The eruption over language politics this week at Dkos has led me to reflect on my own use of words.
Some conclusions come easily: if a member of my community finds a word (or a particular use of it) objectionable, then I will only use it if I conclude that the outcome of my using the word is more important to me than the offence I will give by using it. Obama’s use of the n-word in June provides a good example of a powerful, offensive word, used to powerful, positive effect. When I choose to write a comment or a diary at a political website I implicitly recognize that words have political power, so surely I have some responsibility to use powerful words with intentionality.
So why did I not even notice, let alone take offence, at the use of the word “rape” as a metaphor for damaging the environment? After all, “rape” is one of our most powerful words by virtue of the act it denotes.
Some thoughts on this below….
Part of my complaisance is because the “rape of nature” is an old and commonplace metaphor. Of course the n-word was once common too, so this isn’t a very good answer. If language is political, then forcing offensive words out of it is a reasonable political objective. I consider myself a progressive, so for me, “we’ve always done it this way” is a weak defense.
But what is it that makes this particular metaphor offensive to some?
One answer may be that it is a bad metaphor. Rape is one the most personal of crimes, a violent, brutal affront to human dignity. Its aim is to control another person, and so it is an assault on the very identity of the victim.
By comparison the destruction of nature may be criminal, and in our current environmental state it may have dire human consequences, but it is not personal in the visceral, violent manner of sexual assault. It is not an attack on individual dignity and identity. The destruction of nature is usually impersonal, an attack on all humans but not on any one.
This leads to a good argument against the “rape of nature” metaphor: it depersonalizes what is, for far too many people, a highly personal experience. If what happens to nature is rape, then what happens to individuals will need a different word. And of course, in the long term that would rob the metaphor itself of its power.
The “rape of nature” metaphor is problematic on another level too, because it is infused with patriarchal undercurrents. Another commonplace metaphor refers to nature, untouched by humans, as “virgin”: there are “virgin forests,” and land that has never been plowed is “virgin soil.” Nature itself is “mother” (though how Mother Nature can be a virgin is a completely different issue). Nobody argues that humans should not make any use of nature, so the “rape” metaphor refers to a particularly destructive use, sometimes described as “wanton” – a word which can also be applied to a women who is “sexually immodest or promiscuous” (OED).
What word, then, do we use to describe acceptable, responsible uses of nature? “Husbandry,” my wife suggests with considerable irony. And of course she is right: we call the responsible use of nature “husbandry.”
I certainly don’t think that people who use the “rape of nature” metaphor are consciously intending it as a patriarchal construct, but I can understand how some people may – perhaps even subconsciously – react against its patriarchal associations.
None of this is exactly a case against using the word “rape” metaphorically. It is, however, a case for using it (and other powerful political words) with great care and intentionality. Do I think, for example, that the clear-cutting of forests truly ranks on a scale of atrocities as equal to the mass rapes carried out in ethnic cleansing? I don’t. Ethnic cleansing is an intentional and horrific attack on human identity, while clear cutting is an impersonal act of destruction born of the pursuit of profit. For all my intense dislike of clear cutting, I will not call it rape.
I entitled this diary a “personal reflection.” For me, the conclusion is clear. I cannot think of a case when the metaphorical use of the word “rape” could be so important to me that I would intentionally offend members of my own community (or anyone else) by using it. I will use powerful political words with intentionality. When I unintentionally offend, I’ll listen to those whom I’ve offended and try to learn from them. To do otherwise would be to betray my progressive beliefs.