Mass. attorney board rushes to racialize, shun 'overseer,' ignores word's ancient, biblical usages

A proposal published for public comment would change the name of the Massachusetts Board of Bar Overseers to the "Board of Bar Oversight" to avoid connotations of slavery in the term "overseer."

The new name means the "BBO" will keep its popular initialism. The BBO was formed in 1974, so the "overseer" usage originated independently of the negative connotation. It seems what's changed in the last half century is sensitivity to language, for better and for worse.

Frederick Douglass
and grandson Joseph Douglass, 1894
Smithsonian NMAAHC

The BBO stated its reasoning:

The word "overseer" has a pernicious history in our country, tied inextricably to chattel slavery. On southern plantations, an overseer was the slaveowner's delegate in day-to-day governance, trusted to enforce order and obedience. Overseers were the most visible representatives of white supremacy. As defined in the Online Etymology Dictionary, an overseer was "one who has charge, under the owner or manager, of the work done on a plantation." In autobiographies by slaves such as Frederick Douglas [sic] and Solomon Northup ("Twelve Years a Slave"), overseers were described as heartless, brutal and cruel. They were an inevitable and indispensable product of an economy built on human chattel. As noted by University of Louisville president Neeli Bendapudi, "The term overseer is a racialized term. It hearkens back to American slavery and reminds us of the brutality of the conditions and treatment of black people during this time." We agree with this statement.

I don't. To "racialize" is "to give a racial character to: to categorize, marginalize, or regard according to race." I agree that Bendapudi racialized the term. The BBO did not, before now. But therein lies the power of a passive structure, "is ... racialized," allowing one to accuse without responsibility to prove.

The BBO moreover is almost irresponsibly selective in its sourcing. First, the Online Etymology Dictionary is a project of a Pennsylvania writer, Douglas Harper. It's good and interesting to read; I'm not meaning to denigrate Harper's labor of love. But I'm not sure any one person's internet project should be anyone else's first stop for denotation, especially in a legal context. The BBO's sourcing is on par at best with high-school-term-paper standards.

Second, "one who has charge ... of the work done on a plantation" is not exactly what the Online Etymology Dictionary says. Rather, here's the entry in full:

late 14c., "supervisor, superintendent, one who looks over," agent noun from oversee (v.). Specifically, "one who superintends workmen;" especially with reference to slavery, "one who has charge, under the owner or manager, of the work done on a plantation."

So it's not true, even in the source referenced, that "overseer" on its face is defined as, or means, a plantation supervisor. The meaning arises in the especial context of slavery.

Maybe I'm a little sensitive to the whole thing because I once served as an "overseer" in my church. The BBO doesn't mention that the word has any meaning outside of slavery, much less that it has ancient and Biblical origins.

Episkopos (ἐπίσκοπος) in Ancient Greek translates literally as onlooker, or overseer, and that's the word used in the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Bible. Epi (ἐπί) is a preposition meaning on or upon, and skopos (σκοπός) means to watch or look intently. Skopos is used variously (and in the Iliad) to refer to a lookout, a guardian, or a spy or scout.

In Ancient Greece, an episkopos referred specifically to a kind of imperial agent sent by Athens to distant municipalities to make sure they paid their taxes (Balcer 1977). (An interesting point of historical-comparative legal studies is that having a highly functional tax system is a common feature of successful ancient civilizations, from the Greeks to the Aztecs.) 

In the Iliad (22:255), A.T. Murray translation, Homer refers to the gods as witness to an agreement, using episkopoi (ἐπίσκοποι), the plural, to refer back to the gods. Murray beefed up the translation to say "witnesses and guardians of our covenant," thus articulating the added connotation of safeguarding.

In the Odyssey, also the Murray translation, below, Homer used episkopos more abstractly to indicate a role of authority:

τὸν δ᾽ αὖτ᾽ Εὐρύαλος ἀπαμείβετο νείκεσέ τ᾽ ἄντην:
‘οὐ γάρ σ᾽ οὐδέ, ξεῖνε, δαήμονι φωτὶ ἐίσκω
160ἄθλων, οἷά τε πολλὰ μετ᾽ ἀνθρώποισι πέλονται,
ἀλλὰ τῷ, ὅς θ᾽ ἅμα νηὶ πολυκλήιδι θαμίζων,
ἀρχὸς ναυτάων οἵ τε πρηκτῆρες ἔασιν,
φόρτου τε μνήμων καὶ ἐπίσκοπος ᾖσιν ὁδαίων
κερδέων θ᾽ ἁρπαλέων: οὐδ᾽ ἀθλητῆρι ἔοικας. 

