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Thoughts on genre, language, grammar, and other
rhetorical and linguistic norms |
 Image from Words Matter, Calvary on 8th Students, vimeo, CC license Alt-left, alt-right, and words creating false equivalency The eclipse could distract us only so long from the terrible violence and divisions in the world. The eclipse made many of us see our position in the universe more clearly—an experience of our smallness and our commonality that, for a brief moment, brought some sense of shared humanity. And this past weekend we in the US had another reminder—the devastating Hurricane Harvey and the disastrous flooding of Houston and one-quarter of the people in Texas that continues still. But even those singular experiences fade faster than the repeated violence, terrorism, and hatred around the world. The meanings of those repeated experiences are shaped by the people who comment on them, who tell us what those experiences mean. And those meanings become cemented through repetition, especially through the repetition of words. “Alt-right,” not white supremacists “Alt-left,” not counter-protestors In the face of this effort to create false equivalency between neo-Nazis and those who oppose racism, I feel the need to return to a point I’ve written about several times in several ways. The words we use matter If you have time, I’d ask you to reread a few of my earlier posts, to build the many ways the importance of the words we use plays out (there are more posts on words and meanings, but here are the most relevant today): How Words Reflect and Shape Us Alternative Words What does Alt-right really mean (though I would come down harder on the term today) As I wrote before: The words we use come from who we are, as individuals, a society, and a culture. Words reflect our values and beliefs, our ways of viewing the world. And they reflect our history, who we have been. And words may then shape our views of the world, too, influencing what we see and how we see. Or even whether we call a car wreck an “accident”: Instead of “accident,” highway patrols and safety agencies are using the words “crash” and “wreck.” According to Mark Rosekind, director of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, Or, from a more recent post, think about the ways our words present cancer as a battle. Maybe new ways of treating cancer will shift patients from “survivors” of a war to cohabiters or roommates, people “living with” cancer long-term. Words will always shape our perspective, like it or not. But, as journalists and other truth-tellers recognized in the early days of the current US presidency, “alternative facts” don’t become factual just because Kellyanne Conway says they are. They’re still falsehoods at the least, lies at the most. The danger lies in letting the words pass, as I argued before: If we come to accept statements contrary to documented facts as “alternatives” rather than wrong, then there’s nothing keeping anyone from asserting anything. In fact, [then press secretary Sean] Spicer argued that Trump can keep claiming with no substantiated evidence that millions of illegal votes were cast in the election, causing him to lose the popular vote, because it is his “long-standing belief.” The fact that there’s no evidence to support that claim—in fact, there is evidence to the contrary—matters not at all if “alternative facts” are justified by “belief.” We are indeed in a post-truth world. BUT We have the power to resist. My comments on sexual assault being dismissed as “locker room talk” have become relevant again: “The power of naming is that it’s not individual, but collective. One person can insist on framing it as “locker room talk,” but the framing succeeds only if others accept it. That’s the difference between naming and “spin.” Any publicist can attempt to spin a story, to reframe what happened in a different light. But naming comes from the culture that’s there, the beliefs and attitudes emerging from who we are and who we want to be, a framing already present among us. We still have the power to resist the renaming before it becomes so insidious that we stop noticing it. We are not yet in Orwell’s dystopian novel 1984. (Adding to a bit of an earlier post again:) When resisters are chided for being “alt-left” because they are an alternative to hatred, beware. When pronouns define a “we” that excludes large numbers of people* and a “them” that now seems to include you, beware. When well-established scientific evidence becomes part of a “debate” with “two sides,” beware. When the powers-that-be use the word “Islam” repeatedly and only in the label “radical Islamic terrorists,” beware. Now is the time, as it is happening and we can still recognize it. Don’t let powerful individuals usurp the power of naming. Assert our collective power to resist. Insist that our collective culture is not post-truth but knows the difference between fact and belief. Insist that we all, without excluding anyone, must watch what we say. Because we know these alternative truths-- Resistance is not futile.  geralt, pixabay, CC0 Public Domain
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 geralt, pixabay, CC0 Public Domain In my earlier post on Words Matter, I explored why it matters what we call things. It matters whether we call something a lie or an alternative fact, an alt-right group or neo-Nazis, or even, according to the highway patrols, an accident or a crash. I argued then two points: The words we use shape our perceptions and attitudes BUT We have the power to resist Recent events have made me want to revisit the topic. Words matter, but how much? Can words kill? Of course, I’m especially thinking of the case of Michelle Carter, the young woman found guilty of manslaughter for encouraging her boyfriend, Conrad Roy III, to kill himself. At one point, he got out of the truck that he had filled with exhaust fumes, apparently deciding for himself that he didn’t want to go through with it. His girlfriend texted him. She told him to get back in the truck. He did. He died. Did she kill him? She had been encouraging him to kill