Some words are a key to the spirit of our time. This is particularly true of trendy words. It was remarked long ago that “whatever” summarizes an attitude bereft of solid truths or principles, and that the ubiquitous “like” is emblematic of a culture of imitation, artificial and inauthentic. The widely used “random” suggests a universe where everything happens by chance and nothing has purpose or meaning. The pervasive “grab,” one could theorize, reveals the acquisitive mindset of an aggressively materialist culture.
Some words are generational. The proliferation of childish expressions like “scary” and “way more” betokens the immaturity of the Baby Boomers, or perhaps the infantilism of coddled Millennials. Other words, dignified and even profound in themselves, have become trite through over-use: “passionate” (as in, “He is passionate about truffles”) is a notorious example. The related “compassion,” which conveniently bridges religious and philosophical divides, has become undeservedly banal. One can hardly read a description of a chocolate dessert without gagging on the hackneyed “decadent.”
And then there are the recent and disturbing phrases “post-truth” and “alternative facts.” The first, of course, is a logical impossibility, a marker of social attitudes rather than a descriptor of reality – rather like Nietzsche’s “God is dead.” The latter is more insidious, echoing the “multiple truths” posited by the very intellectuals who now complain that a certain administration has turned their ideas against them. Perhaps there is such a thing as earthly justice.
Ukraine has its share of words and phrases that mirror the Zeitgeist. The term “fobiynyi” encapsulates a whole range of phobias current in both Ukraine and America. I have seen an accomplished diaspora intellectual taken to task for using terms like “homophobia” and “Islamo-phobia.” But what, exactly, is a phobia? The Greek “phobos” means fear. We thus have acrophobia (fear of heights) and triskaidekaphobia (fear of the number 13). The term has also come to mean “hate,” even though there is a perfectly serviceable Greek term for that, “misos” (as in “misanthropy” and “misogyny”). Since hate is often born of fear, however, there is a certain logic in words like xenophobia (Ukrainian: “ksenofobiya”) – we hate the foreign because we fear it.
Fear, of course, can be reasonable. But a phobia is by definition irrational, being an inordinate or unreasonable fear. Whether certain fears are reasonable is debatable. Hence the problem with words like “Islamophobia.” Some would argue that a fear of Islam, or of Muslims, is rational because of their history of violence. Others would counter that the hatred born of such a fear is irrational, especially when directed towards ordinary Muslims or towards a religion with such a broad spectrum of interpretations (see Qur’an 2:256).
What about Ukrainophobia and Russophobia? Russian fear of Ukrainians may be reasonably based on the possibility that Ukrainian ideals of freedom and democracy might undermine the Putin regime. Ukrainian fear of Russia is rational because Russia is big, aggressive and at war with Ukraine. Thus, there is no such thing as Ukrainophobia or Russophobia in the sense of a pathological condition. But if we understand these terms to mean “hate” rather than “fear,” they become meaningful, if regrettable. There are Russians who hate Ukrainians, and there are Ukrainians who hate Russians.
It is not only the “fobiyni” words that have caught on in Ukraine. And though its political culture differs from ours, the same problem arises when politically loaded words gain currency. Thus, those who use “racism” or “progressive” are presumed to be liberals or leftists. Yet a phrase like “social justice,” which some consider leftist, has long been used, for example, in Catholic social teaching, which is hardly socialist. That Marxist favorite, “oppression,” can legitimately be used in a non-Marxist sense.
Yet the terms we use can signal our view of an entire issue. Whether we say “fetus” or “unborn child” is a fair predictor of our attitude towards abortion. Using the words “living in sin,” “cohabiting” or “living together” conveys a moral judgment, or a lack thereof. While “gay” is positive and “homosexual” is neutral, the gay movement has adopted the negative “queer” and, through playful irony, transformed it into a token of pride. Similarly, many have turned Hillary Clinton’s “deplorable” into a badge of honor.
Widespread use of a certain vocabulary can even establish a way of thinking. Thus, the popularization of Freudian terms like “ego,” “repression” and “sublimation” has perpetuated the Viennese doctor’s theories, even when they have been disputed or discredited. Moreover, popular but careless use of catch terms derived from high theory, such as Einstein’s “relativity,” can spread misinformation and misunderstanding.
Another way in which words can be deceptive is the euphemism. During the Vietnam war, “collateral damage” became notorious, though it could also be categorized as military jargon, like “friendly fire.” It has surfaced again in connection with drone strikes. The phrase “a woman’s choice” is telling because of what it does not tell: what it is that is being chosen. Even more euphemistic is “our right to control our bodies” – as if it were a matter of suppressing the hiccups. Euphemisms protect those who condone acts like abortion and drone strikes – both of which, though they differ in specific intent, kill innocents who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – from excessive candor.
Although nominalists might disagree, one can argue that if a word exists, there must be a reality behind it. The Loch Ness monster may not really exist, but “Nessie” is a durable legend. Yet if every word depicts a reality, does inventing a word create a new reality? The acronym LGBT, for example, has turned an imagined community into a real one – much as happened, according to Benedict Anderson, with nations. Some imaginings, to be sure, are best forgotten. Hence the recent furor in Germany over bringing back words like “völkisch,” which raise the ghost of the Third Reich.
Words, then, are dangerous. Use them carefully.
Andrew Sorokowski can be reached at [email protected].