Then again Euryalus made answer and taunted him to his face: "Nay verily, stranger, for I do not liken thee to a man that is skilled in contests, such as abound among men, but to one who, faring to and fro with his benched ship, is a captain of sailors who are merchantmen, one who is mindful of his freight, and has charge of a home-borne cargo, and the gains of his greed. Thou dost not look like an athlete."

In none of several English versions of this passage did I find episkopos translated directly. Poetically inclined translators such as Murray carried over the subject "captain" with either a pronoun or an implied subject. "Captain" here is "ἀρχὸς," or "chief." So it looks like Homer saw ἀρχὸς and ἐπίσκοπος as functionally equivalent in this context.

The New Testament accordingly uses episkopos several times to refer to church leaders. Indeed, "bishop" in English derives from the Greek episkopos—episcopus in Latin and obispo in Spanish.

Shepherd in 1 Peter 2:25
© Saint Mary's Press, licensed for non-commercial use

The First Epistle of Peter (2:25) (NIV) uses episkopos abstractly, as a metaphor for Jesus: "For 'you were like sheep going astray,' but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls" ("ἦτε γὰρ ὡς πρόβατα πλανώμενα· ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεστράφητε νῦν ἐπὶ τὸν ποιμένα καὶ ἐπίσκοπον τῶν ψυχῶν ὑμῶν").  

Other usages are more concrete. In Acts 20:28 (NIV), Paul admonishes disciples: "Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood" ("προσέχετε οὖν ἑαυτοῖς καὶ παντὶ τῷ ποιμνίῳ ἐν ᾧ ὑμᾶς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον ἔθετο ἐπισκόπους ποιμαίνειν τὴν ἐκκλησίαν τοῦ θεοῦ ἣν περιεποιήσατο διὰ τοῦ ἰδίου αἵματος"). Similar usages appear in Philippians 1:1, 1 Timothy 3:2, 1 Titus 1:7, and Hebrews 13:17.

The BBO needs to be called out here for shoddy work (really, misspelling Frederick Douglass?) and results-oriented reasoning. The board is myopically intent on sacrificing a word on the pyre of cancel culture—a move indicative more of wanting to look righteous than of wanting to be righteous. I might rather, as a general rule, strive for education and enlightenment, at least as a first-order response.

Yet, as it happens, I agree with the BBO's conclusion and proposal. Despite the board's woke pandering, the risk is significant that "overseer" will import for some hearers a connotation that should be foreign to the board's role. For me, it's not about "racialization"; it's about relationship. 

When I moved to New England and started to learn the ropes of the local legal culture, I bristled at the term "Bar Overseers." To be fair to Massachusetts, I have had the same feeling in other jurisdictions about boards of attorney and judicial "discipline." 

"Overseer" and boy in Yazoo City, Miss., yarn mill, 1911.
U.S. Library of Congress

I fear that these words connote a top-down style of austere supervision, a system of the powerful and the powerless, that does not comport with a profession of mutually supportive equals (dare I say, a brethren, which is and should be gender encompassing). "Overseer" is suggestive of a dramatic power imbalance; the word was used not only in connection with slavery and plantations, but in the context of child labor in the early 20th century.

That doesn't mean that the time never comes when persistent or willful misconduct requires a firm response; the profession owes its highest duty to the public. But using terms such as "overseer" and "discipline" has the unintended consequence of encouraging officeholders to misunderstand their roles. Lawyering and judging are among jobs that endow persons with authority over others, whether through power, like policing, or through access to knowledge. Some people attracted to these jobs are prone to use, or abuse, their power for its own sake. Those same people might gravitate to a job such as "overseer" or arbiter of "discipline" for the wrong reasons.

I was more amenable to the term "overseer" in my church, because the biblical usage is, or should be, utterly alien to abuse of power. Similarly, a church speaks of spiritual "discipline" with only the affirmative connotation of accountability to God. As a church overseer, I felt the weight of guardianship in the term. Being an overseer was a stern reminder of my responsibilities to others and sometimes, too often, of my own duties and failures of spiritual discipline. Anyone truly called to church leadership is humbled by the call, not lured by empowerment.

