Words matter and we all need to take more care when using them
ANEWS report on RTE caused my ears to prick up with alarm the other day. It concerned a tragedy in which a father and son drowned in Lough Keel in Co Donegal. As is the nature of radio headlines the facts were relayed in a concise, rapid way. But it was the final line that struck with me: the victims are not believed to be Irish (to paraphrase what was said).
To anyone Irish listening to the report there doesn’t, on the face of it, seem to be anything wrong with what was stated, but according to the last Census in 2016 there are 535,475 people from other countries residing in Ireland. The bulletin struck me: one: because of the tragedy which had unfolded to the father and son who were out enjoying the lake near their family holiday home, and two because I suddenly had a sense that they are being described as other.
The momentousness of the tragedy seemed to cry out to a common, shared human instinct; one of protection and empathy. What did it matter that they weren’t Irish, really. The story was a tragedy of human proportions.
I’m not blaming the journalist who wrote the lines. As someone who regularly condenses large, emotive stories into a few paragraphs for the front page every other week, I know the challenges involved and how much difference a few words can make. A tragedy within a community is something all local reporters write about often. They are part of life and within the pages of your local newspaper you can find such stories, alongside stories of great generosity, positivity and hope. The very fact that one in eight of people who comprise our population were born abroad shows how diverse a country we have become. We are all connected in so many ways, as the aforementioned deceased were to the community in Coolboy, no doubt.
I, for one, never liked the term non-national. Why apply a negative to anyone, especially if you’ve never even met them to confirm any such negativity. When my family emigrated to America I worked in a family restaurant alongside some black co-workers. We all got along famously and they loved my Irish accent. One day I dropped a clanger, referring to one of the lads as coloured. It was a mistake I didn’t repeat as the correct terminology was relayed to me with a knowing look, followed by an understanding smile.
As an Irishman, with some American, Scottish, German and Scandi blood coursing through my veins, I have an innate desire to get to know as many people as humanly possible. Sometimes I suffer from foot-in-mouth malfunctions and have to dig myself out of social situations, but hey, we’re all human.
The way we speak to and address each other is very important. Green party leader Eamon Ryan came acropper after he used the ‘n’ word while highlighting racism in the Dáil. He quickly apologised and that apology was genuine, but it once again highlighted how much we have to learn. We can’t give oxygen to racist words, even if they are common in black culture. The murder of George Floyd was just one example of the violence meted out to black Americans on a daily basis. As I write CNN are broadcasting footage of a choke hold being used on a man in New York City over the weekend. I am no expert and am not claiming to have the answers. A US police chief from New Ross who I interviewed recently spoke of holding circle talks in marginalised communities, whereby police officers can communicate openly, vulnerably, with people. Why? Because words matter. Black Lives Matter.