himself for weeks, according to the record of her messages, and she without a doubt did tell him to get back in the truck. She is obviously young, and she acted foolishly and cruelly. This case has been notable not only for the apparent heartlessness of the young woman but also for its conclusion that words can kill. Manslaughter requires that someone act recklessly and with wanton disregard for the likely consequences of the actions. It seems clear to me that Carter’s actions meet that standard. Or she knew exactly what she was doing and was acting not recklessly or with disregard but with full regard for the likely consequences. Previously (as I understand it from my many non-years of legal training), manslaughter required physical action. The defendant at least had to be physically present to be charged with, much less convicted of, manslaughter. But here is a case where the defendant is not present, except by phone. She doesn’t act, except through text messages and phone calls. If she killed him, she killed him with words. The judge focused on that moment when the young man had gotten out of the truck, feeling sick and stopping himself, as he reportedly had done many times before. He reached out to a loved one, a friend or family member, as he reportedly had done many times before. Many times before, those loved ones had said words that discouraged suicide, that reminded him of why he should live. This time, his loved one said words that encouraged suicide, that told him to go through with it. This time, words killed. So I’ve got to ask: In previous attempts, did words save him? If, according to the judge’s verdict, Michelle Carter had the power to kill Conrad Roy III with her words, “Get back in the truck,” do we have the power to save a suicidal friend by the words we use? That’s a lot of pressure on the family and friends of a suicidal person. Many people have known the pain of saying everything they could think of, offering many words of love and support, and still experiencing the suicide of a loved one. We all know that words are not always enough. Others have commented that the judge erred in allowing words alone to kill, saying that the young man is the one who got back in the truck, who had bought the equipment, drove to the secluded place and set up the equipment. In the end, the very end, he is the one who killed himself. But past history showed he wouldn’t have done so if not for the heartless words of Michelle Carter. Had he called someone else, he might still be alive. Who is responsible? I wrote before that words shape our attitudes and perceptions, but we have the power to resist. It’s hard not to think that Michelle Carter’s heartless words and actions contributed to Conrad Roy III’s death. It’s hard not to think that Roy would be alive otherwise. And if words matter, as I and others argue they do, words surely matter in this case. But do they matter that much? Because if so, then words are not just shaping but determining, not just powerful but inescapable. As much as I believe in the power of words, I can’t believe in them that much. If words have that much power, then language and rhetoric are instruments not just of influence or persuasion but of force. I started this post thinking that the judge was right, that words can kill, and here is a case where words most definitely killed. After all, how many times had I argued that it matters what we say, that saying is doing, that genres are not just linguistic forms but actions (nod here to genre followers!). How can I say that words matter, that language is action, and not accept that words can kill? Here’s how. Words act on us, shape us, influence us, create us, but we can resist. Contrary to the words of the Borg on Star Trek: The Next Generation, resistance is not futile. I preach not only that words matter but that we can become aware of how words shape us and choose to act differently. If we start to notice words, their power shifts. If they depend on a subconscious effect—like the use of pronouns to include some and exclude others—calling attention to them weakens that effect. If they depend on conscious manipulation—like using the pronoun “they” for singular people of any gender identification—calling attention to them gives them the only power they have. What about Conrad Roy III? Would it have turned out differently for him if he had become aware of how Michelle Carter was using her words to manipulate him? Would it have turned out differently if he had realized that he wouldn’t win the love of this young woman by doing what she told him to do? Or was he more aware of the power of her words than the news accounts have generally given him credit for? Did he contact her precisely because he knew what her words would be, because he needed, this time, to hear the words that would help him carry out what he had long planned but been unable to complete? Either way, I find I have to stop short of accepting that words can kill, without other actions accompanying them. Words alone can perjure someone, libel someone, or slander someone, but words alone can’t kill someone. Words can incite riots, encourage voting, instill hatred, and promote violence. But words alone can’t riot, vote, hate, or shoot someone. The implications of this case go way beyond what I’ve begun here. And the power of words needs still more exploration. I don’t buy the schoolyard saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me” Words can hurt me. Words can definitely hurt. But there are limits. The case of Michelle Carter and the pitiful Conrad Roy III may just have proved what those limits are.  