When We Weaponize Words
Words are kind of funny. I think they're an amazing way to communicate, I mean giving sound combinations meaning. . . it's a cool thing.
But (I think) because ideas in our heads are so close to and influential of our central identities, when we are tasked with interpreting somebody else's words, they can shift our ideas in ways that question our identities, or make us feel pain or at least discomfort.
This is not new for most of us: we're always meeting with ideas that make us uncomfortable, whether that's the near-porn of alcohol commercials, or vitriol against a protected class, or even well-meant criticism. The discomfort of strangeness is a commonplace.
I think each person creates a pattern for meeting and dealing with other peoples' ideas, and I think this pattern can vary along a vast spectrum from "if I didn't have the thought, then it must be wrong" to utter boredom with any thought that comes around a second time. I know people who will immediately reject any new idea, and then embrace it moments later after they have thought it through. I know people who accept any new idea aligned with their political perspective, whether they have thought it through or not. I know people who sort new ideas by the source, or by the age of the thought, which is a kind of arbitrary authority. These last types also come in a spectrum from "I have one recognized source" to "I listen only to men" (this can be subconscious) to "unless you're Hitler, you might have a valid point."
Students of philosophy and theory get tied into knots here, because some really amazing and influential ideas can come from hideously flawed sources. *see Heidegger
One pattern of meeting new or contrary ideas is to weaponize words. It can happen on both sides of the barrel. We hurl expectations at each-other, like "humility" "dependability" and "charity," as if we have any right to expect others to change to suit us, just because they have developed different ways of living, and different value sets. We attack what is unfamiliar in others.
On the other end, we can also take words attached to ideas that we fear, and turn them into weapons against ourselves, setting us up as martyrs in causes we haven't fully examined, sometimes simply because we define ourselves only in conflict.
I had a conversation with a man at church the other day. We started out as just talking, sort of chatting congenially. It was friendly and light-hearted. But the instant I introduced a word that represented something he feared, he attacked.
We internalize the words. I have no doubt that despite his privilege, he truly believed he was a martyr to this one word that could have been a bridge between us without the need to change a single opinion. We can disagree about the meanings of words, and I hope we disagree about the ideas behind them, and still be friendly.
If we make words into weapons, then we can beat them into ploughshares. Think of the word you hate the most, the thing you fear the most and the word that describes it, the one you post about most on Facebook, the one you spit through your teeth with the most poison. Think of your pet peeve, and those whom you have come to consider your enemy. They do not oppose you out of sheer, wanton evil. Even people who adhere to ideas we fear and hate probably found those ideas through part of themselves that is good and divine. Perhaps we think it has been averted or distracted, but that part of themselves that makes them your enemy is the part of themselves you might most admire - their loyalty, sincerity, ingenuousness, passion, resourcefulness, or dedication to an ideal.
Weaponized words are only effective against people, but people aren't the enemy. If you want to fight an idea, then try using words in a different way.
But (I think) because ideas in our heads are so close to and influential of our central identities, when we are tasked with interpreting somebody else's words, they can shift our ideas in ways that question our identities, or make us feel pain or at least discomfort.
This is not new for most of us: we're always meeting with ideas that make us uncomfortable, whether that's the near-porn of alcohol commercials, or vitriol against a protected class, or even well-meant criticism. The discomfort of strangeness is a commonplace.
I think each person creates a pattern for meeting and dealing with other peoples' ideas, and I think this pattern can vary along a vast spectrum from "if I didn't have the thought, then it must be wrong" to utter boredom with any thought that comes around a second time. I know people who will immediately reject any new idea, and then embrace it moments later after they have thought it through. I know people who accept any new idea aligned with their political perspective, whether they have thought it through or not. I know people who sort new ideas by the source, or by the age of the thought, which is a kind of arbitrary authority. These last types also come in a spectrum from "I have one recognized source" to "I listen only to men" (this can be subconscious) to "unless you're Hitler, you might have a valid point."
Students of philosophy and theory get tied into knots here, because some really amazing and influential ideas can come from hideously flawed sources. *see Heidegger
One pattern of meeting new or contrary ideas is to weaponize words. It can happen on both sides of the barrel. We hurl expectations at each-other, like "humility" "dependability" and "charity," as if we have any right to expect others to change to suit us, just because they have developed different ways of living, and different value sets. We attack what is unfamiliar in others.
On the other end, we can also take words attached to ideas that we fear, and turn them into weapons against ourselves, setting us up as martyrs in causes we haven't fully examined, sometimes simply because we define ourselves only in conflict.
I had a conversation with a man at church the other day. We started out as just talking, sort of chatting congenially. It was friendly and light-hearted. But the instant I introduced a word that represented something he feared, he attacked.
We internalize the words. I have no doubt that despite his privilege, he truly believed he was a martyr to this one word that could have been a bridge between us without the need to change a single opinion. We can disagree about the meanings of words, and I hope we disagree about the ideas behind them, and still be friendly.
If we make words into weapons, then we can beat them into ploughshares. Think of the word you hate the most, the thing you fear the most and the word that describes it, the one you post about most on Facebook, the one you spit through your teeth with the most poison. Think of your pet peeve, and those whom you have come to consider your enemy. They do not oppose you out of sheer, wanton evil. Even people who adhere to ideas we fear and hate probably found those ideas through part of themselves that is good and divine. Perhaps we think it has been averted or distracted, but that part of themselves that makes them your enemy is the part of themselves you might most admire - their loyalty, sincerity, ingenuousness, passion, resourcefulness, or dedication to an ideal.
Weaponized words are only effective against people, but people aren't the enemy. If you want to fight an idea, then try using words in a different way.
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