Opinion
My maternal grandfather was a Yorkshireman, and a dour Yorkshireman at that. He didn’t say much, just glowered. Perhaps that’s why one family lunch stands out in my memory. He was usually very abstemious, so maybe it was the couple of beers that loosened his tongue. He began to tell us about his experiences as a tank transport driver in the North African desert in World War II.
Looking back, it seems obvious he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), but no one had heard of such a thing when I was a teenager. As he related a vivid and horrifying story, his eyes filled with tears. We were riveted, terrified that if we said anything it would break the spell. “Bloody war!” he said, dashing the tears from his eyes.
“Alfred!” We all turned to look at his wife, my gentle grandmother, the family’s keeper of the peace. A stern reprimand from her was as astonishing to me as his vulnerability. “There are children present!”
To her, “bloody” was a swear word, a bad word that, no matter how appropriate or heartfelt, should not be uttered – especially in polite company, and never in front of children. Never mind that this was the ’70s, when teenagers swore like troopers.
I started swearing young and I have never stopped. I love an expletive and none of them are off the table. I love how you can make even what many consider the worst word in the world (why the slang for female genitalia is still considered so foul is beyond me) express disgust, fury and hostility but also delight, admiration and surprise.
Frankly, I don’t believe there are any bad words or good words. There are just words, and we make them bad or good by the intent with which we use them. Being sworn at is horrible, but so is being insulted without the use of any so-called bad language. Sometimes it’s worse because it means the person who has cruelly skewered us has exerted some effort into getting the wounding words just right.
Unlike the prissy Americans, we call a spade an effing shovel with a cheeky grin. And the cheeky grin is important.
JANE CARO
As a professional writer, I know that words leached of their context just lie dead on the page. It is context that communicates the full impact and nuance of any word. I am proud of the inspired use Australians make of swear words.
I remember a scene in the 1984 TV series Bodyline, about the infamous Ashes tour when the English tried to neutralise Don Bradman by aiming their bowling at the Australian batters, not the stumps. In it, the posh English captain comes to the Aussie dressing room to complain that he’d been called a bastard on the field. The bloke who answers the door nods, then asks his teammates: “Which one of you bastards called this bastard a bastard?” Genius.
Unlike the prissy Americans, we call a spade an effing shovel with a cheeky grin. And the cheeky grin is important. Eighty per cent of any communication is not the words. It is who is using them, in what situation, and to whom. It is our facial expression, tone of voice, body language and the state of the relationship between sender and receiver. It is all this, not the words we choose, that reveals our intent.
“I love you, too!” said through gritted teeth, sarcastically, impatiently or as mockery, communicates the opposite, yet it is easy to deny the effect of context in the spoken word because it is ephemeral. Lots of gaslighting works this way.
“What more do you want? I said I loved you, didn’t I?”
“I want you to mean it!”
“I do mean it!”
These are good words used with bad intent, including plausible deniability, which can leave the receiver doubting their sanity. “I tell her I love her all the time,” grumbles the gaslighter. No, you don’t. You tell her the opposite – just not, as they say, in so many words.
Even racist epithets and gendered insults can be used for good, often within the communities who suffer most from such abuse. In that context, they can indicate trust, intimacy and a sense of belonging because they are used with affection, humour and camaraderie. The same words in someone else’s mouth, someone who wants to hurt, can cut to the bone.
Our governments are moving to strengthen legislation against hate speech. Fair enough. Words can be and are used to incite real-world violence. However, we must guard against removing someone’s words from their context, stripping them of nuance and then pointing the finger. Because who exactly is being hateful then?
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