This debate is just retarded

Mr. Garrison: Timmy, did you not do your homework?
Timmy: Timmy!
Stan: Mr. Garrison, haven’t you figured it out? Timmy’s retarded.
Mr. Garrison: Don’t call people names, Stanley!
Stan: But he is!
(From South Park, Episode 4.03 "Timmy 2000")

The much-maligned concept of "political correctness" still holds considerable sway in American discourse despite its checkered history and frequent use as a pejorative, the phrase rarely uttered but through several thick layers of postmodern irony.

The contemporary meaning of the term refers to altering language in order to minimize offense, especially to various identity groups (women, racial minorities, the elderly, the disabled, etc.)

The practice has generally been associated with the political left, while the term itself was coined by the right, who criticized the practice as an attempt to suppress free expression in academic settings, as American universities began adopting controversial gender and ethnic studies programs in the 1990s.

While conservative academics claim the roots of political correctness extend back to Marxism and the communist revolution in China, the contemporary practice is based in cognitive linguistics, which suggest that words have the power to control thoughts and thus direct action.

For example, if we talk about ethnic minorities with words identified as racial slurs, the thinking goes that we will entrench negative stereotypes about these groups and then act upon them in racist ways.

Setting aside the highly polarized debate over the concept (in which both the right and left have dirty hands), it's hard to argue with the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis in general: Words have power and, while it may or may not constitute a deterministic power, the potency of language is a readily observable phenomenon. The problem, of course, is determining which words have exactly what kind of power.

The amusing results range from the spurious (school children forced to sing "Baa-baa rainbow sheep" to promote racial diversity) to the exaggerated (a ban on the word "niggardly" because it sounds too much like "nigger," even though the words bear no resemblance in meaning or etymology) to overemphasizing the exceptionally rare ("herstory" or "womyn" as examples of gender neutral language).

But it's unnecessary to reach for the ridiculous in order to exemplify the fine line between respect and euphemism. For one thing, the social connotations of language evolve over time. "Nigger" gave way to "Negro," then to "colored," then to "black," and now to "African-American," each word considered more forward-thinking and progressively less racist than the one before.

"Crippled" gave way to "handicapped," then "disabled," even though all of these words are considered pejoratives only in retrospect. At the time of their common usage, they were regarded as merely descriptive.

This evolution becomes more problematic when it's spurred by outsiders or controversial individuals. The term "African-American" was coined by Jesse Jackson and received with the same mixed enthusiasm as Jackson himself.

While some blacks embraced the term as an expression of solidarity with the African diaspora, others rejected it because their heritage isn’t African or because their experience has more in common with American blacks (or Americans in general) than with blacks from other parts of the world.

Others simply don’t identify with their African heritage or just don’t care very much what white people call them.

The able-bodied have fallen all over themselves to make disability sound more agreeable. The American Psychological Association coined, first, the euphemism "physically challenged" and, later, "differently abled." Both terms were widely rejected by those with disabilities - most notably Bill Veeck, a baseball franchiser and amputee who titled a chapter of his autobiography, "I'm Not Handicapped, I'm Crippled."

However, the latest front of the political correctness battle involves discarded pejoratives reinvented as slang words, retaining a negative connotation but divorced of their original meaning. "Gay" and "queer," common slang in the 1980s for "socially inept," largely fell out of use when homosexuals reclaimed the words as neutrally descriptive or even signifiers of social identity.

Which brings us to the multi-purpose word "retarded," which literally means "to be slowed or delayed" (e.g. "A heavy rain retarded the spread of the fire").

Medically speaking, the word refers to categories 9 and 10 of the International Statistical Classification of Diseases, "mental retardation," which is diagnosed in those with an impaired cognitive ability and significant limitations in two or more areas of adaptive behavior, observable before the age of 18.

In slang, the word is used to mean "stupid," "unreasonable," or simply "disagreeable" - a popular playground epithet, largely divorced of its literal meanings, similar to "lame" or "crazy" (both of which could be interpreted as slurs, but have largely avoided the controversy of the word "retarded").

All three uses of the word have come under fire from disability rights organizations, most recently when Robert Downey Jr. utters the phrase, "Never go full retard," in the Hollywood-spoof film, Tropic Thunder, referring to the common pop culture wisdom that audiences will sympathize with disabled characters only if their disabilities are minor and portrayed in an unrealistically cuddly manner.

For example, Tom Hanks' portrayal of Forrest Gump, a man with only borderline mental retardation, swept six Academy Awards. Rain Man, in which Dustin Hoffman played a likable autistic savant, took home four Oscars. By contrast, films like What's Eating Gilbert Grape and The Other Sister, in which Leonardo DiCaprio and Juliette Lewis, respectively, give much more realistic portrayals of mental retardation, received less critical acclaim and box office recognition.