Image from Words Matter, Calvary on 8th Students, vimeo, CC license By now, everyone surely knows about “alternative facts.” Trump’s press secretary Sean Spicer gave numbers for the crowd size at his inauguration that differed drastically from those of the National Park Service and media. In an interview with Chuck Todd on Meet the Press, counselor to Trump Kellyanne Conway called the administration’s statements “alternative facts.” The biggest problem here is that Conway called those statements “facts.” Todd pointed out that four of the five “facts” Spicer told were “just not true.” As he said, “Alternative facts are not facts. They’re falsehoods.” It matters what we call things. It matters what words we use. Words matter–that’s becoming a familiar topic for my blog, as some of you may recognize. It matters whether we call it “locker room talk” or “sexual assault.” It matters whether we call them “alt-right” or “white supremacists.” It even matters whether we say someone “passed” or “died” and whether the cause was a “crash” or an “accident.” It matters whether we call them “alternative facts,” “falsehoods,” or just plain “lies.” As I’ve explored in those other posts “the words we use shape our perceptions and attitudes.” If we come to accept statements contrary to documented facts as “alternatives” rather than wrong, then there’s nothing keeping anyone from asserting anything. In fact, Spicer argued yesterday that Trump can keep claiming with no substantiated evidence that millions of illegal votes were cast in the election, causing him to lose the popular vote, because it is his “long-standing belief.” The fact that there’s no evidence to support that claim—in fact, there is evidence to the contrary—matters not at all if “alternative facts” are justified by “belief.” We are indeed in a post-truth world. BUT We have the power to resist. My words from discussing locker room talk, with no idea it would be relevant again so soon: “The power of naming is that it’s not individual, but collective. One person can insist on framing it as “locker room talk,” but the framing succeeds only if others accept it. That’s the difference between naming and “spin.” Any publicist can attempt to spin a story, to reframe what happened in a different light. But naming comes from the culture that’s there, the beliefs and attitudes emerging from who we are and who we want to be, a framing already present among us.” We the people have the power to refuse that naming, at least when it’s new. The news media have the power to help the culture resist not just by calling out those counter-factual statements but also by choosing their words carefully when they report. The New York Times analyst Dan Barry explained the New York Times decision to call the current administration’s statements about illegal voting--and other demonstrably false repeated statements--“lies,” not soften them as “falsehoods” or "untruths" because 'Words matter." To call them “lies” is to assert intent behind those falsehoods, stating falsehoods as truths with full knowledge that they are false. Are these “alternative facts” just non-factual “falsehoods,” as Todd more gently named them? Or are these “alternative facts” better called knowing and deliberate “lies”? The media are making those decisions now, so now is a critical time in the collective’s ability to resist. The news media have long carried the role of watchdog, a clichéd name that presents the media as protectors of the people, barking and attacking when dangers threaten us. The current administration is trying to shift that perspective by shifting words. White House strategist and senior counselor Stephen Bannon this past week labeled the media as “the opposition party.” “You’re the opposition party. Not the Democratic Party. You’re the opposition party. The media’s the opposition party.” Notice the repetition, and not just of “opposition” but “opposition party”—you are the opposition party, the media is the opposition party, you are the opposition party. Say it long enough and maybe it will stick. To reframe the news media from “watchdog” to “opposition party” is to shift their role as protector of the people to protector of political interests. It’s no coincidence that Amazon sold out of paper versions of 1984, George Orwell’s classic 1949 novel about life under a totalitarian regime. To control the people and remove their trust in their own perceptions of reality, the regime controls the language, using “Newspeak” to redefine “alternative facts.” “War is peace. We are well past the year 1984 but not past the danger of Newspeak. Turning one powerful person’s beliefs into “alternative facts,” with anyone who says differently being the “opposition party,” threatens to make us question our own perception of reality and to question the reliability of our news sources. We are not there yet. Individuals are renaming reality, but the collective has not yet accepted it. Words and meanings are sneaky, though. They infiltrate the collective consciousness and reshape our thinking unawares—unless we resist that lack of awareness. Each of us can help resist. Challenge the media to be blunt and direct, and support the news outlets that in that way risk the administration’s punishments. And watch your own words, on social media, in classrooms, in conversations with friends. Stay alert to euphemisms, and call a lie a lie. “Alternative facts” is so outrageous a renaming that Todd jumped on it immediately. Bannon was far from subtle in pounding at the media as “opposition party.” But other attempts at renaming will be subtler and more insidious. When pronouns define a “we” that excludes large numbers of people* and a “them” that now seems to include you, beware. When well-established scientific evidence becomes part of a “debate” with “two sides,” beware. When the powers-that-be use the word “Islam” repeatedly and only in the label “radical Islamic terrorists,” beware. Now is the time, as it is happening and we can still recognize it. Don’t let powerful individuals usurp the power of naming. Assert our collective power to resist. Insist that our collective culture is not post-truth but knows the difference between fact and belief. Insist that we all, without excluding anyone, must watch what we say. Because we know these alternative truths-- Resistance is not futile. Words matter. *(As, to be fair, my own use of “we” in this column assumes an audience of people who privilege evidence over belief. Reread this post; notice and question the meaning of my “we” and “them.”)  Carla Npsg, George Orwell 1984, flickr, CC license |
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