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Lex maniac

Investigating changes in American English vocabulary over the last 40 years

Tag Archives: risk

exposure

(businese | “risk”)

A word of many uses in everyday language to which one has been added in the last forty years. A quick review of the wide range of meanings this term had in the seventies, say:

a. the act of learning about or experiencing a stimulus, especially an unfamiliar one (“exposure to jazz, French culture, etc.”); goes with “to”

b. the direction your window, etc. faces (“southern exposure”); no preposition

c. for photographers, it meant how much light came in before the shutter closed, or simply a frame of film that had already been shot (you could even have a double exposure, and that’s no double entendre)

d. inadequate covering of body parts not normally displayed, voluntarily (“indecent exposure”) or involuntarily (“die of exposure”); no preposition

e. personal embarrassment caused by no-longer-secret conduct (e.g., “he was disgraced by his exposure as a tax cheat”); goes with “of”

f. attention from the popular press, what one gets when one is a celebrity; no preposition

g. potential harm caused by ingesting or absorbing hazardous substances from the environment (such as sunlight or air pollution or radiation); goes with “to”

And now there’s

h. financial risk caused by heavy investments in a weak sector, or just too much debt; goes with “to.” Probably a descendant of g., or at least that’s the one it most closely resembles. In the aftermaths of the 2008 crash, and the 2000 crash, and the 1987 crash, and the 1981 crash, we’ve gotten used to the idea of toxic financial instruments and practices, and this usage is a natural outgrowth. While “exposure” had this meaning well before 1980 in financial jargon, the increased fragility of the U.S. economy in recent decades has no doubt helped push it outward into the general vocabulary. (Even in a purely financial context, it also partakes somewhat of e. If it partakes likewise of d., you’re in bad shape; even a good lawyer won’t be able to do much.)

One way to sort definitions d. through h. is to place each one by its potential for undesirable results. With e. and g. and most likely h., you’re worse off than you would have been otherwise, but d. and f. may cut both ways. Exposure of the body may subject you to injury, or it may give you the warped satisfaction of forcing another person to participate unwillingly in your sexual gratification. Even in the latter case, you’re still vulnerable, to arrest if nothing else. As for f., today’s darling of the gossip pages is tomorrow’s disgrace, if e. kicks in and your secret vice is found out. It may not be that dramatic; a celebrity may fall from favor simply by attracting too much attention (“overexposure”). It may be fun at first, but any kind of exposure ultimately invites danger to one’s reputation, or even one’s life.

This week’s term, with its implication that one has been caught doing something wrong, points to a peculiarity of English: we don’t have a reliable word for revealing hidden good deeds rather than hidden malfeasance. “Expose,” “unmask,” “uncover,” “reveal” itself — they all imply that one has been up to no good. “Unveiling” might work, but we use that more often about statues than about people. I was thinking about this as I tried to translate a German title that included the phrase “Enttarnung eines Helden.” “Introducing a hero” or “Exhuming a hero” might get the point across, but the first is imprecise and the second ghoulish. How do you reveal that someone has acted heroically when all the available verbs suggest villainy?

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risk-averse

(1980’s | academese (economics) | “cautious”)

This expression carries a couple of odd dichotomies considering how straightforward it appears. The most obvious pertains to that which it modifies; either persons or corporate bodies — whatever the Supreme Court says, they’re not the same — may be risk-averse, though presumably the risk-aversion of a corporation is ultimately traceable to individuals, whether executives or independent shareholders. More interesting is the fact that risk-averseness may proceed from two entirely different kinds of experience. A conservative corporate board avoids sudden shifts and grand initiatives because they feel prosperous; there’s no incentive to rock the boat. Yet it is a tenet of pop psychology that those who have lived through times of deprivation are suspicious of all but the safest investments, and, in extreme cases, may refuse even to keep their money in banks. (Both sides have in common assets to protect; if you have nothing to lose, there’s no point in being risk-averse.) But then there’s an absent dichotomy that one might naively expect to find in an expression beloved of bankers: the distinction between sensible risk likely to pay off and a crazy scheme. The risk-averse will stay away from both, desiring only the steadiest and safest.

The expression comes out of the discipline of economics and was most used originally in finance, starting in the sixties and becoming commonplace by the eighties. Soon it came to be used often of politicians and lawyers. Among corporations, insurance companies attract it the most; their risk-aversity comes from a visceral understanding of actuarial tables. Yet any stodgy company merits the term. Slowly but surely over time, it has spread into other kinds of prose, with movie reviewers and even the odd sportswriter resorting to it nowadays. More kinds of writers use it to describe more kinds of people — it’s not just for stockholders any more. The point of the compound seems to be neutrality; it strives to avoid any imputation of prudence or cowardice, and largely does, as far as I can tell.

In a previous post I remarked on the curse of capitalism — if one guy works harder, everyone has to work harder — and risk-aversitude bears the seeds of a different manifestation of it. In competitive markets, each company watches the innovations of others like a hawk. When they succeed, the other competitors follow; when they fail, everyone else drops plans to do something similar. Television works this way, though maybe less so now, when there are so many networks (an obsolete word, I know). Any change — introducing a new character into a popular series, or a new show about a controversial subject — carries with it a chance that your audience will flee in terror. But if it pays off, your competitors take note and resolve to do the same damn thing, backed up by shareholders who noticed that it made big profits for the other guy. Within a season or two, everyone is sick of the no-longer new gambit, and most of the imitators have made no headway. Whereupon they lose advertisers, another risk-averse group famously shy of causing offense, taking the money and running at the first sign of any immoral or objectionable acts that might result in lost market share. (Bill O’Reilly is only the latest in a very long line of such embarrassments.) Sometimes, what looks safe turns out to be dangerous. Risk avoidance, like any other strategy, is subject to misuse born of misunderstanding or bad timing, whether by the humblest investor or the loftiest board of directors.

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