The National Down Syndrome Society, the American Association of People with Disabilities, and the Autistic Self Advocacy Network are now protesting all three usages of the word, as well as spin-offs (such as calling someone a "Simple Jack," in reference to Tropic Thunder's controversial character).

The Down Syndrome Association of Los Angeles is attempting to have the word banned as hate speech and the American Association of Mental Retardation changed its name to the American Association on Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities.

In some ways, it's hard to argue with this, even if attempting to ban the literal and medical uses of the word seems a bit extreme. At the very least, using the name of a disability as a slur could be insensitive and desensitizing, reducing compassion for the humanity of those with....well, whatever it's acceptable to call that particular disability now. And therein lies the quandary.

Other politically correct terms have at least remained adequately descriptive. Everyone understands the meaning of "African-American" or "homosexual." Even if the terms themselves are still subject to debate, they aren't so euphemistic as to become confusing.

Whereas the acceptable terms for mental retardation are either so vague as to be meaningless ("developmental disability," "developmentally challenged," or "differently abled"), actually represent the opposite of the condition itself ("special," "exceptional," or "handi-capable"), or are still so touchy, no one's sure if it's ok to say them (the jury is still out on "intellectually handicapped" or "cognitively impaired").

All this hand-wringing about "what they wish to be called" may be more a reflection of mainstream discomfort with disability than true sensitivity, relegating the disabled to a kind of abstraction who should be patronized rather than accommodated into society alongside everybody else. What kind of self-delusion is required to refer to a condition by its antonym and call that sensitivity?

When South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker introduced Timmy, a mentally retarded boy who uses a wheelchair and can speak little more than a garbled repetition of his own name, he sparked controversy even among the show's fan base.

Like most of the adult characters on the show (who are usually portrayed as bumbling and short-sighted), viewers saw Timmy as an offensive stereotype, tastelessly used for a cheap gag. However, a 2005 BBC poll of "The Greatest Disabled TV Characters" was swept by humble Timmy in a landslide.

An analysis of the results was even more interesting. Disabled voters preferred Timmy over able-bodied voters by a margin of more than two-to-one, citing what South Park's foul-mouthed children knew all along: Timmy is funny.

Moreover, he's a fully fleshed-out character, easily understood despite his limitations, and, over the protests of adults who would rather protect him, Timmy is integrated into the playground - including being teased for his differences like all the other children.

Obviously, we don't understand "what they wish to be called" nearly as well as we think we do and an element of condescension belies this quest for compassion.

Surely there's more to sensitivity than just a list of banned words, which tend to become stripped of their context and regarded as possessing an almost voodoo power. Long after the word "nigger" was relegated to the dustbin of racial slurs, the very word itself has taken on a strange aura.

Mark Twain routinely tops the list of banned books for his use of the word, despite its clearly abolitionist context in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Few will even speak or write the word "nigger," opting for the euphemistic "n-word," as if the mere utterance of this 6-letter combination will re-invoke the Ten Plagues of Egypt.

We seem to have forgotten that it's racism which is offensive - not merely the words that describe it. Context matters.

Indeed, an analysis of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis suggests it is context, not individual words, which have the power to transform attitude and worldview. The hypothesis states, in part, "The interdependence of thought and speech makes it clear that languages are not so much a means of expressing truth that has already been established, but are a means of discovering truth that was previously unknown. Their diversity is a diversity not of sounds and signs but of ways of looking at the world."

Imbuing individual words with mystical power undermines the very goal of political correctness, reducing language to the same kind of tokenism that has plagued affirmative action initiatives and succumbing to the temptation of symbolic shortcuts to true justice and social equality. If we need only avoid a list of banned words, we need not give much thought to the ideas we express with the remaining list of permissible ones.

True sensitivity requires flexibility, attention to context, and an awareness of the power dynamics in a social situation. No rational person can accept that any word contains three-dimensional power, but no truly sensitive person can rely solely on the shorthand of linguistic rules as a substitute for truly advancing the position of marginalized people.

"My sister has Down syndrome," Angelique Uhlmann, a Boston physician and disability rights activist told Salon Magazine. "I am most definitely an advocate for her and any developmentally disabled people. That said, I am in no way offended when I hear the word 'retarded'...it's just a word. I don't recall people ever calling her that, even, but I do recall people staring at her, mouths agape. That I find much more offensive than a mere word. Looks can kill, as they say."

Response to reader comments:

I don't think it would be a good idea to drop the references here to the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis since contemporary political correctness revolves around the idea. But the point is well-taken that it should perhaps be elucidated further. I suppose my intended audience for this was other writers, so I summarized Sapir-Whorf in a way that would be meaningful to other writers: Words have power and language, understood in context, shapes our attitudes and behavior. In a nutshell, that is the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis.

I fully support the intent behind political correctness, but I also see pitfalls in its application. What are we doing to the language when some words are considered, literally, unspeakable, regardless of their context?

