The Misconception of Political Correctness

“The Republican Party’s typical position is to preemptively surrender whenever liberals start yelling, ‘Oh that’s mean. You can’t use that word.’ ‘Oh, I did not realize that the New York Times made a finding that the term... is offensive. Henceforth I shall not use it.’ Well... now Americans are finding out... the policies of these speech Nazis.”

Nothing like a grossly offensive quote by Ann Coulter to get you hot and bothered.

I’m not writing this article to discuss Ann Coulter, “anchor babies” (about which she was speaking), or specifics about the back and forth between liberal and conservative ideologies, though. We’ll set those aside as bloodbaths for another time.

Hard at the forefront of the American mind, the card pulled at the drop of any accusation of insensitivity, the supposed totalitarian weapon of you-can’t-say-that, this article is about the concept of political correctness. God’s second great flood.

Whether or not the term itself was on people’s tongues, society growing more “politically correct” has provided the cornerstone of America’s sociopolitical progressivism for literally ever. It’s the idea that words carry the weight of change, that sentiments of individuals build into those of the masses—that your thoughts and actions have a direct influence on your world.

As of late, particularly in light of the campaign of a certain presidential candidate who will remain unnamed but who looks like a sad tangerine wearing a cornhusk bonnet, political correctness has come under fire as a means of censorship, sugar coating, and silencing. Those who speak out against this accusation are labeled as the hypersensitive, unable to talk the hard talk for fear of offending someone. For some reason, knowing how to talk about certain delicate issues without being a runaway bulldozer about it is seen as a sign of weakness.

Let’s unpack this for a minute.

Here’s the thing about political incorrectness for those on the side of the shriveled real estate camel growing a failed chia pet out of his skull: There will always be a reason that, for example, calling a black person “colored,” even jokingly, warrants a broken nose and calling me a “fruitcake” warrants me lathering you in a thick layer of honey and dropping you into a bee orgy. Why? Because the immediate message of such “meanness” (to use Coulter’s word) is that you don’t in the least respect the person about whom you’re speaking. That the negative connotations and historical associations of the labels you slap onto their foreheads somehow don’t send them back fifty years to a time when they were afraid to exist. That you are an enormous, counterproductive, armadillo dropping.

Let’s deal some facts: The accusation of hypersensitivity will only ever hold merit insofar as it polices the ability to discuss difficult but necessary topics for fear of causing offense. When sensitivity turns to instability and cowardice, a step in the tougher direction is warranted. But in general, such an accusation is a smothering blanket for those who know how to attach kindness and understanding to discussions of the most difficult sociopolitical issues. Overbearing political correctness will always be the card pulled when people’s ignorance overrides their ability to step on fragile ice without plunging their foot right through it.

Because here’s the rub: The concoction of the term “political correctness” is nothing more or less than the politicization of basic human respect and decency for the purpose of rendering both negotiable controversies. It’s a strategic tool, and as a term for that which should be a natural and inarguable part of the human experience, it is, ultimately, a complete and utter myth.

Yes, black people used to be called “colored.” Yes, queer people used to be referred to as “fruitcakes” (in fact, we used to be derogatorily referred to as “queers” until we reclaimed the term as our own). In a time when these minority groups were marginalized to an unlivable extent, there was far more that people were ignorant about than there is today. But as we have come to know better, so too must we come to be better. By denying the need to speak carefully and respectfully in this regard and instead politicizing it and labeling it a hindrance, you refuse to be better.

The paradox, of course, is that registering a hypersensitive complaint with the office of wow-why-would-you-say-something-like-that leaves you wide open for the exact kind of return argument that I’m refuting: being told not to be so offended by something offensive. But that’s an asinine, inescapable loop, and we have to fight back in spite of it. We have to stay unyieldingly, unapologetically hot and bothered. We mustn’t let people take away the most fundamental tools of expressing respect for someone, nor must we allow them to use our defense of those tools against us in an accusation of overbearing political correctness. Those people simply refuse to be better, and that will never be the right answer.

Kyle R. Whelihan ’17, is a psychology concentrator living in Mather House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.