In her poem “Ladder,” Jane Hirshfield says, “Rarely are what is spoken and what is meant the same.” I was astonished when I came across that line but on reflection I realized that, indeed, this is unfortunately the case. Over the last couple of decades there has been a degradation in the value of words. People no longer seem to have faith in the words of others, particularly anyone in public office or the press, and so they don’t give what these people say any credence. And I have come to the reluctant conclusion that many people don’t even understand what they themselves are saying. There is an imprecision that has crept into the language that is a little terrifying.

I try to be meticulous in my speech, in that I say exactly what I mean in the fewest possible words. From time to time I see that other people are taken aback by this forthrightness, since they are not used to it. There are certainly times when it is better to say nothing at all but if you are going to speak, why not say what you mean? Get right to the point. Avoid the preamble. This doesn’t mean that you have to be brutal. You can cut to the chase and still be gentle, but it is a kindness to others not to hold back if there is really something you want to communicate. When I talk, there is no hidden agenda because nothing is hidden.

I am still English, even though this is my fiftieth year in New York City. It is no secret that many English people find it hard to express a preference and are inclined to defer to the other person, not wishing to upset them in any way: “What would you like to do?” “Oh, I don’t mind. What would you like to do?” “It doesn’t matter to me, really. Would you like to go to a movie?” “Would you?” This exchange can go on for some time and even when it is over, neither person is quite sure whether the final choice is mutually satisfying. Better to be clear in the beginning and get on to the next thing. Someone once called me to ask if I would like to go and see “Gladiator,” since it had just won an Oscar. I was pleased that I had been invited, but my answer was brief and to the point: “No, thank you. Go with someone else. I saw ‘Quo Vadis’ when I was a teenager and that is enough Roman stuff for me.” If you say something this straight, other people know exactly where you stand.

I recall the broadcast that Saddam Hussein made to the American people during the Gulf War. It went on for a very long time and almost no one could grasp his message, because he never seemed to say whatever it was he wanted us all to know. All I took away from listening to it was the phrase “the mother of all battles” and the impression that Arabic was an even more indirect language than I had thought. I couldn’t tell whether his style was more flowery and oblique than other Iraqis, but I suspect that it was. And this was sad, because I think that many of us were curious to understand his point of view.

Telling the truth is completely uncomplicated. You don’t have to work out any strategy. You just tell it like it is. Also, there is no residue. You don’t find yourself wondering if you should or shouldn’t have said something. This saves an inordinate amount of time and energy (two things at a premium these days).