Let us suppose, for the moment, that my reader is a Wigomumbiscopian. And let us further posit the existence of a country—it does not matter where, really—named Wigomumbiscop.
The suffix “mumbiscop” translates to “land” from the Wigomumbish language, so in English it is usually shortened to “Wigoland.” Indeed, in Wigoland itself the language is called “Wigomumbiscopapliditrabluni,” i.e. “the language of the free elders of the land of Wigo,” and the natives call themselves various names, depending on rank, gender, family relationship, the religious season and the time of day. But among themselves, and when speaking English (which many of them do, and with a most charming accent), they call each other “Wigos.”
Thanks to globalization, “international” English words and concepts invaded Wigomumbiscop long ago, to the degree that even the more refined speakers of Wigomumbiscopapliditrabluni are apt to insert such words as “Wigo” and “Wigoland” into their conversations while exchanging pleasantries in the bazaar. But as anyone who has travelled to Bifstokalpassan (the capital of Wigomumbiscop) will aver, the inhabitants are droll, paradoxical, very lively and likely to be insinuating all sorts of impenetrable things when appropriating English words. The elementary student of contemporary Wigomumbiscopapliditrabluni would be unwise to assume he is following a conversation from passing insertions of English vocabulary!
But I digress.
The issue soon became not whether the inhabitants of Wigomumbiscop should be free to refer to each other as “Wigos,” but whether foreigners were wise to do so.
The practice began decades ago, about the time Wigomumbiscop became independent (it was carved out of a section of the British Empire), and at first was considered only mildly amusing and hardly bigoted. With time, however, and with globalization—which involved the spread of such Western concepts as “political correctness”—increasing umbrage was taken. This was especially the case among the emigrants of Wigomumbiscop. Call a man a “Wigo” in, say, Canada, when in fact he was one, and he might very well have hauled you before one of our once-flourishing “human rights” commissions.
The problem is only superficially linguistic. Literacy has been a mixed blessing (as I have argued from time to time) and, on the downside, note the encouragement it gives, by making words more tangible, to the habit of confusing words with things. The rapid growth of euphemism is itself a product of globalization, or more precisely, of the mass literacy campaigns that have had an especially telling effect on the urban populations of the Third World, to say nothing of here.
“Euphemism,” literally “fair of speech,” is a rhetorical figure, “consisting in the substitution of a favourable for a more accurate but offensive expression” (Oxford). It is possible that a motive to social graciousness lies partially behind it. But more deeply, it betrays the belief that by changing the word, one somehow changes the thing to which it refers. Public policy in this regard is directed by this semi-literate, superstitious, leftwing belief—and taboos are placed on various expressions by our mutually appointed “human rights” thought police.
The case of the Wigomumbiscopians has a happy ending. I was of course referring to events in the past. A generation ago, “Wigo” had become almost a term of deprecation, but when the clever and industrious inhabitants of Wigomumbiscop stopped whining and got to work, and set about the transformation of their country, we soon had what we now call “the Wigo miracle.” Call a man a “Wigo” today, and he will smile from pride in his country’s accomplishments.
I was going to write today about the journalistic scum on the British tabloid News of the World, which obtained a private video of Prince Henry of Wales, from when he was soldiering in Afghanistan some years ago, and publicized it—thus creating as much embarrassment, ill-feeling and potential violence as was in their power, while sabotaging a war effort. Also, about the journalistic scum, internationally, who called attention to the video and copied it.
Prince Harry was causing no offence whatever among his comrades in the field, by his affectionate use of racial and personal epithets; or by his little telephone skit, in which he mocked his grandmother (our Queen) for her corgis. He was instead breaking through the pomposity of which the media might otherwise be accusing him. He was a soldier among soldiers, speaking the language of soldiers—with which, alas, most in the media are utterly unfamiliar.
But I see, by reading so many comments on the innumerable websites where these “revelations” about Prince Harry have been posted, that any comment from me would be unnecessary. The great majority of readers seem already to grasp that Prince Harry is not a blackguard. Whereas, the journalists are blackguards, and their moral posturing makes it so much uglier.
On the other hand, there has been much public whining from the usual beneficiaries of the euphemism industry. These people should be ignored, or if they persist, told to get a life.
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