Even so, when my board of overseers overhauled the church constitution, we changed to "elder" leadership. At the same time, we changed the governance model. We studied and prayed over many church governance models. The Bible says remarkably little about specifics, so the art of church governance becomes part spiritual endeavor and part sociological experiment. We designed a variation on governance that we believed would work well for our congregation, better, at least, than what we had in an aging constitution. 

"Elder" aligned better with our new model, which emphasizes biblical knowledge, experience, and mentorship. There's nothing technically deficient in the term "overseer" for our new model, and we were not afraid of "racialization." It was just semantics. Different Christian writers have committed to different terms, so those terms now carry connotations of the writers' observations and recommendations.

So connotation, like context, matters. And given the connotation of barbarism that even sometimes attaches to "overseer," especially in secular contexts, the BBO's modest proposal is sensible.

I simply would prefer that the proposal were backed by an evenhanded and honest analysis. Then we might be able to say, more modestly, that we are just pushing pause on "overseer": giving its deplorable connotation time to fade in our social consciousness, rather than committing a word of ancient import to the dustbin because of a modern-era abomination.

Curmudgeon speaks on decline of grammar, civilization

Deteriorating grammar and style conventions signal the crumbling of western civilization.

I'm a grammar-and-style curmudgeon, so take my declaration with a grain of salt. Still, I feel pretty confident about it.

When I was in journalism school, in what was then still called the "print" program, I and my cohort were allowed to make one technical mistake in a story without penalty. 

A freebie. One. Of whatever kind: spelling, grammar, style. After that, the grade plummeted precipitously. I tested the system with carelessness just once, and it was damage enough to deprive me of an A for the semester.

Nowadays I find I have to give student papers separate reads for technical and substance. There are so many technical problems in the average draft that I can't focus on the substance at the same time. I give separate grades for tech and substance, too, before I combine them in a formula weighted in favor of substance.

In fairness, most of my students did not go to journalism school. As American legal education is open to all majors, some students have not written since grade school. Our ranks include accounting majors who took only math-oriented tests in non-liberal arts bachelor's programs. (How is that even a thing?) Where they are on tech is not their fault, but a failure of American K16 education. My foreign students who speak English as a second language usually exhibit better tech skills than the average American 1L—notwithstanding telltale struggle with the confounding rules of definite and indefinite articles.

I'm proud of my daughter, who went to a public school that, exceptionally, emphasized writing. We chose where we live for the school. She didn't love the heavy writing emphasis at the time, and fair enough. But when she went to arts school for university, she was shocked by how poorly prepared her peers were in writing, including those who wished to build careers writing creatively for TV and film. Her skill in writing set her apart, as it continues to in the workforce.

Many students who struggle initially, to their credit, embrace my feedback, readily extrapolate appropriate rules, and greatly improve their writing. Some students masochistically seek out my writing tutelage because they know they've been cheated in their education and want to improve. Of course, a few resent and resist the feedback. The quality of legal writing in the everyday practice of law suggests that they're not wrong about where the norm falls. 

Just spend a few hours in the briefs at any courthouse, and you'll see what I mean. When I started teaching legal writing in 1998, I went to the courthouse in Little Rock, Arkansas, to compile some model practice documents for my students' reference. I found almost nothing I could hold up as exemplary. That was disappointing but educational.

As my reputation precedes me, my 1L students sometimes worry over whether I'll knock them down for grammar on final exams. I won't, I tell them, unless a misusage creates ambiguity or otherwise impedes the reader's understanding. That does happen. But even I have now and then mistyped a "your" instead of "you're" when writing under time pressure, phonetic ideation direct to fingers. Timed exams are not research papers or practice documents.

UCLA Law Professor Eugene Volokh wrote ably for Reason earlier this week on the use of "they" as a singular pronoun. Like his academic legal writing, his Academic Legal Writing is superb, and I routinely recommend it. Like he, apparently, I have long counseled students on ways to avoid singular constructions that invite the problem of generic gendered pronouns. When working over the text doesn't work—sometimes, the difference between singular and plural is required by legal precision—I recommend "he or she," however cumbersome.

Nowadays the problem of singular "they" bleeds into the issue of gender identity. I am sympathetic with how that "they" emerged amid the failure of "ze" or another creative alternative. When that "they" is used, it is treated grammatically as a plural, even if the person is singular. I'm not here opining on that issue. Professor Volokh gave the best advice, anyway: essentially, know your audience.

