By Caroline M. Cole

Last week it was Rebecca Ann Sedwick, age 12, but there have been others: Erin Gallagher, 13. Bart Palosz, 15. Katie Webb, 12. Amanda Cummings, 15. Ryan Patrick Halligan, 13. Audrie Pott, 15. Phoebe Prince, 15. Tyler Clementi, 18. Jessica Logan, 18. Josh Pacheco, 17. Alexis Pilkington, 17. Brandon Bitner, 14. Gabriella Molina, 12. Lennon Baldwin, 15. Rehtaeh Parsons, 17. Jessica Laney, 16. Michael Joseph Berry, 17. Sarah Lynn Butler, 12. Kenneth Weishuhn Jr., 14. Rachel Neblett, 17. Magan Meirer, 13. The most familiar cases may focus on children and teens, but age doesn’t matter, as evident in the circumstances of Kevin Morrissey, 52; Jennifer Lynn-Marie Lenihan, 39; Marlene Braun, 46; Carl Dessureault, 44; Margaret Gettins, 50; and Annette Prada, 50. And for all of the stories we read or hear about, there are countless others: stories of individuals who were apparently driven to suicide because they were harassed, taunted, threatened, maligned, or otherwise bullied in person and in online forums.

In the fifth century bce, the Greek playwright Euripides wrote, “the tongue is mightier than the blade,” a message that still rings true today when we consider the ways people call each other names; tease, taunt, mock, belittle, or insult others; make jokes at someone else’s expense; share intimate details or personal information in order to embarrass others, damage reputations, or sabotage relationships; make up information or spread rumors that present others in unflattering ways; criticize, degrade, or otherwise shame others in public; transmit aggressive, intimidating, or hateful messages; threaten someone; and, increasingly urge people to kill themselves. And while the internet, in general, and social media, in particular, have magnified the reach and speed of these comments and behaviors, harassment has been around for some time.

In his Scientific American article “The Origins of Bullying,” Hogan Sherrow writes that bullying “is part of the human condition” with “origins deep in our evolutionary history.” Moreover, he observes, bullying is not unique to humans; it is evident in every major primate group, providing individual members or cohorts within that group a means to encourage conformity (even if it is through coercion), as well as survival and reproduction advantages. As such, bullying behaviors in primate species can be severe but, Sherrow contends, there’s a critical difference between the bullying practices of primates and humans: humans can intensify the impact of their bullying through the use language.

Noting that humans have combined language’s ability to communicate abstraction with “a phenomenal social memory that allows us to remember scores of individuals and their attributes,” Sherrow argues that humans are able to taunt, humiliate, spread rumors about, or otherwise “inflict harm…without putting themselves at risk, physically.” Online bullying, he adds, extends this behavior by giving individuals opportunity to “distance themselves from potential conflict and risk that provides them with a platform to be cruel,” and the results are devastating.

Studies show that children and adults who are verbally harassed show signs of sickness, loneliness, depression, anxiety, and stress. Under the weight of pervasive malicious comments, they begin to isolate themselves, avoid opportunities, withdraw from others, and engage in increasingly risky behaviors. And as the emotional, psychological, and economical impact of such hostility grows, people shrink from their potential, play small, stop showing up, and even quit—activities, projects, school, jobs and, at times, life itself.

Such results remind us of the power of communication, for whatever the forum, whatever the message, whomever the participants, our language can damage or heal; cut down or lift up; humiliate or encourage; condemn or redirect; distance or embrace.

Anti-bullying campaigns, task forces, workgroups, policies, laws, and other defensive strategies continue to emerge in an ongoing effort to stop the spread of bullying. Yet in addition to these efforts, we all have the opportunity to engage in an offensive strategy that requires no campaign materials, no website, no meetings or bureaucracy, and no fundraising. It is a commitment to using language in general and our words in particular to promote the significance of others, no matter who they are.

As noted in an earlier post, the word communication represents the process of joining with and connecting to others. It is, at its core, an affinity with, respect for, and commitment to the well-being and enrichment of the other person, and it is with this understanding that we can and should commit to using our language.

We may not be or act like the bullies depicted in the stories we read. We might even be the ones who intervene when we encounter such individuals harassing others. Even so, we can make a conscientious effort to increase the quality of every interaction we have, perhaps mitigating the language people are hearing in other forums.

An 1898 Christmas edition of The British Weekly includes a message by Ian Maclaren that reads, “Be pitiful, for every man is fighting a hard battle.” If we were to approach life with Maclaren’s premise that everyone is struggling in ways we may not see or cannot know, we might actively seek opportunities to use our language in ways that recognize, encourage, respect, console, support, elevate, inspire, and align ourselves others.

Consider, for example, Antoinette Tuff. On August 20, 2013, Michael Brandon Hill entered McNair Discovery Learning Academy in Decatur, Georgia, armed with an AK-47 assault rifle and other weapons. Having fired shots at the police officers outside the school several time, Hill was loading up with ammunition when Tuff, the school’s bookkeeper, began talking with him.

In a post-event interview with ABC News, Tuff says she tried to keep Hill calm by asking his name but, when he didn’t answer, she began sharing her life. Telling him about the pain and tragedies she had faced—including a 33-year marriage that fell apart and the “roller coaster” of opening a business—Tuff told Hill that we all have situations in our lives and if she could recover, so could he. After an hour of talking, Tuff got Hill, a person who was “willing to die,” to put down his weapons, empty his pockets and backpack, lay on the floor, and surrender to police without anyone being hurt.

Tuff did not solve Hill’s problems during that exchange, but she has shown that Euripides’ observation that “the tongue is mightier than the blade” does not have to end in ruin. The power of words can also be for good.

Unbeknownst to us, our words may be a voice at a critical juncture in someone’s existence, and the connection we make can be, literally, the difference between death and life. Our conversations might not remove the obstacles people face, and our exchanges may last only a moment. But we can commit to ensuring that all of our words work to offer friendship when someone is alone, recognize pain when someone is hurting, bestow respect when someone feels disregarded, give encouragement when someone is demoralized, provide comfort or compassion when someone is suffering, or validate an existence when someone feels no place in this world.

Buddha is credited with saying that “words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world.” May we contribute to that change by using the power of words to recognize and reflect the value of others.

Working toward Areté…
In the space below, share your ideas on how to use the power of words for good.