The “F Word”

I think our family is fairly typically divided into two camps regarding the use of the “F word”– some find it a useful device to add colour and precision to private conversation, while others consider it rude and in bad taste in every circumstance. There’s not much middle ground.

In truth, the “F word” is just another old English word which was in common use even before Shakespeare’s time, but somehow it got a bad reputation, probably from the company it kept.

“Bad words” aren’t intrinsically bad, but because of their reputations, you need to be careful in their use. By way of example, consider our French-Canadian brothers and sisters amongst whom the most fearsome cuss words are church-related. Children overheard saying “Wafer! Tabernacle of the chalice!” (in good Canadian French, of course) will have their mouths washed out with soap. In an anglophone household, the parents would just look at each other in puzzlement.

Cussing, in my opinion, has its place, but its place is one of language-consenting adults engaged in conversation. We’re all instinctively aware that there are places and times where one just does not use “bad words”, church and the courtroom being among them. Generally speaking, in public discourse it’s just better and smarter to avoid such language.

Why? Well, first of all you don’t want the equivalent of a judge washing your mouth out with soap! More importantly, just like gowning or wearing a tie, avoiding bad language is tantamount to “dressing for the occasion”. Lacing your discourse with the “F word” would be like showing up for a sales meeting in torn jeans and a dirty tee-shirt.

Notwithstanding the fact that I belong to the more salty-tongued side of the family, I’m appalled by the coarsening of public discourse in Western civilization. Once the province of stand-up comedy clubs and smoky taverns (and perhaps certain family gatherings after one of the parents has gone to bed), cussing has fully entered the public forum. As a result, not only has public discourse become more grubby, but an ancient art form has lost its zing.

I’m off to the West Wing with a bar of soap!