I give students the same advice generally. Maybe the judge in your case was an accounting major and will be satisfied as long as you can string sentences together into recognizable paragraphs. But maybe your judge is a curmudgeon. If a student needs a better reason to know the rules than because they're the rules, then it serves to know that it might pay, literally, to be highly fluent in the lingua franca.

I've been thinking about this not only because of Professor Volokh's item, but because I returned to my home state of Rhode Island last week to be confronted with two curiosities on newspaper fronts at my local grocery store.  Here's the Barrington Times of August 13:

Barrington Times, Aug. 16,  2023: "'None of these fields are getting rest.'"

This headline is not necessarily wrong, for a couple of reasons. But it gave me pause, frozen for a time in the grocery store portico.

The conventional wisdom is that the word "none" is a contraction of "not one." So, like "one," usually, "none" should take a singular subject. The line should be, then, "None of these fields is getting rest."

At the same time, what we might call "linguistic originalists" point to a long history of English-language usage tolerating both singular and plural treatment of "none." The rule oft recited today is that "none" should be treated as a plural when it reads as "not any," or when the range of things to which it refers is plural. So if the subject of the headline is "not any of these fields," then "are" is suitable.

I find that rule profoundly unhelpful, because there is no real difference between "not one" and "not any."  "Not one" almost invariably refers to a range of multiple candidates. Many sources on grammar give examples in which plural usage pertains to the subject structure "none of [them/these/etc.]," but that's not a sensible distinction either. The headline statement here is wholly equivalent to "none is getting rest," were the line to appear in a context in which the adjectival phrase "of these fields" were unnecessary for clarity.

Other sources use a flexible rule in which the writer chooses based on emphasis. Treating the subject as singular emphasizes the singularity. That's hardly a rule. But if it pertained, I would contend that the above usage is wrong. For if one field were rested at any given time, there would be no newsworthy assertion that a new field is needed.

I recognize, too, by the way, that the headline is a quote. According to my old-school journalistic rules, a quote can be changed to make it grammatically correct, as long as the grammatical error is not salient to the story. The theory behind the rule is that the ethic of truthfulness yields to the principle of doing no harm (embarrassment) to persons identified in stories. At some point, that approach presents policy challenges around dialect, cultural vernacular, and education policy. But none of those reasons here would preclude changing the quote.

Regardless of where one comes down on the Barrington Times headline, I contend that the treatment of "none" as plural is now widely reflexive. And legal writers do themselves a forensic disservice by failing to consider the choice. If "not one" is the salient concept, then the treatment should be singular. A writer in argument, especially, might be served best by the singular, or even by regressing "none" to its ancestor: for example, "Not one of the bystanders was capable of aiding the plaintiff" is a more potent declaration than "none were," because the former usage emphasizes the existence of multiple counterfactuals.

Here's another front page, from The Rhode Island Wave:

The Rhode Island Wave, Aug. 2023: "Liquor World: Now Open In It's Newest Location."

The subhede on this ad reads: "Now Open / In It's Newest Location."

This is an easy one, and it's definitely wrong. "It's" is a contraction for "it is." The headline does not say, "In It Is Newest Location." The "it's" is rather a possessive and should be "its."

I recognize that the Wave is a free advertiser, and the copy in question appears (horrifically, atop the front page) in an ad. In my book, which, we've established, is unrelentingly curmudgeonly, that doesn't let the editor off the hook. (Just ask The New York Times.) The fact that the Wave is a free advertiser might, though, explain the quality of the journalistic editing.

I see "its"/"it's" errors all the time. It's disheartening. I get that "it's" is initially confusing, because, especially in formal writing, we are accustomed to apostrophes appearing in possessives more often than in contractions. But then you learn the rule, you turn six, and life moves on.

At risk of exceptionalism, I believe that the American model of law as graduate education, open to a full range of undergraduate majors, is a strength of the American legal system. Our bar is populated by a gratifying diversity of knowledge bases, skill sets, and life experiences that are little known in the five-year LL.B. model.

At the same time, and as long as our four-year higher ed system permits disciplinary focus to the exclusion of liberal arts, we in legal education bear a burden to teach American law students how to speak and write in what is for most of them their native tongue.

