If someone could only hear one word from you ever, what would that word be? I'm guessing it would be 'love' or 'friend' or 'God' or something similar.
Why, then, I wonder, is so much of our speech filled with the words 'hate' and 'war' and 'combat' and 'troops' and 'hurt'.
Why is it so much easier to say 'I hurt' than to say 'I love'?
Even in community-driven events like Relay for Life, our language is filled with the words of combat, perhaps understandable when what is opposed is something as formidable as cancer. But does it make sense that volunteers are referred to as troops and that military imagery filled the air yesterday in my own community's Relay event?
Language matters. Linguists tell us again and again that our words not only reflect our understanding of things; words actually shape our understanding of things. Professional propagandists have understood this for centuries.
Try this exercise for a week: keep a log or just a piece of scrap paper with you and jot down every reference you speak or hear that uses the language of violence and war to refer to something other than actually being in a fight with some one or some nation. (Example: 'I hate fish', to mean 'I do not like the taste of fish'). If you want to make it more interesting, add a column for when those engaged in violence or the 'business' of war use other words to disguise what they're actually talking about (example: 'collateral damage' to mean 'civilian dead').
I have done no formal studies, but a few observations of interest: (1) the more violent we are in war, the less likely we are to name what we're actually doing in that war; (2) the more engaged we are as a nation in violent conflict or war, the more the language of violent conflict and war creeps into everyday usage (so that volunteers suddenly become 'troops'); and (3) for some reason which escapes me, we the people of these United States (I can't speak to other countries on this) are absolutely unwilling to accept that there is any connection between the violence and militarization of our language and the violence and militarization of our behavior as adults, even while stressing the importance that our children hear words of love from us and helping our children develop coping strategies to deal with the harmful effects of hurtful language from the playground.
It is my hope at the end of the week, you'll come away with new awareness about the words inside and around you and with new commitment to emphasize the language of peace and reconciliation rather than the language of militarization and war and violence.
Why, then, I wonder, is so much of our speech filled with the words 'hate' and 'war' and 'combat' and 'troops' and 'hurt'.
Why is it so much easier to say 'I hurt' than to say 'I love'?
Even in community-driven events like Relay for Life, our language is filled with the words of combat, perhaps understandable when what is opposed is something as formidable as cancer. But does it make sense that volunteers are referred to as troops and that military imagery filled the air yesterday in my own community's Relay event?
Language matters. Linguists tell us again and again that our words not only reflect our understanding of things; words actually shape our understanding of things. Professional propagandists have understood this for centuries.
***
Try this exercise for a week: keep a log or just a piece of scrap paper with you and jot down every reference you speak or hear that uses the language of violence and war to refer to something other than actually being in a fight with some one or some nation. (Example: 'I hate fish', to mean 'I do not like the taste of fish'). If you want to make it more interesting, add a column for when those engaged in violence or the 'business' of war use other words to disguise what they're actually talking about (example: 'collateral damage' to mean 'civilian dead').
I have done no formal studies, but a few observations of interest: (1) the more violent we are in war, the less likely we are to name what we're actually doing in that war; (2) the more engaged we are as a nation in violent conflict or war, the more the language of violent conflict and war creeps into everyday usage (so that volunteers suddenly become 'troops'); and (3) for some reason which escapes me, we the people of these United States (I can't speak to other countries on this) are absolutely unwilling to accept that there is any connection between the violence and militarization of our language and the violence and militarization of our behavior as adults, even while stressing the importance that our children hear words of love from us and helping our children develop coping strategies to deal with the harmful effects of hurtful language from the playground.
***
It is my hope at the end of the week, you'll come away with new awareness about the words inside and around you and with new commitment to emphasize the language of peace and reconciliation rather than the language of militarization and war and violence.
Good post, Beth. Food for thought.
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