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Virtues
5 min read

The corrosive effect of profuse profanity

The coarsening of speech prompts Yaroslav Walker to remember that what you say influences who you are.
An irate man holds a mobile phone to his ear while gesticulating with his other hand.
Malcolm Tucker makes his point.

“You breathe a word of this to anyone, you mincing f*****g C**T, and I will tear your f*****g skin off, I will wear it to your mother’s birthday party and I will rub your nuts up and down her leg whilst whistling ‘Bohemian-f*****g-Rhapsody’…right!?” 

This is my favourite Malcom Tucker line of all time. This is what Malcom might call, ‘top swearing’. The Thick of It exploded onto our screens in 2005, supposedly lifting the lid on the workings (or absolute lack of) of the twenty-first century British government. The show immortalised the sweary Scot Malcolm Tucker – supposedly partly based on real-life New Labour spin-doctor Alastair Campbell, and played to perfection by Peter Capaldi. The nation watched with a mix of horror and delight, enraptured by the best political comedy since Yes, Minister. However, unlike Yes, Minister, power in The Thick of It is not wielded through the obscurantist language of the elite Oxbridge-educated civil service, but through the terrifyingly unhinged and violent rantings of Tucker’s Svengali spin-doctor.  I can only assume that most people on the outside of government took it all with a pinch of salt – I certainly did. Surely, SURELY, it couldn’t be as bad as ‘that’!? 

Dipping in and out of the coverage of the UK’s COVID public inquiry showed me just how wrong I was. Civil servants and political appointees writing on WhatsApp were indistinguishable from eighteenth century press-ganged sailors in a tavern. The highlight was the testimony of Dominic Cummings, who was confronted with his use of the saltier elements of the English language: “Due in large part to your own WhatsApps, Mr Cummings, we’re going to have to coarsen our language somewhat…” the investigating KC chided. “I apologise”, was the rather phlegmatic response.  

We were then given a tour-de-force of aggressive sweariness – ministers were called ‘useless f**kpigs’, ‘morons’, ‘c**ts’, and it was suggested that in the case of civil servant Helen MacNamara he would ‘handcuff her and escort her’ from Downing Street. Upon being asked whether this language might have contributed to a lack of effectiveness in the Downing Street COVID response, Mr Cummings denied the charge – he was just reflecting the prevailing mood…but of course such language did. 

He is very clear in teaching people that the words that leave their mouths have the power to bless them or damn them. 

We live in a culture where speech, especially public speech, has progressively been coarsened. The television ‘watershed’ excludes less and less offensive speech, performative profanity is now de rigueur for many celebrities and even some politicians, and there has emerged a real generational divide between those of my generation and the baby-boomers. We appear to have forgotten a basic rule that the ancients knew all too well: affect has effect. What you say influences who you are.  

What we say, just as what we do, impacts the sort of person we become and the virtues (or lack of them) that we build up and possess. If we look to Aristotle, we are introduced the concept of habitus. It isn’t just a habit – not just an activity that we engage in on a regular basis – but is a repeated behaviour that builds up our character, for good or for ill. This idea was taken up in some form by Augustine, Averroes, Aquinas, and even people whose name doesn’t begin with the letter A. Our speech, if repeated over and over again, moulds our character. Kind speech, lovely speech, righteous speech – repeated ad nauseum – will have as their end product a kind, a lovely, a righteous person. Violent speech, aggressive speech, coarse speech, will have as their end product a violent, aggressive, and a coarse version of the same. 

Going beyond Aristotelian categories to biblical ones, the use of language is often a favourite theme. The most famous Hebrew example is perhaps the commandment: “Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain…” Our speech is important to God, because it is a basic indicator of how we conduct ourselves – and so an indicator of who we are – and we ought to be conducting ourselves in the light of God’s will and God’s law: “Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.”  

As we move from the Old Covenant to the New, we find St Paul continuing this idea and extending the principle – our words reflect our relationship with God, and so will impact our relationship with other people (who are made in His image). He asks the Colossians that they speak ‘always with grace’, tells the Ephesians to avoid ‘filthiness…foolish talking…jesting’, and commands the Romans to always have a word of blessing ready rather than a curse. The community of holy people, living a life for God and for each other, can easily be destroyed by a cruel slip of the tongue – a fight can break out over even a mild insult. Perhaps this is why Jesus is quite so strict about speech – “But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.” He is very clear in teaching people that the words that leave their mouths have the power to bless them or damn them.  

Perhaps one of its recommendations could be that at the highest levels of national decision making, our leaders and officials always strive to behave with calm and considerate courtesy. 