Inter-American Court heralds community radio as human right for indigenous Guatemalan broadcasters

Community radio in Colombia
(USAID CC BY-NC 2.0 via Flickr)

The Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACtHR) ruled in October 2021 that the state of Guatemala violated the right of indigenous radio broadcasters by shutting them down for want of licenses.

In multiple raids, Guatemala confiscated broadcasting equipment from four "pirate," that is, unlicensed, community radio stations and, in some cases, criminally prosecuted the broadcasters.

The stations provided information, entertainment, and cultural programming in the Mayan communities they served. At least one station programmed in the Mayan language.

The stations were unable to afford state licensing fees, which awarded frequencies to high bidders. Of Guatemala's 424 licensed FM and 90 licensed AM radio stations, the IACtHR press release about the case said, only one served an indigenous community.

Historical, structural discrimination, besides plain economics, was keeping indigenous broadcasters off the air, the court opined. Though only four stations were at issue in the case, lawyers for the four said as many as 70 indigenous broadcasters in Guatemala stand to benefit.

The case is likely to have farther geographical impact, too, I suggest. In my experience in Central and South America, community radio is a vital force for cultural cohesion and preservation of indigenous culture and language, not only among Guatemalan Mayans. Indeed, the court's opinion is a valuable precedent elsewhere in the world, as community radio is an important cultural force in indigenous and minority communities on every populated continent.

The court ruled that the Guatemalan policy on access to the airwaves violated the freedom of expression, equal protection, and the right to participate in cultural life. The court ordered the government to refine the regulatory process to account specially for indigenous community access, to reserve part of the radio spectrum for indigenous community radio, to make licenses simple to obtain, and strike the relevant criminal convictions.

The IACtHR decision reversed the final disposition in the Guatemalan high court, WBUR reported.

Lawyers in the Human Rights and Indigenous Peoples Clinic at Suffolk Law School in Boston, Mass., participated in the case on behalf of the broadcasters.

The case is Pueblos Indígenas Maya Kaqchikel de Sumpango v. Guatemala (IACtHR Oct. 6, 2021) (summary).

Linguists' famous feud evidences defamatory power of 'racist' charge

As I've written and spoken about in the past, in the 20-aughts, I was an unwilling combatant, enveloped collaterally, in "the Race Wars" at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock (epilog on my part).  If you've never heard of the Race Wars, you're to be forgiven.  It happened in American flyover country, where nothing in academia matters.  Not like when something happens at UCLA, and we get all vexed about it, like it's the first time, because now it's happened to someone important.  Nevertheless, my experience was life-altering for me.  And as often happens in the course of life's affection for irony, trauma leaves knowledge, wisdom, and even enlightenment in its wake.

One thing the Race Wars did was turn me 180 degrees into a plaintiff's advocate for defamation and privacy torts, even while vigorously maintaining my bona fides as a defender of the First Amendment and freedoms of expression and information.  Oddly enough, as a lawyer in the 1990s, I had once researched, for a case, the question of whether, or to what extent, an accusation of "racist" is capable of defamatory meaning.  I had concluded then, nearly never, even if uttered upon a false factual predicate.  And I was untroubled by that conclusion, because it fit with my then-staunch allegiance to free speech near-absolutism.  When, a decade later, the R-word was weaponized against me—falsely, unless one is speaking systemically, without reference to individual culpability, but that wasn't a thing until recently—I reassessed my analysis.

Yet my research showed, still, a decade ago, that it would be exceedingly difficult, impossible in many jurisdictions, to eke a successful defamation claim out of "racist," even when an accuser is signaling, by wink and nod, a false factual basis for the charge.  Common law evolution is slow, and precedents had mounted upon the conclusion that "racist" is a matter of opinion only, incorporating no assertion of fact, and thus incapable, as a matter of law, of lowering one's estimation in the eyes of the community.  Charged with a false accusation that threatened to end my career, that conclusion felt wrong.  If one were expected to resign one's job upon the mere fact of an accusation, regardless of its veracity, and regardless of any defense—I was asked to—then that seemed to me a sufficiently horrific charge to fit the bill for defamation.

In the years since, I have seen the same dynamic play out in cases around the country, to other people, in academia, employment, politics, and other contexts, repeatedly reinvigorating that nagging question, whether "racist" is merely an expression of opinion, or can carry defamatory meaning.  So it was with great interest, while on involuntary summer/pandemic hiatus from UMass Law, catching up with my reading, that I came upon a little story about the accusation "racist" in a Tom Wolfe book.  I'm breaking hiatus momentarily to share this story with you.

