Ability, Capacity, Capability

These near-synonyms actually mean slightly different things—but teasing out the subtleties requires a bit of hairsplitting.

To drive the first wedge, distinguish between ability and capacity. Ability denotes actual (as opposed to potential) skill that may be either native or acquired.1 On that point, Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary cuts right to the pith, stating that ability is “natural aptitude or acquired proficiency.”2(p3) Capacity, on the other hand, denotes the potential to develop a skill, a native characteristic that one either does or does not have and that cannot be acquired or developed.3 (Language purists might maintain that capacity should be used only to refer to space or volume, but its use to refer to aptitude is well accepted.) Moreover, whereas ability and capacity can each refer to either physical or mental aptitude, capacity is more commonly used in connection with mental aptitude—in particular, to “mental or intellectual receiving power; ability to take in impressions, ideas, knowledge.”4

Persons attempting to keep these subtleties straight might, like William Caxton, well be inclined to exclaim, “My capacity is not sufficient for the proper handling… of such subjects”4—but things get more complicated yet. When differentiating ability from capacity, some language users distinguish between whether a sentence is referring to persons/animals or to things (with ability often used with persons and capacity most often used with either persons or things)1; however, this distinction is rapidly waning, and both words are commonly used to refer either to animate or to inanimate agents. For example, both words are commonly used when referring to inanimate agents such as physiological mechanisms (eg, “The ability/capacity of this pathway to promote….”) or anatomical structures (eg, “The ability/capacity of the liver to clear the body of these toxins….”).

Capability denotes “the quality or state of being capable”2(p182) as well as “a feature or faculty capable of development.”2(p182) Thus, capability comes closer to ability in meaning. However, capability further denotes a unique fitness for achieving a defined end,1 and this specificity makes capability a good choice in contexts requiring a greater degree of precision. So, while capability is all too often simply used as a pretentious substitute for ability—a 10-dollar word lobbed in when a 1-dollar word would have gotten the job done—capability might have been the better choice in the above examples (“The capability of this pathway to promote….”; “The capability of the liver to clear the body of these toxins….”). Furthermore, language users often use capability in place of capacity, likely led astray by the “cap” with which they both begin. However, whereas the use of capability in place of ability is becoming more accepted, particularly when referring to a unique aptitude to accomplish a particular end, the use of capability in place of capacity is usually incorrect.

The bottom line:

Ability = Actual skill, either mental or physical; native or acquired.

Capacity = Potential to develop a skill, usually mental; native, as opposed to acquired.

Capability = Unique fitness for a defined end; sometimes may be used in place of ability, but its use in place of capacity is incorrect.—Phil Sefton, ELS

1. Ability, capacity, capability. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of Synonyms. Springfield, MA; Merriam-Webster Inc; 1984:4.

2. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. 11th ed. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster Inc; 2003.

3. Ability, capacity. In: Bernstein TM. The Careful Writer: A Modern Guide to English Usage. New York, NY: Athaneum; 1985:5.

4. Capacity. The Compact Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press; 1991:209.

Quiz Bowl: Plurals

It’s time for our second Quiz Bowl! This month’s quiz, which subscribers can find at http://www.amamanualofstyle.com/, examines the use of plurals. Test your knowledge by correcting the error in the following sample question based on your understanding of chapter 9 of the AMA Manual of Style.

Sera from 100 infants in the study were collected at birth.

Okay, time’s up. Did you identify the error? Here’s the answer (use your mouse to highlight the text box):

Serum samples from 100 infants in the study were collected at birth.

Beware of “pluralizing” nouns that cannot stand on their own as plurals (eg, use serum samples not sera and urine tests not urines) (§9.7, When Not to Use Plurals, p 369 in print).

If you want to learn more about how to edit plural words, subscribe to the AMA Manual of Style online and take the full quiz. Stay tuned next month for another edition of Quiz Bowl.—Laura King, MA, ELS

Editors’ Eyes

The dialog box in Word suggests unironically that I should consider changing antidiabetic to ant diabetic. Is there a hyperglycemic epidemic in the insect population that I missed hearing about?

Spell-check can be a useful tool that improves the quality and readability of content. But as editors and readers know all too well, spell-check can be dangerous if wielded indiscriminately. Instead of making the role of a human editor obsolete, spell-check has only underscored the need for such professionals.

Several papers submitted to JAMA recently proved this point. I usually run spell-check after I complete my editing in case I missed something. In addition to the diabetic ants, Word suggested the following: change metformin to motormen, pertussis to peruses, autonomously to gluttonously, and PDF to puff.