“Do you think your description of your colleagues, the way in which you described them, their functions, their abilities, their talents, added to that dysfunctionality?” the KC asked Cummings. “No, I think the opposite…” came the slightly bewildered reply. But how could it not? How could speech that has been revealed to be so chaotic, so hostile, so unpleasant, and so callous contribute anything positive to the working environment? More importantly, and I don’t know Mr Cummings and am not making a statement on what his inner character and virtue actually is - how can it contribute anything positive to the person who utters it?  

The COVID inquiry has been set-up to teach us lessons on how to be better prepared to tackle the next pandemic. I pray that it succeeds in this aim. Perhaps one of its recommendations could be that at the highest levels of national decision making, our leaders and officials always strive to behave with calm and considerate courtesy, where speech is used to edify, support, and commend. I believe, and Scripture teaches, that if this is taken on as a vital lesson we will, not only be better prepared to steer the country through the crises of the future, but the entire tenor of our political and public life will be better – holier even. The good news is that it costs nothing to put this recommendation into practice...all it takes to get started is a kind word. 

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Community
Sport
4 min read

What really happens when the Grand National comes to town?

Enjoy those great experiences but remember the neighbours.

Stuart is communications director for the Diocese of Liverpool.

Smartly dressed people crowd a station platform and stairs.
Racegoers arrive at Aintree station.
Merseyrail.

I love watching the periphery of events. Frequently I will be at a gig and find my eye and mind drifting to what is going on at the fringes of the stage. Security distributing water to the thirsty souls of the mosh pit whilst removing the crowd surfer of crushed individual (who invariably rushes back through the stadium to dive back into the fun). You have the semi interested standing at the back trying not to let a good gig interrupt their conversation. You see the road crew retrieving dropped mics, endlessly swapping guitars and nervously following the antics of the lead performers. It is all part of a community drawn together for a couple of hours, from the passionate obsessive to the mildly involved all being sucked into the occasion. 

And for over 30 years I have watched the very fringe of the world famous Grand National event. My wife has taught at a school about half a mile from the famous racecourse so twice daily we pass it by to and from her workplace. I have been to corporate events, our diocese has even held some there, in the stands so have overlooked the course but I have never nor will I ever attend the race meeting. 

But I am fascinated to look in and see the build-up. 

It starts around February as you start to see the white hospitality marquees being erected. You get the big advertising wraps proudly displaying the meeting’s sponsor. Then this week the TV outside broadcast vans turn up, signs directing people to the correct car parks and drop off points appear and the sense of the scale of operations looms large. 

Then there are the signs that someone like me trying to go about the ordinary business of the week don’t want to see. Road closures, no parking zones, diversions all being signposted telling me that this week will be challenging. Gone are the days then I was able to easily move house on Grand National day snaking past the ground while the horses hurtled round the course. 

Travelling in early on race day mornings you see the workforce that comes in to support the enjoyment of the many on race day. A small army of mostly young people dressed in the white and black of waiting staff decamp from the early Merseyrail trains heading to set up in readiness for the day’s punters.  

That’s the bit I mostly miss but it is when the community kicks in. Hordes of people in cars, coaches and trains descend on the area and while most are fine I know from friends living in the area that problems of low level anti-social behaviour affect many local residents when high jinks and too much alcohol spill over to a lack of self-control. And potentially a lack of respect with the notion that my enjoyment trumps anyone else’s rights. 

To be fair I see this type of things coming out of a gig. The moment the house lights go on the crowd that had not minutes before been singing as one voice to the bands biggest hit become engaged in the understandable desire to get home, to get the car out of the car park. As we boisterously leave the venue hyped up by the adrenalin rush you get from a good gig the signs plea to respect the venue’s neighbours is readily dismissed or overlooked. Of course, that sign doesn’t apply to me. 

Behaviour specialists will have no doubt studied the way this works in more detail and there is some research on how crowds behave which I believe informs safety management. This has got to be a benefit for all. And this may have been how things always were but around these events more and more local communities suffer from the impact of thousands suddenly descending and rapidly disappearing. It is similar to the impetus that has led to a backlash against tourists in cities such as Venice and Barcelona. Yes, these events do bring money into the economy, Taylor Swift’s Anfield concerts brought a great amount of revenue for Liverpool. However, a question would have to be how much that benefits the communities that take the brunt. 

The Grand National is big but not unique. And I hope the hundreds of thousands who visit have a tremendous experience but as they do I also hope that they respect the community that they become and the community they land in. 

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