Tom Wolfe's Take on 'Everett v. Chomsky'

I just read Tom Wolfe's Kingdom of Speech (2016), about the origin of language, anthropologically speaking. Wolfe references a brilliant book I read some years ago, Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes (2008), by Daniel Everett, about his language work (and much more) with the isolated Pirahã people in Brazil. What I didn't know was that Everett's book was one important salvo in a vast intellectual war, in anthropology circles, between Everett, and his supporters, and Noam Chomsky, and his acolytes, over Chomsky's theory of "universal grammar" (UG).  (I'm not going into detail on the theories here, because that's not my purpose.)  Everett's 2008 book pretty well laid out UG.

What Wolfe explained in Kingdom of Speech is that Chomsky's people were like a (socialist, but, like, really, socialist) cult; they had been merciless in defending UG against advancing science showing UG to be garbage (I generalize). They would go after scientists to undermine their work and in that way kept UG around as a dominant theory of language development for decades, despite what, we see clearly now, was a dearth of evidence. UG was less science and more belief system, or academic cult of personality, built around Chomsky.

Among the unusual features of the Pirahã language is a lack of verb tense, as well as other treatments of time and relativity (especially the omission of something called "recursion"; again, not going into it here) that make communication with us, speakers of the world's modern languages, very difficult. One could conclude that the Pirahã are not very smart, because they don't communicate the way we do. That's mistaken; it's apples and oranges. But it's difficult to perceive Pirahã intellect until one masters the language, and Everett was the first outsider who ever did, only after years of study (and he is a savant-level quick study).

So here's the pertinent part. Everett was burgeoningly famous for his research on the ground in Brazil. Chomsky hated field work in general and hated Everett in particular, whose research was exploding UG. So, in 2007, Chomsky's side engineered this, according to Wolfe:

"Everett was in the United States teaching at Illinois State University when he got a call from a canary with a PhD informing him that a Brazilian government agency, FUNAI, the Portuguese acronym for the National Indian Foundation, was denying him permission to return to the Pirahã ... on the grounds that what he had written about them was ... racist. He was dumbfounded." (Wolfe's ellipses and emphasis.)

Wolfe further explained:

"Everett expressed nothing but admiration for the Pirahã. But by this time, even giving the vaguest hint that you looked upon some—er—indigenous people as stone simple was no longer elitist. The word, by 2007, was 'racist.' And racist had become hard tar to remove.

"Racist ... out of that came the modern equivalent of the Roman Inquisition's declaring Galileo 'vehemently suspect of heresy' and placing him under house arrest for the last eight years of his life, making it impossible for him to continue his study of the universe. But the Inquisition was at least wide open about what it was doing. In Everett's case, putting an end to his work was a clandestine operation."

It turns out that Don't Sleep, There are Snakes, in 2008, was Everett's rejoinder to this attack. The book was wildly popular, exceeding even the bounds of scholarly readership (thus reaching me), and hammered the nails to shut UG's coffin.

Though things worked out all right for Everett, Wolfe's story evidences, as if more evidence were needed, the defamatory potential of that R-word charge—even at a time when I was being told to let it go, that "words [could] never hurt me."

Incidentally, and strangely collaterally irrelevantly, Wolfe and I both are graduates of Washington and Lee University. As I just read in parody,"Washington and Lee University votes to remove offensive name from school's title. Will now simply be known as 'University.'"

Of turds and torts

<Warning: Vulgar language ahead!>

Lately I have been doing research on "bad language" in anticipation of the Lenny Bruce conference that will dedicate his archive to Brandeis University libraries (see Comedy and the Constitution, and join us on October 27-28!).  A couple of sources have taught me that the vulgar word "turd" shares an origin with the legal term "tort."  As explained by Professor Geoffrey Hughes in his Encyclopedia of Swearing (2006), page 467:

TURD. This ancient term has followed the same basic semantic route historically as shit, being first recorded in Anglo-Saxon times in a plain literal sense, leading to various metaphorical extensions of coarse abuse from the medieval period onward.  Etymologically the word turns out to be a distant relative of legal tort, both rooted in the concept of being twisted or crooked.

So the next time I'm told, "You're full of shit," I will say, "Why, thank you.  I am indeed a torts professor."

Now that's a savory re-tort.