one preposition for another in the last twenty years was the widespread use of towards instead of to. To indicates a place, person or condition approached and reached, as in “She went to town on Mondays”. We understand from the construction that she actually arrived at her destination. Towards means in the direction of, approaching. So when it became common to speak of violence towards women, instead of to or against women, the threat had been significantly reduced, indeed removed: the violence would not reach them, it was only moving in their direction.

Examples of towards as substitute for a more appropriate preposition are numerous, in almost every case the effect being to render the thought or action less positive than it should have been. As early as 1991, ABC 702 spoke of being “resentful towards technology”, when of was the obvious link word, and in 1994 a re-broadcast report from the BBC found “Russia redefining its position towards [on] NATO”. The broadcasters themselves were certainly not immune: in 1996 Radio National’s Norman Swan spoke of “a high propensity towards [for] obesity” and in 1997 none other than the legendary wordsmith-broadcaster Alistair Cooke spoke of “policy towards Communist China”.

In his acceptance speech as Prime Minister, the able communicator Tony Blair acknowledged “a duty towards other people”, while Radio National’s World Today might better have used on or for in speaking of “our human rights record towards Aborigines”. A Books and Writing program would have sounded rather more authoritative if it had provided education for women rather than “education towards women”.

Among the writers, John Gilmour wrote an entertaining Bulletin column called “From the Bootery”, but in 1992 weakened his message by wanting merely to direct economic policies “towards” (to) recognising that the level playing field was already tilted. Sydney Morning Herald columnist and broadcaster Mike Carlton’s “violence towards tourists” would remain as distant as it was from women, and Mungo MacCallum’s revulsion towards (revolted by) something objectionable was weakened by his choice of link word.

There has been no let-up. Donald Horne, Phillip Adams, Geoffrey Blainey—all have embraced towards as a substitute for what once would have been a shorter and more precise preposition or adverb. Some are worse than poor choices; they are simply poor English expression. Changing “the culture towards” alcohol was not worthy of the chairman of the Prime Minister’s Drugs Committee in 2001, while a deputy vice-chancellor’s “funding towards universities” set a bad example for any student who overheard him. Even such a good wordsmith as Robert Dessaix had caught the habit when in 2007 he spoke of politeness towards one another. Why not reach right out and make it effective? Like social policy towards Aborigines.

Phillip Adams added contortion to distortion when in 2006 he told Robert Hughes (no less) that “James has ambivalence towards himself”. Clive James is already there, so about would do it better, as for information towards a medical condition, observations towards a politician, a joke towards Ron Barassi, and policy towards almost any country you could name. The most tangled examples on record are one-time broadcaster John Doyle’s “is there a willingness towards a movement towards this [health care]?” and Olympic official John Coates’s “in our guidelines for selection towards the achievers, towards medals”. 

The second wave of substituting a particular preposition for almost any other began at much the same time as towards in the early 1990s, but reached epidemic proportions somewhat later. The word in question is into, and the one it most supplants is in. At the risk of stating the obvious, their difference needs explaining. In means within a space, time or body as distinct from outside it: in the house, just in time, in the mind. It takes a page in the Oxford; into takes only one-third of a page. Like towards, into conveys a sense of movement or direction, but also of ultimate entry: she walked into a puddle, he tore the paper into small pieces, they entered into an agreement. It is true that there have long been areas where the meanings are very close and seem to depend on usage: she awoke in a daze, he broke into a sweat.

My first recording, in 1989, introduces a complication. “State cabinet meets today in Lake Macquarie” sounds on the surface to be below the surface: the pollies jumping into the lake for a nice collegial swim in it. But of course Lake Macquarie is also a town and most people now prefer to meet in such places (within its confines) rather than at the point on the earth’s surface or the map. So those like broadcaster and historian Tim Bowden speak of “the Maritime Museum in [the precinct of] Darling Harbour”, whereas I would say “meet me at Darling Harbour”. The problem was otherwise put in a letter to the SMH in 2001, which asked, “Why is it that one is in a country or city but on an island? Are we in or on the island continent of Australia?” About fifteen years ago, a variant of this geographical dilemma became the practice of travel agents and airline cabin staff. They began to write itineraries including times of “arrival into South Africa” and to make announcements about “our landing into Melbourne”, which conjured up worrying visions of ending the flight under Table Mountain or the green fields of Tullamarine.

Leaving this geographical complication aside, we come to fluent author Peter Goldsworthy telling Andrew Olle in 1992 that he had “been immersed into it”. Surely the difference between in and into means that he was, at the time in question, in the midst of the work, the information, the subject of dominant interest, not plunging into it.

