How Language Preserves Oppression
In this post, Emilia Wilson (Cardiff University) discusses her article recently published in the Journal of Applied Philosophy Ameliorating Linguistic Anchors of Oppression on how specific words and phrases may anchor oppressive social practices.
Language shapes how we see the world. Politicians speak of ‘enhanced interrogation’ rather than ‘torture’, we speak of ‘wars’ on cancer and racism, proposals for social care reform are labelled ‘dementia tax’ to undermine them. These word choices trigger particular perspectives; they shape what we notice and pay attention to, the judgements we draw, and whether we respond positively or negatively. These are examples of framing effects: the way information is presented shapes how we respond to it.
In a recent paper, I explore how the framing effects of words and phrases – ‘lexical frames’ – can function to maintain oppressive social practices. I propose that these lexical frames can regulate our behaviour in ways that come to preserve oppression and can even undermine our attempts to talk about injustice.
Linguistic Anchors
To understand how lexical frames can come to preserve social practices, consider the case of ‘desire lines’ (also called ‘cow paths’), tracks that become worn into grass by footfall over time. These lines emerge from individual habits as people take shortcuts away from official, paved paths and wear away visible routes. As these pathways become visible, more people begin to follow the route, which in turn makes the path more established. In this example, the physical environment is anchoring our shared habits. The worn-away path emerges from a habit – following the shortcut – and then maintains that same habit, creating a stabilizing feedback loop. Language can operate in the same way.
Words can become associated with particular perspectives through use, which creates habits of attention and emotional responses. Akin to the feedback loops that create desire lines, which anchor people’s movement through space, these lexical frames linguistically anchor collective attitudes and social habits.
Anchoring Oppression
These desire lines can anchor all sorts of collective habits – including oppressive norms. Philosophers Shen-yi Liao and Bryce Huebner analyse the example of ‘Shirley cards’, which were, historically, images of white women against a coloured background used to calibrate the development of film photographs. The use of white women reflected the attitude that white skin was ‘normal’ and resulted in the failure of analogue film stocks to properly capture dark-skinned subjects. Here we see how an oppressive attitude, that whiteness is the default, has embedded itself into technology in way that preserves inequality. These Shirley cards anchored oppression. They are not only a product of racist norms but operate to maintain them.
Language can operate in much the same way. In the Shirley Card example, the film stock had become imbued with racist assumptions. Words can become imbued with values and norms when it is consistently associated with them over time.
Naming Injustice
Just as analogue film can be miscalibrated, lexical frames can distort the world. In some cases, these distortions can anchor oppressive practices. One upshot is that resisting injustice requires finding the right language. We can’t call out injustice we can’t name. But we also can’t tackle injustice if we’re using a lexical frame that anchors the same oppression we’re trying to resist.
Linguist George Lakoff suggests this happens in political debates about tax policy. Those in favour of reduced taxes term their plans “tax relief”; in doing so, tax is framed as an affliction and, therefore, any reductions are a welcome respite. Next their opponents in favour of progressive taxation want to reject these plans. But, Lakoff points out, if they do this by proclaiming their opposition to “tax relief” then they’ve already lost the language game. The lexical framing of tax as an affliction is already embedded into the proposals, even if the proposals favour increased taxation. Likewise, speaking about the fatal effects of reducing “welfare” might backfire, because the word itself cues a racist and classist perspective on which welfare are lazy and undeserving of help.
Emotional Labour
Sometimes, we need to talk about cases of injustice that have been erased. In such cases, we might need new language. However, if our existing language is imbued with ideology, we risk projecting old distortions baked into these new labels.
I suggest in the paper that this has occurred in the case of “emotional labour”. The term was coined by sociologist Arlie Hochschild to describe the demands of regulating emotions at work – such as the artificial friendliness of airline stewards or the performative hostility of debt collectors. Over time, however, the term has become a catchall for feminised domestic labour, especially the invisible mental aspects such as remembering dates and managing tasks [Hartley].
On one hand, naming this category of activity makes sense: the invisibility of this work contributes to preserving the gender inequity in who performs it. However, the term “emotional labour” itself is counterproductive because (unlike terms such as ‘mental load’) the frame itself is imbued with sexist values. The term “emotional” is deeply entwined with sexist prejudice. Calling household management ‘emotional labour’ reflects and reproduces the sexist perspective that erases this labour in the first place.
This is like trying to address the whiteness of fashion magazines by photographing a more racially diverse range of subjects while still using film calibrated for white skin. The new targets become reconciled with the old ideological distortions. If we’re going to tackle injustice, we need language that illuminates, not distorts.
Emilia Wilson is a lecturer in Philosophy at Cardiff University. Her current research explores the relationship between representational resources (like language, stereotypes, theories, etc) and social practice.
