Non-violent language
Over the past year my business partner Parker has gently corrected me when using phrases like “You killed it!” “You nailed it!” “We’re crushing it!” These corrections have helped me develop a new imagination. Even to “execute” a task sounds wrong to me now. You know how ubiquitous these phrases are. If you stop and think about it, so much of our daily speech is filled with violent language.
One signal of the fascinating software team at 37signals argues that “work isn’t war.”
Corporate language is filled with metaphors of war. Companies “conquer” the market, they “capture” mindshare, they “target” customers, they employ a sales “force”, they hire “head-hunters”, they “destroy” the competition, they pick their “battles”, and make a “killing”. That’s an awful paradigm and we want nothing to do with it. Work isn’t war. We come in peace.
It’s not just corporate language, of course. Today’s political rhetoric overflows with violence. Charlie Kirk said he wanted to destroy the libs, while some libs wish for death upon Donald Trump. Both sides of the aisle use violent rhetoric such that that violence turns physical.
A recent article in The Washington Post called “The consequences of America’s moral drift” by Governor Spencer Cox of Utah framed the problem and its solution well enough.
Twenty-first-century America is starving for the spiritual depth and moral direction that Coolidge identified. Too many Americans, especially the young, feel adrift. This is visible in high rates of loneliness, depression, anxiety, suicide and drug overdoses. It is further manifested in the rising tide of mistrust and the poison of political hatred, descending to violence. The young man who is accused of killing Charlie Kirk in Utah last month spent much of his life in the addictive cocoon of online gaming and message boards.
The problem feels fundamental; many people, including many leaders, seem unclear about who Americans are as a people, who they want to become and what kind of world they want to help build. This drift amounts to a civilizational crisis of agency, interwoven with an epidemic of addiction. Addressing this crisis will require the nation—as it approaches its first quarter-millennium—to reimagine the bounds of public life.
That’s the problem I’m growing more sensitive to these days, sparked by Parker’s corrections of my business rhetoric: Our words shape who we become. They shape the world we see, ultimately becoming reality. The more violent our expressions, the more violent our hearts become and thus our perspective toward those around us. The Bible speaks of our consciences becoming “seared,” and I’m learning that language is one of many brands.
I used to think that corrections like these were “just semantics.” The words didn’t matter as much as the intent—the content was more important than the container. Looking back, that’s a silly thing coming from someone with a creative writing and linguistics degree who read lexicography books for fun.
Of course words matter. Nowadays I’d go so far as to agree with PETA, something I never thought I’d say:
Sayings such as “kill two birds with one stone,” “beat a dead horse,” and “bring home the bacon” all normalize violent acts against some of the most defenseless members of our society.
They recommend we say instead, “feed two birds with one scone,” “feed a fed horse,” and “bring home the bagels.” Thanks for that reference too, Parker.
This sensitivity is bubbling up in me more now because of two opposing forces: political rhetoric on one side and the Spirit of God on the other.
The book of Proverbs contains dozens of admonitions for controlling one’s tongue, like “Patience can persuade a prince, and soft speech can break bones,” or “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger,” and “The tongue of the wise adorns knowledge, but the mouth of the fool gushes folly.”
When Jesus began his ministry, he opened with the Beatitudes found in Matthew 5, a beautiful introduction to the Sermon on the Mount. Among the first words publicly spoken by the Son of God were “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Violent language opposes peace.
Further into the New Testament, Paul taught the Galatians about the fruit of the Spirit. He said “the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
Paul contrasted this list with a vice list, among which are hostility, quarreling, outbursts of anger, dissension, and division. Language shapes and produces these traits and actions. “Let me tell you again, as I have before,” he emphasized, “that anyone living that sort of life will not inherit the Kingdom of God.”
When Paul wrote to his young protégé Timothy about the traits of a leader, he wrote, “He must not be a heavy drinker or be violent. He must be gentle, not quarrelsome, and not love money.”
Reading passages like this, and seeing my own relationships, my own heart, affected by words alone, pulls me toward gentleness and peace. The headlines on Fox News or MSNBC, the metaphors of war in business, the movies we watch, the songs we hear—much of it is directly opposed to the Kingdom of God, a kingdom we ought to be bringing to earth.
This is the work of public theology. We need a new moral imagination in the West, a new vision of virtue that will shape our civic life, our life with each other, living in community as the children of God.
Thankfully this work has already begun in many hearts and minds around the world. I see it when I speak with clients and how they’re transforming their businesses to be places that work toward the vision of the kingdom. I see it when I read certain writers even in international publications, writers like David Brooks and Ross Douthat both writing in The New York Times. The latter’s newest book is called Believe: Why Everyone Should Be Religious.
I see it in data as well. One recent article in The Guardian held the title “A revival is happening,” which described a resurgence of young people flooding back into churches. Just this weekend in Fort Worth, a popular Catholic priest, who claims a million followers on Instagram and TikTok, drew a crowd of 6,000 at Dickies Arena to explain four parables of Jesus.
While it may seem like our corporate and political language has crossed a chasm too wide, there are many reasons to hope. If we want to change our reality, it starts with how we talk about it.