Some of these usages run counter to established phrases that are part of the language. “Put in place” suggests an action involving an object, either physical (a table) or abstract (an argument). “Put in your place” means a pushy person is given his comeuppance. So a Chatham House spokeswoman who reported a set of rules “put into place” sounded as though it might have been put inside a cupboard under the stairs. Assembling 200 students into an auditorium also flies in the face of common usage: people gather together in a space, rather than embed themselves in the building fabric. “I have been joined into the organisation” and “you must put a lot of trust into your Ministers” are equally in excess.

Quite the most common examples in recent years have been reports into and reviews into anything and everything. Every single hearing grates. What one does is look at and delve into the subject matter and then review it or report on it. A poll into community attitudes, a study into aspirin or happiness, and an investigation into Senate practice should all use of, a small and useful word that is almost extinct in some quarters. An inquest into a murder, a coroner’s finding into the disaster, a discussion paper into business taxation, the law Reform Commission’s reference into the justice system should all be on the matter concerned. Such small words! 

The third round of prepositional substitution is still young, though its outliers again appeared twenty years ago. It involves the use of around when the meaning usually requires about. The worst usage in my view is “centred around”, as used by historian Geoffrey Blainey in a 2001 Boyer lecture, the ABC News in reporting fear centred around the camp and events centred around Sydney Harbour. Around means on the periphery, in a circle, or in every direction from a given point, the centre. You can move around the centre, but the centre cannot move around a point that is not the centre.

The most common misuse of around is as a substitute for about. It seems to be a fad, as speaker after speaker takes it up, just like the current rash of calling our one earth or world the planet, or deliberately avoiding a simple “Where is it?” by saying “Where’s it at?” when that translates as “At which place is it at?” So, Geraldine Doogue finds Los Angeles to be based around the car, a social commentator sees a need for educating us around these issues, a female publicist thinks there are connotations around footwear, and a sports columnist wants the Test team to be based around Queensland. 

There are of course many other cases of prepositional mistreatment, but none I’ve noticed as having such rapid concentration as towards, into and around. One of the most enduring is the one mentioned at the outset: between this to that. It’s hard to find a simpler construction, one which would more likely ring a bell in the speaker’s mind (let alone the writer’s) as she or he uses it. Can you imagine saying: “Our house is between the shops to the beach” or “We are between the devil to the deep blue sea”? Why then is it done with numbers? 

Of quite recent advent is the tendency to go by foot rather than on foot. When one travels by bike, bus or ferry it is by assisted means. Our feet are already attached to us, which makes a different preposition more appropriate. In the opposite direction, the longstanding English judicial pronouncement, “You shall be hanged by the neck until dead”, was rendered by a judge in a recent Hercule Poirot television episode as “hanged from the neck”. Which brings us to persuasive wordsmith Don Watson having a 2007 audience somewhat precariously cheering a speech from the rafters instead of to them.

A meaning long since lost is the physical contact inferred by using off rather than from. Even the more (not most) literate in our society now say things like “Take it off Peter to pay Paul” (Professor Porter of CIS), “Keating had to claw the leadership off Hawke” (Bob Carr, Premier), and “having to take information off their employers” (Max Suich, editor). All of these abstract removals should use from, whereas “She tried to take a small girl off her mother” (News) is problematic and “the helicopter lifted off the flight deck” is as it should be. 

The latest trend in the use of prepositions is their superfluous addition to verbs, with America once again leading the way. Very few Australians who happily met people a few years ago are now content to do that: they meet with them. I’ve heard it argued that meet alone may signify meeting for the first time, while with attaches to subsequent encounters, but I find this unconvincing. The very latest is deliver on. Your friendly grocer may still deliver the goods you ordered, but against all expectation politicians are delivering on promises in droves. Including in (particularly), on, at and by are not far behind. Less frequent variants are follow up on, make good on, unlike in, listen up, and up next, the last beloved of radio and television presenters introducing the next speaker or program.

There is no little irony in the fact that at the same time as the meanings of prepositions are being widely confused, many broadcasters are pronouncing them with the emphasis which should be put on nouns and verbs. I refer mainly to the ABC—not only chatty presenters from AM to PM and on to Late Night Live, but also readers of the news—which for once is aware of the strange practice but seems unable to do anything about it. Perhaps they are moving towards a solution.

By way of illustration, the main presenter of Radio National’s World Today sabotages her mellifluous tone by such emphases as “staying with the terrorism issues” and “former leader of the Democrats”. Less beguiling voices are heard in similar vein: “blamed for the killing of the group” (John Logan, news); “were speakers at the conference” (Adams, Late Night Live); “The Flight of the Dragonfly” (Richard Aedy, Life Matters); and “an interview in London” (Tony Eastley, AM).

Perhaps we might encapsulate the challenge of prepositional use with a rhyme from primary school of long ago: 

One day I lost a preposition,
It went and hid beneath a chair,
And angrily I cried “Perdition!
Up from out of under there.”

Dr Solomon is editor of Federal Gallery, the journal of the Association of Former Members of the Parliament of Australia. He has written several articles on language usage for Quadrant.