For many years I’ve been quite interested in various facets of language. I enjoy etymology as well as the study of foreign languages. One aspect of language that I find particularly interesting is how it can reveal the ways in which we think. It’s curious to ponder whether language shapes our thinking or whether or thinking shapes language. I would tend to think it’s a little of both.
Years ago I was interested in understanding the word “thanks”. I found this small investigation to be fascinating. The word “thank” stemmed from the word “think”, and eventually the meaning became more specific where “to thank” meant “to think good thoughts”. We use the word “thanks” often interchangeably with the word “gratitude”. The word “gratitude” has the same root as the word “grace”, which is particularly evident when you consider the Spanish word “gracias”, which is generally translated as “thanks”. The word “gratitude” also shares the same root as “gratis”, which can mean “free”. Although today we often don’t think of “grace”, “thanks”, “free”, and “good thought” as being synonymous, we can see through etymology that they are, if not synonymous, at least very closely related concepts. To be thankful is to be free. To have good thoughts is to live in grace. I’m not claiming these are truisms. I’m just saying that our language reveals that this is how we think. I found this exploration to be very interesting, and it fueled my continuing interest in language and how it relates to our thinking and our worldview.
As I mentioned, I have an interest not only in etymology, but also in foreign languages. I have studied Spanish on and off since junior high school. I studied Japanese in high school and college. I even took a semester of Hebrew and a semester of French. I’ve learned a bit of Sanskrit through my interest in yoga and Ayurveda. And among the many things I find interesting about foreign languages is that in order to really be fluent in a different language you must think differently. Translations are never true to the original. If they were then they wouldn’t make sense in the translated language. A translation is just an approximation. The translation doesn’t just translate words. It translates thinking and culture. In English we say “I am 30.” In Spanish it would be correct to say “Tengo 30 años.” Literally the Spanish version translates as “I have 30 years.” It’s a different way of thinking about age. Spanish has two different verbs that are both translated into English as “to be”. That means that Spanish speakers subtly differentiate between states of being in ways that English speakers may never be able to do simply because of the language. In Japanese there are two entirely different forms of the language, one is honorific and should be used when speaking to someone seen as a superior (a parent, a boss, a teacher, etc.) or in formal situations. The other, informal form of the Japanese language is used only when talking with friends and family. Of course I’m over-simplifying and probably misrepresenting the case with the Japanese language. Why? Because I don’t understand it. I studied Japanese for years. But I never learned to think like a Japanese person. Speaking Japanese requires more than just an understanding of grammar and vocabulary. It requires a different way of thinking. It requires seeing the world differently.
Why am I talking about language? Usually I write about topics related to how we’re collectively destroying the environment or how our culture is inherently oppressive. Writing about language and thinking seems far too…well, far too happy compared to what I normally write about. Sadly, you just haven’t given me the opportunity yet to get to my point. There is plenty of doom and gloom ahead. Don’t worry. Everything I’ve just written was merely a preface to the doom and gloom. I had to provide context for the doom and gloom.
I think that by looking at how we use language can tell us a lot about how we think about ourselves, our environment, etc. And recently I’ve been thinking about this and observing our use of language in this regard. Ready yourself. The doom and gloom is about to start. I think our use of language reveals the ways in which we distance ourselves from the real and live largely in abstraction. I think this way of thinking and talking allows us to continue to do terrible things simply because it’s all abstract, it’s all just happening “out there”. But the problem is that even though we think in isolationist terms, even though we think we can wall ourselves off and be safe, there is no isolation and there is no “out there” in reality. It’s all right here. It’s all us. We are only harming ourselves when we harm the other.
Several years ago I was working at an “interactive agency” in a software engineer role. However, I was also tasked with starting and managing a branch office. I was in Boston at the time. The company was headquartered in Los Angeles and had a handful of other offices, the most significant of which was in New York. We were a small office. At our maximum size we only had 12 people. But we didn’t work in isolation. We would collaborate on projects with teams from other offices. Therefore, I had lots of phone meetings with the managers from the other offices. A lot of these meetings were called “resourcing” meetings. During these meetings the managers would talk about which people should work on which projects. Only we substituted the work “resource” for “person”. You see, people at an interactive agency aren’t people. They are resources. And while we might be uncomfortable exploiting other people, we’re apparently less squeamish about exploiting resources.
This issue was really the crux of my problems with the company. I was originally hired with a mandate to build a new office where we did good work. My philosophy is that in order to do good work you get great people who love what they do and you treat them well and provide them with the conditions they need in order to do their best work. I typically find that balance is really important. I don’t believe in 50 and 60 hour work weeks, which is the new standard in lots of industries these days. Hell, I don’t even believe in the 40 hour work week or even a 20 hour work week. I don’t believe in employers. But setting that aside for a minute, my point is that I definitely don’t believe in pushing people to work an unsustainable number of hours. I would always tell people to go home at 5. I would push people out the door. I don’t care what anyone else says. The project would still be there tomorrow. And you’ll be better rested and happier if you go home now. And I definitely don’t believe in working weekends. (I want to be clear that I’m talking specifically about the context of working for an employer. I have no qualms about anyone working however many hours they want for their own projects.)
