I’d like to say a few words in favour of bad language. In days gone by, swearing was said to be the mark of a coarse and uneducated person (usually a man).
And yet I think there’s a degree of hypocrisy in that charge. It would be more accurate to say that swearing in a public forum might be a mark of coarseness, but plenty of educated people indulge themselves behind closed doors.
If you’ve ever attended a federal/provincial meeting of senior civil servants or politicians, you know what I mean. The air is often blue.
Again, there are video clips online of TV news readers resorting to profanities when they thought the microphone was turned off. Or Pierre Trudeau in the House of Commons muttering “fuddle duddle” (as he later put it), because he believed his remark would go unrecorded.
It’s said you could hear the same language in private-sector board meetings, or at Victorian dinner parties after the ladies had withdrawn.
The reasons behind this intemperate behaviour likely vary. Stress, frustration, anger, disappointment, etc., all play a part.
But I doubt it has anything to do with ignorance or lack of education. A study published in the journal Language Studies found that university students who used bad language tended to have greater linguistic fluency.
The uncomfortable truth is, swearing serves some very valuable purposes. There is research showing that an outburst of bad language diminishes the pain of an injury, at least temporarily. (Who hasn’t muttered something unprintable when hitting one’s thumb with a hammer?) Apparently, swearing activates chemicals that interfere with nerve signals to the brain.
That same research suggests cursing can have a calming effect. A volley of words beginning, as Winston Churchill liked to say, with the earlier letters of the alphabet, helps get oneself back under control in moments of anger.
In a sense, bad language is a substitute for bad actions — such as throwing your beer can at the TV screen when the other team scores a touchdown. As someone put it, better sharp words than a sharp dagger.
There are other benefits as well. Here is a line from Britain’s reliably sedate Guardian newspaper: “From the factory floor to the operating theatre, scientists have shown that teams who share a vulgar lexicon tend to work more effectively together, feel closer and be more productive than those who don’t.”
Cursing, done artfully, can also be amusing. For example, Hunter S. Thompson’s book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was a hit, in part, due to his creative and unrestrained use of colourful language. Written in polite and dignified prose, it would have been a bust.
Now, there are situations, of course, where swearing is forbidden. You must not use expletives in church, or in the home of someone you know disapproves. And certainly not when children are present.
But I take issue with the idea that bad language is, in itself, inexcusable. It’s said that stress is the condition that arises when your brain wants to go in a certain direction, and your gut refuses to play along. Bad language is the mechanism we use to relieve the ensuing tension.
Certainly there are folks who would never dream of letting loose with a stream of cuss words. Often, I’ve noticed, they are either almost supernaturally calm individuals, or they were brought up to regard such behaviour as undignified.
There is no answer to that. No one is obliged to swear, and it’s rude to do so in the presence of someone you know will be offended.
But for many of us, and here I plead guilty, the pressures and indignities of everyday life occasionally demand a stronger response than the King’s English encompasses.
