On the importance of being pedantic (series: notes to myself)

They say that to call someone pedantic is an insult. I'm not so sure.

True, someone pedantic is obsessed with minor details, small errors, or tiny imperfections. And a pedantic is also someone who cares too much about all such things not to let you know about them, advising or correcting, disagreeing or disapproving. And yes, if you are a pedant, you are more than just occasionally pedantic. This can happen to anybody, the excessive emphasis on some narrow or boring detail being a tendency we all share when it comes to matters about which we care very much. But if you are a pedant, being pedantic is your daily stance, your intrinsic nature, your way of living. You are always, consistently, reliably, systematically pedantic, from the moment you wake up, about the exact place where the slippers should be next to your bed, all the way to the moment you go to sleep, and the exact place where the phone should be placed to recharge. If you are a true pedant, no detail is too trivial, no error too negligible, no imperfection too small to deserve to be overlooked, or fail to be the focus of a correction, a rectification, an improvement, a gentle nudge in the right direction. A pedantic is by definition a perfectionist of small things.

This is why language is the kingdom of the pedantic. Reminding people that "beg the question" means "assumes the truth of what needs to be argued for, instead of arguing for it", not "raises the question", no matter how many times the journalists will misuse it. Correcting every time the wrong "if" into a correct "whether", even if not even the BBC or The Economist know the difference anymore, because "I doubt if Alice can drive" means that Alice can drive but not today, maybe because she is not feeling well, but "I doubt whether Alice can drive" means that perhaps she does not know how to drive at all. Frowning upon the misuse of "jealous" when someone states that he is jealous of your wife, when in fact there is no love affair between them, he merely means that he is envious of her achievements. Explaining to the "expert" who just gave a boring talk about ethics that "ethics is" like mathematics, and not "are", as he kept saying... and then the "its" and the "it's", the "less" and the "fewer" of our daily lives ... being pedantic can be frustrating.

But it can also be a source of joy. For pedantry is an intellectual DIY that never stops providing opportunities for small improvements, marginal increments, to deliver something that is better than it was, even if almost imperceptibly so. Being pedantic can feel like an honourable fight against chaos and confusion, imprecision and sloppiness, one detail at a time.

So I am not entirely convinced that being a pedant is such a bad way of going about one's own life. After all, pedants are on a mission. Because they know that details are where both God and the Devil hide. "Le bon Dieu est dans le détail" ("the good Lord is in the detail"), as Flaubert apparently once remarked. Perhaps this is why they care so much about every small aspect of the world that they can improve. Everything that is done should be done as well as possible, this is their credo. Nothing should be left untouched if it can be improved. Because they also know that details are where the Devil hides, whenever perfection is lacking, simplicity is merely apparent, harmony and beauty are ruined by invisible errors, wrong shadows obscure the light of perfection, the sin of omission is the fault of the sloppy acceptance of a defect. If you think of it, they are exorcists, once you know how to appreciate them. To a pedant, "impeccable" really has a religious overtone as the ultimate, unimprovable, "unpedanticable" perfection.

So next time you meet a pedant and call him pedantic, don't forget that he may be working ad maiorem Dei gloriam and perhaps be quite proud of the epithet.