In my opinion my philosophy has proven to work. The office I managed far and away did the best work of any of the company’s offices. And everyone knew it. We were handed the most difficult and challenging projects because everyone knew we could do the work. And despite the fact that no one worked more than 40 hours a week our team was timely.
But here’s the problem. The people in my office weren’t people. Not to New York. Not to L.A. They were resources. And resources are to be used. I had so many fights and arguments with managers from other offices who insisted that people on my team needed to “take one for the team” and work the weekend or pull a 12 hour day. I was baffled. The people on my team did great work. They got their work done on time. There was no reason for them to work more hours, to be out of balance, to jeopardize their health or marriages or whatever the case may be. The problem was that the managers in other offices spoke a different language than I did. And I never learned to think in their language. Resources don’t have health or marriages or hobbies. Resources don’t need balance. Resources are just objects. But to me they were people, not resources. This was the fundamental conflict…a conflict of language and perspective. We never did learn to speak the same language. I put my foot down over and over. To me I was protecting people. To the other managers I was preventing them from having control over their resources. This is what war is all about.
I’ve also noticed a trend over the years in how mainstream culture apparently thinks of people. I rarely listen to NPR anymore for a variety of reasons. However, when I did listen often and when I occasionally listen now I notice how more often than not the word “consumer” is substituted for the word “person”. I notice this word substitution from politicians, commentators, analysts, and pretty much every sort of person I hear on the radio. I suppose that in a sense it is not entirely inaccurate to describe a person as a consumer. In a very real sense all people are consuming all the time. Air. Water. But that’s not how the term is used. When someone on the radio refers to a person as a consumer they are subtly reinforcing the idea that the purpose of a person in our society is to buy and then create waste. And here’s the thing. In a world of consumers the rules are different. If you have a world of people then you probably want to have a world of happy people. You probably want to consider the needs of those people, and you want to respect balance. For example, you probably wouldn’t want to manipulate your neighbor into buying something he or she doesn’t need entirely under false pretenses with false guarantees and false descriptions and false promises. You probably wouldn’t want to sell your neighbor a piece of junk that is designed to stop working within months. But in a world of consumers these are merely descriptions of standard operating procedure. We’ve all had these experiences. We’ve all been manipulated into buying crap. It’s all crap. The plans and warranties and all that is never what you were told it would be. Nothing is actually covered under warranty. It was all a ploy in the name of profits. And it’s all allowable because you’re a consumer, not a person.
It seems to me, though, that this sort of curious and isolating use of language isn’t found just in how we talk about people. Consider the fact that a cow or pig isn’t a cow or pig when we’re talking about a cow or pig that was raised just to be killed. They aren’t even animals. They are livestock. Calling an animal livestock at least has the decency to indicate that what the word refers to is, in fact, alive (livestock.) But all the same, this sort of use of language allows us an emotional buffer from the perhaps difficult and uncomfortable reality, which is that we’re talking about a cow or a pig or a sheep or some other sentient animal who is treated as a possession.
As terrible as the cases I’ve already mentioned might be, I think perhaps one of the most terrible is the substitution of the word “resource” in place of “tree” or “river” or “mineral deposit” or any of the many other things we commonly refer to as resources. What I think is most terrible about this case is that it is so embedded into our culture that hardly anyone questions referring to a forest as a resource. It is this sort of thinking that causes conservation agencies to make statements like this. “Wildlife is one of America’s most treasured natural resources.” But wildlife isn’t a resource. Forests aren’t resources. Rivers aren’t resources. Oceans aren’t resources. According to Webster’s dictionary a resource is “a source of supply or support, an available means, a natural source of wealth or revenue, a natural feature or phenomenon that enhances the quality of human life, computable wealth, a source of information or expertise.” These definitions of resource all imply that a resource is something with value based on it’s usefulness to humans. But a tree is valuable simply for being a tree. It isn’t valuable because I can cut it down and turn it into lumber or paper. It’s not even valuable because I can lean against it or because I can climb it or because it’s nice to look at. A tree’s value is not measured against my wants or ideas. A tree has intrinsic value. It is not a resource. No plant, animal, mineral, waterway, or anything else is a resource. That’s the truth. But sadly that’s not how we think.
And what is the result of our use of language in the case of substituting the word “resource” for “tree” or “river”? You tell me. It seems pretty obvious. We’ve cut down most of the trees. We’ve polluted and dammed (or should I say damned?) most of the rivers. And when these topics are debated frequently the debate is ended when someone points out that our society demands certain things (gasoline, electricity, paper, plastic, etc.) and while we can work toward greater conservation and efficiency we as a society simply have to accept that we’ll need to use “our resources”. But why is that true? As long as we view things as resources then I suppose it seems true. But when a bear is a bear and not “wildlife, which is one of our most treasured natural resources” are we as willing to destroy that bear’s habitat just to eek out a few more years of energy to power our way of life? For that matter, if oil is seen as oil, as part of the earth, as something that belongs where it is, then are we going to extract it from the earth in the first place? Oil isn’t a resource. Bears aren’t resources. And I’m saddened that we all can’t just see that.