I politely declined all these fine suggestions but was grateful when Word spotted terible that should have been tertile. What a difference a word makes.

Over time spell-check has become more useful because I regularly add words to my locally stored dictionary (“Add to Dictionary” in the dialog box). In addition, Dorland’s offers a medical spell-checker that can be integrated directly into Word and Stedman’s offers a medical spell-checker as well

Despite these useful add-ons, I still like to read articles word-for-word, when time permits, and not rely solely on technology to prevent errors. The ants, I’m afraid, are beyond my expertise.—Stacy L. Christiansen, MA

Mistakes Were Made

The January-March 2011 issue of Science Editor is devoted to the theme of correcting the scientific literature, something that happens to our journals on a regular basis. In 2011 alone, we’ve already logged more than 70 corrections. With the advent of rushing to get everything online as soon as possible, sometimes it seems like we are doing more corrections than ever. Or maybe it just feels that way because with online articles, we can go in and fix that darn typo rather than just let it be. Hard to say.

You can check out the post about it at the Science Editor Editor’s Blog, and (if you are a Council of Science Editors member) read the whole thing at the CSE site. Also, feel free to leave a comment and let us know how your publication handles corrections in print and online.—Lauren Fischer

Who Was That Masked Manual?

No one wants to be a don’t, a fashion faux pas splashed in full color across the page of a widely circulated fashion magazine. In an attempt to protect the identity of the don’t, one such periodical places black bars over the eyes of each fashion offender. Is this technique sufficient to spare the person the potential humiliation and ridicule that may follow? The AMA Manual of Style offers a resounding no.

Reports of medical cases and research can be greatly enhanced by a photographic or illustrative example of the condition under discussion. Imagine reading a case report of a unique rash with no accompanying photograph, or an article about a newly developed surgical technique without before-and-after images or an illustration of the surgeon’s approach. A picture, it is often said, is worth a thousand words (see 7.5.4, Clichés).

Medical journals have a responsibility to protect patients’ rights to privacy and anonymity, including the deletion of patients’ names, initials, and assigned numbers from case reports; the removal of identifying information from radiographs, digital images, and laboratory slides; and the deletion of identifying details from descriptions of patients or study participants in published articles (see 5.8.2, Patients’ Rights to Privacy and Anonymity).

Until the late 1980s, placing black bars over the eyes of patients in photographs was accepted as a way to protect their identities. However, some journals began to discontinue this practice when it became apparent that bars across the eyes do not preserve confidentiality (see 5.8.2, Patients’ Rights to Privacy and Anonymity). The Uniform Requirements for Manuscripts Submitted to Biomedical Journals concurs, noting that “masking the eye region in photographs of patients is inadequate protection of anonymity.”1

When detailed descriptions, photographs, or videos of faces or identifiable body parts are included with a manuscript that might permit any patient to be identified (even if only by the patient himself or herself), authors should obtain written permission from the identifiable patients (or legally authorized representatives) to publish the information. An example of the patient permission form used by JAMA and the Archives Journals is available at http://pubs.ama-assn.org/misc/patientconsent.pdf. The journal may wish to state (eg, in the Acknowledgment) that the patient shown and/or described has provided written permission.

If such permission cannot be obtained, another approach the journal might take is to remove nonessential potentially identifying details. For example, a patient described as a “20-year-old woman from suburban St Louis with end-stage renal disease undergoing dialysis” could be rewritten as a “young adult woman with end-stage renal disease undergoing dialysis.”

However, altering descriptive characteristics (eg, sex) is not appropriate because it is a form of falsification and may be misunderstood by readers and others conducting secondary analyses of published reports. The best way to provide complete information while protecting patient rights is to obtain informed consent for publication. Informed consent for this purpose requires that an identifiable patient be shown the manuscript to be published or waive his/her right to review the paper.1

To protect patients and to spare potential legal woes, medical journals should not use black bars on photographs in the attempt to preserve confidentiality. The image should be replaced with one that has permission for publication or one in which identifiability is not an issue, or the article should run sans photograph.—Stacy L. Christiansen, MA

1. Uniform Requirements for Manuscripts Submitted to Biomedical Journals: ethical considerations in the conduct and reporting of research: privacy and confidentiality—patients and study participants. http://www.icmje.org/ethical_5privacy.html. Accessed May 9, 2011.

Quiz Bowl: Units of Measure

Welcome, participants, to the AMA Manual of Style Quiz Bowl. Every month at http://www.amamanualofstyle.com/, we offer subscribers a quiz on different aspects of the manual that help participants master AMA style and improve their editing skills. Previous quizzes have covered topics as varied as correct and preferred usage, genetics, tables, figures, and ethics, as well as numerous other subjects. In this blog, we will offer a sample question from each month’s quiz to whet your appetite. This month’s quiz is on Units of Measure: Format, Style, and Punctuation. So, here goes.