And because I support the intent of political correctness to foster sensitivity, I'm leery of developing linguistic shortcuts that give us a false sense of security. Something is very wrong when we've forgotten that racism is the problem - not the words that describe it. I find the expectation that disabled people must always be "heartwarming" (a la Forrest Gump) much more offensive than a film like Tropic Thunder, which was satirizing that very phenomenon.

I don't consider it a good argument that the word "retarded" might be ok because the mentally retarded wouldn't be aware of it. For one thing, that's not true. Mental retardation is on a spectrum and people with milder cases of it are perfectly capable of understanding language and knowing when they're being mocked.

Besides, is it ok for me to use racial slurs in the company of white bigots just because I can't be overheard by the target? Please don't conflate use of the word "retarded" as a slur versus the use of it as slang. I am in no way suggesting that it's acceptable to call people names.

What I am saying is that's it's entirely possible to call people names while avoiding a list of banned words - to wit, the euphemism "urban youth," which has replaced "nigger." This is not only acceptable, it's used on the nightly news all the time to perpetuate the idea that most crime is committed by young black men.

But that's not racist because we're avoiding a bad word? Part of what I'm objecting to here is the false sense of security engendered by a list of banned words.

It really does say something positive about American culture that we place at least some value on including marginalized people and at least trying to give offense, if not actually look at cultural institutions such as language and how they shape our perceptions.

But I'd argue that a great deal of that is nothing more than lipservice. When blacks point out real-world discrimination, they're shouted down; affirmative action is widely unpopular; and, a few years ago, Toby Keith made oodles of money off a song that advocates a return to lynching.

So it seems we care more about the appearance of looking pluralistic more than actually being pluralistic. Banned words are just a shortcut to this end.

For the sake of clarity, I do think the public response to Timmy is relevant here because it betrays the same kind of mentality. Viewers were appalled by Timmy because he flies in the face of the acceptable portrayal of disability. Yet he's popular precisely because of that. He breaks the mold of the warm, fuzzy, heartwarming Forrest Gumps and Rain Mans. As a character, Timmy's just like all the rest of the kids. The fact that viewers saw that as insulting speaks volumes about the way we patronize disabled people and call that sensitivity.

The First Amendment doesn't really enter into this because its free speech provision only applies to government censorship, for which there are very few exceptions (e.g. incitement to riot).

What's at issue here is informal or social censorship (for which examples abound). Basically, should the word "retarded" become as horrifying to people as the word "nigger"? Judging from some of the responses to this so far, we're well on our way there already.

Readers have so far tended to get hung up on the use of these words as slurs directed at the groups political correctness is supposed to protect, but that wasn't really my primary goal here. It's fairly obvious to me that insulting people is rude whether you use a banned word or not and it's entirely possible to insult people without using a banned word.

So my conversations with people about this essay have tended to revolve around the question: Is it ok to call mental retardation "mental retardation" or is that insensitive?

When, really, the question I most wanted to pose here is: How can any word have a singular connotation when divorced of the context in which it's used? The Constitution doesn't help us with that question.

The "Baa-baa rainbow sheep" story is apocryphal. The legend has circulated whenever race -- affirmative action, in particular -- is in the news, but no one's been able to confirm any instance of schoolchildren being forced to sing this in some attempt to brainwash them into political correctness.

There's a new twist to this battle of the words though. Now it's "midget."

From what I've read, the activism ranges from fairly reasonable attempts at public education about disabilities that cause dwafism to completely ridiculous suggestions that Santa's elves, Snow White's friends, and the word "midget" are all now offensive (regardless of context, of course).

Oddly, "dwarf" is still ok because it's the name of a medical condition -- an exemption not granted for the word "retarded," which is also the medical name of the condition.

One guy was being interviewed about this subject and the reporter (all puffed up on self-righteous "sensitivity") asked him, "What would you like to be called?"

The guy responded with his name.

I always find a little ironic when I receive a review of this from somebody who clearly understood the main point (varying interpretations notwithstanding), yet they never make the connection to WDC's own content rating system, which functions on the same premise that words have power independent of their context.

I maintain that this article doesn't require sourcing. It's an editorial; not a news story or an academic paper. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is encyclopedic. That's like asking me to source evolution or the US Constitution. There's no debate over what the hypothesis states (which I quoted), only how it should be interpreted. Most of the interpretations are linguistic and would be entirely tangential to my point.

Given the extreme racial segregation in the US, it's quite easy to find non-whites who don't care much about the ever-changing list of terms white people come up with or even find all the hand-wringing about it amusing. Granted, "African-American" was coined by Jesse Jackson, but he's a controversial figure and plenty of blacks don't embrace the term. Jamaicans, in particular, will often correct people who use it to describe them because their heritage is not African.