This linguistic engineering invades our lives and
loves
Officialdom’s
frenetic replacement of words like son and wife with words like ‘carer’ and
‘partner’ diminishes our identities.
by Frank Furedi
I have always
been fascinated by the language we use to express our view of everyday life.
But it wasn’t until the death of my mother three years ago that I realised how
words could be used to diminish our identity and pressure us to adopt new
values.
As soon as I heard that my mother had a
stroke, I went to see her at our local hospital in Kent, England. On arrival, I
introduced myself to the nurse with the words, ‘I’m Frank Furedi, I’m Clara’s
son’. The woman looked up at me and said, ‘You mean you’re her carer’. ‘No, her
son’, I responded. But she was insistent: ‘No, you are her carer.’
Later, one hospital administrator
explained to me that they used the word carer because it included all;
apparently not every patient has a close relative to look after them.
In Australia, the Department of Health and
Ageing defines everyone who provides help to an ill or frail person as a carer.
On its website it notes that ‘many carers
don’t consider themselves to be carers - they see themselves as just family
members’. Outwardly, this is a simple and uncontroversial statement of fact.
But when you examine it closer, it offers a chilling reminder of who defines
your identity. You may think you are family but, according to this
administrative formula, you are ‘carers’.
The word carer may be inclusive, but if a
special connection between mother and son is transformed into a bureaucratic
typology, then something very important has been lost. The relationship between
patients and their family, friends and paid help all involve care, but they
convey fundamentally different meanings to the people concerned.