Edit the following sentence based on your understanding of section 18.3 of the AMA Manual of Style.

A total of 50 mg of etanercept were administered subcutaneously twice weekly for 12 weeks.

Well, how did you do? Did you identify the problem? Here’s the answer (use your mouse to highlight the text box):

A total of 50 mg of etanercept was administered subcutaneously twice weekly for 12 weeks.

Units of measure are treated as collective singular (not plural) nouns and require a singular verb (§18.3.3, Subject-Verb Agreement, p 791 in print).

So, did you enjoy this tidbit? If you are not sated, subscribe to the AMA Manual of Style online and take the full quiz.—Laura King, MA, ELS

Short Course for Manuscript Editors at the 2011 Council of Science Editors Annual Meeting

Today in Baltimore, a group of 35 participants met to learn about and discuss topics relevant to manuscript editors in the Council of Science Editors Short Course for Manuscript Editors. The morning started with Jane Wiggs of the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida, addressing the editing of abstracts. The session covered the importance of a well-written abstract, the elements of a good abstract, and how to edit an abstract to conform to a journal’s specifications. Wiggs emphasized that effective abstracts consist of clear, concise writing with limited use of abbreviations. She stated that abstracts should include number of observations (eg, the numbers of patients and controls), interventions (including dosages), identification of end points and how they were measured, results of end points in the same order as in the methods section, report of complications or adverse effects, and a conclusion based on data in the article. Her take-home message was that all the information listed in the abstract must appear and match the information in the text.

The next session was led by Trista Wagoner, a copy editor at Science, who addressed how to handle supplementary material. The group discussed the difficulties of editing (or not editing) and publishing supplementary material. Hot topics included whether supplementary material is being used by readers and how to handle authors who want to “dump” supplementary material on a journal’s Web site.

Stacy Christiansen then explored balancing patient confidentiality with dissemination of information. The group examined published photos and text of easily identifiable patients and brainstormed on ways to avoid these ethical and sometimes legal breaches. After lunch, Laura King, a freelance medical editor, led a discussion on levels of editing and how to use this system to communicate with authors and publishers. Participants discussed how they used different levels of editing in their daily work and other uses for the system in the field of publishing.

The course concluded with Elizabeth Blake of Inera Inc, who covered Word tips for editors. This practical session covered how manuscript editors can personalize Microsoft Word so it works effectively for instead of against the editor. Blake covered shortcuts, navigation, find and replace, and editing tables and concluded with a discussion on transitioning to Word 2010. The course was a great kick-off to the 2011 Council of Science Editors Annual Meeting.––Laura King, MA, ELS

Aggravate, Irritate

Students are commonly taught that these words should be distinguished from one another, with aggravate used to mean “to make worse, more serious, or more severe”1(p24) and irritate to mean “to provoke impatience, anger, or displeasure in.”1(p663) However, aggravate has been used to mean irritate since at least 1611 (in a dictionary, no less: Randle Cotrave’s A Dictionairie of the French and English Tongues)2 and moreover has been used in that sense by such writers as Cheever, Cowper, Dickens, Melville, and Styron.3

Despite that sterling track record, by 1870 the use of aggravate to mean irritate had for some reason begun to provoke finger-wagging,1(p24) and currently such use is more acceptable in conversation and casual writing. (Perfectly understandable, really: who has time to stop and ponder which is correct, when one’s meaning seems clear enough using either word?) On the other hand, more formal writing—perhaps because the reader has the benefit of neither nonverbal cues nor personal acquaintance with the writer—often calls for more precision, and published writing commonly preserves the distinction between these words.1(p24) Hence, many guides to written English continue to maintain that aggravate should never be used to mean irritate; for example, regarding such usage, Bernstein pointedly maintains that “neither the commonness nor the long history of misuse makes it any better than inept.”4

However, even writers who freely use aggravate in place of irritate do so only when describing a mental state—specifically, when someone or something is getting on one’s last nerve. Descriptions of physical states are another matter: while aggravate was used at least as early as the 1800s to indicate physical irritation (“With stinging wood smoke aggravating the eyes”),2 precision mandates that that the distinction between the words be preserved in such contexts. For example, a patient with conjunctivitis does not have an “aggravation of the conjunctiva”; irritation, or a reaction to a stimulus, is the finding here, although the patient might be advised that environmental irritants such as smoke can further aggravate the irritation already present (see §11.1, Current and Preferred Usage of Common Words and Phrases, in the AMA Manual of Style, pp 381-405 in print).

