I have argued extensively elsewhere in my writings and teaching against a prescriptivist or crypto-prescriptivist explanation of English grammar and, in particular, of the verb form commonly known as the Present Perfect. Put simply, I suggest that native speakers tend to use this device, on an everyday practical basis, when they wish to indicate that a past occurrence is of relevance in the present, and contrast it loosely with the Past Simple, which is used when speakers ‘don’t care’ whether something is currently relevant or not.

This is not a static, rule-bound dichotomy between Yes and No, but a more complex, context-determined, dynamic, open, triangular relation between Yes, No and Don’t Care, with the potential to shift subtly over time. As every supposed language ‘rule’ does.

For the purposes of language teaching, therefore, the ‘rules’ are best just ignored. Learners will pick them up as they go along; and, if they can’t or won’t, it’s not—or shouldn’t be—a huge deal.

My view received some confirmation recently in the form of the words chosen by the Governor of the US State of Arizona to announce her veto of a State Senate bill that appeared to discriminate against citizens on the basis of their sexual orientation. She announced bluntly, and apparently ungrammatically, “I have vetoed this bill minutes ago.”

At this point, crypto-prescriptivist language teachers and religious conservatives alike must have been throwing their arms up in despair. I imagine burnt-out language teachers, who have devoted their careers to impelling Mexican immigrants not to use the Present Perfect with a fixed time phrase and built their careers on access to this arcane knowledge, frothing at the mouth in indignation and frustration at this transgression of a law they hold so dear.

More tolerant souls might argue, in Governor Brewer’s defense, that the distinction is not as fixed in US English, that Spanglish is an influential linguistic force in Arizona, or that the governor was deliberately ‘dumbing down’ her grammar, in an effort to reach out to bone-headed red-neck constituents.

There may be a grain of truth to some of these excuses for a turn of phrase that the grammar-police would normally regard as an unforgivable faux pas. Nevertheless, I shall defend Governor Brewer’s choice of words on its own merits. It was not a slip, a sign of ignorance, an indication of ‘malign’ foreign influence, or an attempt to stoop to the hoi polloi. There was nothing ‘unconscious’ about her utterance; she had a very clear idea of the exact but ambiguous meaning she wanted to convey.

The Present Perfect is frequently used to indicate that an action is relatively recent, currently relevant and thus potentially reversible. To explain this, I like to tell the story of Ethel and Sid, an ageing couple who are preparing to leave home and embark on their first holiday abroad. If Ethel says to Sid “Have you turned off the gas?” (This story works better when dramatized in the classroom!) it implies that they are in a position to be able to turn back and turn it off, if need be. If Sid says “Did you turn off the gas?” we imagine the poor couple already on the plane to Tenerife. There is no turning back. Potential disaster looms.

When she said “I have vetoed this bill,” Governor Brewer was subtly indicating to her more conservative constituents, on whom she depends for re-election, that her decision is not necessarily final. “I vetoed this bill’ would have suggested a more flippant, authoritarian, preconceived and irreversible opinion.

So far so good. We have explained the governor’s use of the Present Perfect. But why add the grammatically ‘deviant’ fixed time phrase: ‘a few minutes ago’? This is where things get really interesting. By juxtaposing a present perfect with a fixed time phrase, Governor Brewer is able to flip the implications of the Present Perfect over to make them more palatable to liberal-minded constituents.

The phrase as a whole thus suggests a last-minute, but profound and informed, conversion to the liberal cause, combined with an openness to contrasting opinions and future debate, whilst boasting an ability to come to appropriate decisions on difficult issues in an admirably timely fashion.

This is a win-win scenario for the Governor of Arizona if ever there was one. And she did it all using ‘bad’ grammar!

Politicians are frequently criticized in popular discourse for being ‘all talk’ and using their ‘gift of the gab’ to dupe an electorate that is linguistically less well-endowed. Journalists are often all too eager to fill this perceived void. But we should be careful not to overlook the fact that the apparent, or even transparent, insincerity of political discourse is often carefully calibrated to defuse conflict in the name of the common good.

Policy-making is a minefield. Power is fragile and the potential for disaster is great. The foundations of assumed authority are always shifting and weak. We need a form of communication that is open to ambiguity, free to innovate, dynamic, and ultimately negotiable, to guide our way through this perilous swamp: a language that is at once biddable, flexible and robust.

Thankfully, we have just such a tool at our disposal. So long as the grammar police never convince us to give it up!