In the United States, there is division on how to react to the “N” word. There are those who believe that it is acceptable when it is used by and among fellow African-Americans and uttered in a casual and joking manner. It is a matter of taking back the power, substituting contemporary usage, and dispossessing the word of its historically pejorative signification.
And then, there are those who believe that it is simply unacceptable to use the word, because doing so — in whatever context — recalls the harsh reality of slavery and even risks making it seem as though the practice was acceptable at that time.
Recently, militant protesters introduced a modification to their take on planking from some months back — using the President’s name in vain, verbalizing it in such a way as to ridicule the President. Without, in any way, saying that this parallels the context and experience of our African-American brethren, there appears to be a similar dilemma that runs through both: how does one speak of something that does not bear repeating?
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The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein regards language as the realm of being. Indeed, it is with our words that we encounter, define, and describe our reality.
What, then, does it say about us, as a people, when we subject our President to ridicule? When we speak ill of others, don’t our choice of words speak ill of our manners and ourselves? Is it really too much to ask of people to not be rude?
The ridicule is unfair, as it is unfortunate. That we have come a long way from the mass demonstrations and protest actions of yesteryear might simply mean that we have strayed so far from their meaning. Back in those days, protest actions were meaningful because the choice of style and manner helped in furthering the message.
And what message, exactly, was it that was meant to be conveyed? That doing “something” would bring down fuel prices? Never mind, of course, that the price of oil is dictated by global market forces, that is beyond the power of any country to dictate, and much less by any one person.
Our freedom of speech is made more virtuous by the gaps of silence that indicate a certain level of consideration and deliberation. Otherwise, it’s just noise and mindless chatter.
The next time detractors feel like ridiculing the President, they might wish to consider what Elvis Presley advised: “Don’t criticize what you don’t understand, son. You never walked in that man’s shoes.” If they’re honest enough with themselves, they might realize that the man has actually walked more than they’ve talked.
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It is an oft-repeated refrain that public officials should not be onion-skinned and should be able to withstand and tolerate criticisms. What constitutes acceptable “criticism,” however, has not been sufficiently spelled out. Our norms and standards as a people seem to tolerate even “ridicule” as falling under the ambit of criticism. One needs only to listen to some radio commentators to hear examples of how often and how much insults are cast upon the names of public officials. (That these radio programs continue to exist and thrive indicates that there is a segment of the market that takes pleasure in listening to vicious and biting attacks.)
If we peel away the years, we will find that one of the earliest jurisprudential usages of the term “onion-skinned” was not as an admonition to the public officials to hold back their tears. In the 1958 administrative case against Atty. Florentino E. Pilar for Conduct Unbecoming of a Lawyer, the Supreme Court, speaking through Justice Jose Bengzon said: “although public officials are not supposed to be onion-skinned, neither are they supposed to be so thick-skinned as to be impervious to groundless personal attacks”— and rightly so. (Of course, it goes without saying that public officials should also be circumspect in their words and deeds, let the dish they serve be returned and found tasteless.) Having the “don’t be onion-skinned” reminder, ready in tow after every personal attack, is akin to apologizing right before making an offensive gesture: doing so is insincere and hypocritical.
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When words and actions calibrated to offend are said and gestured, is it entirely unreasonable for a public official to take offense? The saying of our youth “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” does not quite accommodate the sting and hurt that we are able to inflict upon others. As we age and mature, we are expected to be more deliberate in our choice of language and, in so doing, relate to others in a more meaningful way. Truly, a person who doesn’t feel the hurt of hurtful words is either calloused or simply not listening. (There is another saying from our childhood that’s worth taking to heart, “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”)
Yet, there are times when we let our cynicism get the better of us. We subject some of our public officials to such harsh criticisms, and expect them to bear it with a grin. Can there be anything sillier than the image of a person who smiles through castigation and chastisement? It’s as absurd as the parent who breaks from spanking, only to ask the child to stop crying — and proceeds to spank some more, when the child sobs inconsolably so.
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When we keep repeating our irreverence, our redundancy risks us becoming irrelevant. If we keep hurling invectives and harsh words against our public officials, then the only ones left standing might be those who have grown a second-hide as to become unfeeling — or those so thick-faced as to fake their feelings.
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“I criticize by creation, not by finding fault.” — Cicero
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E-mail: deanbautista@yahoo.com