The bottom line:

●Describing a physical finding or state? In casual as well as formal contexts, current usage calls for irritate, with aggravate used only to describe the worsening of the irritation.

●Describing the effects of irksome behavior or circumstances? The use of aggravate to mean irritate is usually acceptable in casual communications and is rapidly gaining acceptance in more formal contexts as well, but persons writing for publication might be wise to use aggravate only to refer to a worsening of one’s irritation. On this point, Bernstein again: “[t]hose who say they are aggravated are, most likely, the same persons who say that in the hospital they were diagnosed.”4Phil Sefton, ELS

1. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. 11th ed. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster Inc; 2003.

2. Aggravate. The Compact Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press; 1991:28.

3. Aggravate. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster Inc; 1994:49.

4. Aggravate. In: Bernstein TM. The Careful Writer: A Modern Guide to English Usage. New York, NY: Athaneum; 1985:30.

A Healthy Discussion

You’d think a nutritionist would know the correct usage of healthy vs healthful. Not so. At a recent nutrition educational meeting at the AMA, the nutritionist used the words interchangeably: healthful eating or healthy behavior. That’s a head-scratcher for me. I was hoping for clarification after a stinging rebuke—(I have been accused of being dramatic)—when my editing of healthy behavior to healthful behavior in a commentary had been reversed.

Shaken, I turned to the dictionary to confirm my position and found, as I thought, that healthful promotes health and healthy represents the state of good health. Yet, my editor’s complaint was that healthful seemed unnecessary. My attempts at persuasion fell short, so I had hoped the nutritionist’s discussion would help me gain my equilibrium.

Realizing her discussion placed her in my boat, I decided to see what the authorities who address it had to say.

Fowler’s Modern English Usage1 notes that the distaste for the use of healthful is particular to the United States, a “problem that hardly arises in Britain.” Comparing 3 dictionaries for non-English speakers, Editor R. W. Burchfield observes that one calls its use “old fashioned or literary”; a second, “formal.” The third omits it.

Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage2 says the confusion has existed since the 16th century and claims that the distinction between the terms was created as recently as 1881 by Alfred Ayers. Webster’s concludes that those who “observe the distinction between healthful and healthy … are absolutely correct, and in the minority.” Those who “ignore the distinction … are absolutely correct, and in the majority.”

The Chicago Manual3 hedges by making the distinction between the 2 words, but admits “But gradually healthy is taking over.”

As usual, it doesn’t really matter. But what should one do when making it an adverb? Healthfully or healthily? Hmmm.—Beverly Stewart, MSJ

1. Burchfield RW. Fowler’s Modern English Usage. 3rd rev ed. New York, NY: Oxford University Press; 2004.

2. Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster Inc.

3. The Chicago Manual of Style. 16th ed. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press; 2010.

What Are You Trying to Say?

In his chapter, “An Approach to Style” in The Elements of Style, E. B. White states, “A careful and honest writer does not have to worry about style.” This statement guides me as an editor, and as a writer, when I become too mired in the frustrations of dangling modifiers, passive sentences, imperfect words. I try to remember, the point of any writing is to communicate. When I ask myself what I am communicating, and get back to the simplest idea of my purpose for an assignment, the editing becomes easier, and the intricacies of style seem less of an obstacle and more of a tool.

But what happens when an editor isn’t sure what he or she is communicating? Medicine is complex, full of specialized words and obscure concepts. What happens when we don’t realize that a word is being used incorrectly, because our understanding of the concept being communicated is limited? This is perhaps the most difficult challenge I face as an editor of medical journals, and the reason we track our changes when sending them to authors. What if my streamlining of a complex sentence detrimentally affects its meaning? It’s always my fear that, in attempting to improve a statement, I will cause the meaning to be changed.

This is why I’m grateful for the author-assisted editing process. Each author who carefully sorts through my myriad comments and questions, who assesses the edits I make and comments on them, is my ally in making sure any reader, regardless of their experience with English or level of medical expertise, can use our journals in their work. Physicians are busy people, and editing is not their job. Yet, this partnership allows us to make our journal as useful and far-reaching as possible. As a microbiology student, I regularly used medical journals in my research and school assignments. Reading these studies was challenging at best, and occasionally baffling. It’s this experience that I go back to—remembering that it’s not just myself and the author who will need to understand this work, that it affects all levels of medicine—and remembering my purpose, I turn the elements of style into my tools.—Roya Khatiblou, MA