The lion’s pen
NOT everyone is a fan of Nadine Gordimer’s novels. They are not easy to read, partly because they say things that are not easy to hear. Her uncompromising blade tore through the lies we wrap around our failings, exposing the worst of human hypocrisy, prejudice and apathy. That takes not only skill but strength and bravery, all of which she possessed by the bucketful.
Among the tributes flooding papers and websites this week was one in the Wall Street Journal, which quoted a letter from Gordimer to Salman Rushdie, who at the time was being persecuted for his words. In it she wrote:
“Written words still have the amazing power to bring out the best and the worst of human nature. We ought to treat words the way we treat nuclear energy or genetic engineering — with courage, caution, vision and precision.”
She also once said, “Nothing factual that I write or say will be as truthful as my fiction”, but I think her factual advice about the power of words and the way we should approach them was about as truthful as anything gets.
Words are tricky things. Some are straightforward, others are not to be trusted. “Ambivalent” is a word that has trouble making up its mind. You never know which way it is going to turn. Dodgy words that keep company with ambivalent are “shifty”, “opaque” and “vacillate” (not to be confused with “vaccinate”, which is a strong, healthy word).
On the opposite side of the field are words such as “clear”, “direct”, “lucid” and “transparent”. These are words you can see through, honest words that make their intentions known from the start. They are good friends with courage, caution, vision and precision, those noble words (no doubt chosen with great care and after much thought) used in Gordimer’s letter.
Words have been around for a long time. Each carries its own history and bears its own battle scars. Some words come with so much baggage that we are afraid to use them. We close our eyes and flinch if we so much as see them on a page. But, like money, words are not inherently good or bad. It’s the way they are wielded that gives them power.
A weapon can be made out of almost any innocent material. Even hedgehogs can be used as weapons. In the same way, good words can go bad in the wrong hands. “Love”, for example, is a well-intentioned word that has, on many an occasion, been horribly perverted. Stop (in the name of love) and think before you misuse it.
Words are harmless while lying quietly untouched in drawers or dictionaries. Only once they are picked up and pointed at someone do they become dangerous. “Agent” is a word as bland and innocuous as custard, but fling it at a person’s head and it can cause great damage. It can be difficult to tell what effect words might have. Without censoring ourselves (or anyone else), we need to develop some sort of filter through which words go before we speak or write. If they have any rough edges that might be unwittingly harmful, best to put them back in the bag, give it a shake and draw a new word.
Gordimer believed in freedom of speech. It is a right that must be defended with every stroke of our pens and stab at our keyboards, but being free means taking responsibility for our own words. Words can hurt, heal, console, caress, deflate and defeat. A word can bounce back off its target and bite the hand that wrote it.
In our selection of words, we should be as choosy as apple pickers, sending out only the worthiest specimens into the world, and keeping the rest for private consumption.