The language of hurt

A recent video circulating on Facebook, created for February 21, starts with a living room scene in a well-off household. A young girl of about eight or nine years – a house maid with bedraggled hair and a tired face – walks past her employer's daughter who is roughly as old as her. She watches the girl lounging comfortably on the couch, getting hugged by a mother who loves her, and cuddling a stuffed toy she has the privilege to love just as much. Distracted by the scene, the young house maid drops the cup of tea she has been asked to serve. Her employer rises up and threatens to slap her for her inefficiency. The scene then cuts to other scenarios – an old father insists on packing his son's suitcase, much to his grown up son's annoyance; a suited up man snaps rudely at an old, exhausted-looking porter trailing after him; a man driving a car calls out to a shocked pedestrian with an expletive, after almost crashing into him.

The unifying theme is apparent as the camera focuses on the upset faces in each situation. Their expressions, hurt and humiliated, symbolise the wounds inflicted by abusive language that seems to have become a social norm today. From threatening violence against the domestic help, insulting the background of anyone who mistakenly bumps into us on the road, to humiliating a rickshaw-puller who deigns to ask for more change than we think they deserve, language seems to have become an instrument used to demean others and revel in a false sense of superiority against those who cannot fight back.

A survey by Telenor last year revealed 49 percent of the student body in Bangladesh to either have bullied others, or been harassed themselves on the internet. In more severe cases, especially among teenage users, public humiliation on social media pushes victims to resort to self harm and even suicide. People who suffer from overweight and other medical issues, disabilities, familial discord, or low self esteem tend to face particularly serious mental and social implications of such acts of cruelty.

Cases of sexual harassment have become especially common of late. A story published by this newspaper last year, titled Digital Sexual Harassment in Digital Bangladesh, elaborates on how vulgar photoshopped images are often used to terrorise innocent women who may not even have been involved with the perpetrators in any way; more importantly, how rarely they receive significant help and respect in reporting against these crimes. In some cases, the images are shared through fake social media accounts, making it impossible to hold credible proof and file a case against the perpetrator. Of course, this doesn't stop the onslaught of vile comments, insults, and even violent threats "slut-shaming" the victims, who are then pushed to take extreme measures to escape the embarrassment.

This culture of taking pride in belittling others, or feeling entitled enough to hurl abuse at relatives, employees, friends, and even strangers, demands reflection on our part. How many people did we hurt or insult in our rush to battle through the traffic this morning?

Recently, the raging popularity of a group called "Your Filtered and Other Inbox Messages" on Facebook has become an especially graphic proof of just how far online harassment can go. It is a platform for users to share screenshots of everything from hilariously worded romantic messages, to vulgar innuendoes and images sent to woo or harass them. On the one hand, the group serves as a safe space. The shower of comments showing indignation on victims' behalf, and the suggestions on how to deal with the vulgar advances, provide support and encouragement to those who are subjected to harassment. However, some of the messages shared on the group tend to come from harmless admirers who simply have poor vocabulary in English or an unusual way of writing. They can simply be ignored or politely turned down at the very least. Baring their messages, names, and pictures at the mercy of limitless public scrutiny and ridicule is a gross abuse of their privacy, not to mention a childish and cruel way of dealing with unwanted attention.

In today's age of the internet in which digital and social media are the strongest and most influential forms of communication, these trends reflect the level to which use of language has deteriorated. This, in addition to the verbal cruelty practiced in almost all spheres of the society, in a way explains the increasing reach of violence and the growing lack of empathy in our midst, taking forms of intolerance of diversity and open-mindedness.

These effects are addressed in the promotional video about International Mother Language Day on Facebook. It highlights commonly traded words – chotolok, biroktikor, oshobhho, opodarthho – as they become etched onto the skins of those who receive them, unnoticed by others, but hurtful nonetheless.

The Sapir Whorf hypothesis in linguistics explains how the language we speak shapes the thoughts, behaviour, culture, and patterns of society around us. Regardless of theoretical studies, the power of words to influence a society has been proved throughout history – from the Soviet Russians' control over literature to influence public perception, to the killing of writers and artists during our own Liberation war. Language, used in the right way, has the power to heal and uplift, and also cause destruction. It is imperative that we realise that, and take note of the effects our words can have on the lives around us. 

This culture of taking pride in belittling others, or feeling entitled enough to hurl abuse at relatives, employees, friends, and even strangers, demands reflection on our part. How many people did we hurt or insult in our rush to battle through the traffic this morning? Who among our friends may secretly be suffering from harassment online or in real life? Which of our relatives did we unknowingly humiliate through our clever rebuke on a Facebook post?

Sixty-five glorious years have passed since we won the right to our own language. A week after this year's International Mother Language Day, as the choruses of Ekushey February fade and the wreaths laid on the Shaheed Minar begin to wither, as we switch back to our regular, banal lives, how appropriately are we using our right to speak as we choose?

The writer is a student at North South University, and a member of the editorial team, The Daily Star.