Cultural Evolution

Sensitivity Alert: The following story contains a fictitious discussion about several swear words but the words themselves are not used in a crude or abusive way.

Cultural Evolution

When the whistle blew for quitting time, John and I had just finished leveling the last electrical panel and bolting it to the wall. A good stopping-point. Tomorrow we could start running cable-tray and conduit.

We grabbed lunchboxes, punched time-cards, and walked out to my pickup. With normal bumper-to-bumper traffic, we would have a 90-minute commute from the Intel plant back to our families in south Salem. It was my turn to drive, and John’s turn to read the piece he was working on for the Portland Writer's Mill, our local writers’ group.

As I headed toward Highway 217, John reached under the seat, pulled out his laptop, and started scrolling. “Ok, here it is,” he said, settling back in his seat.

“I’ve been working on this one for quite a while, but I’m kinda stuck and not sure where to go from here. Alright, I’ll just read it...

“‘Roses are red, violets are blue ...’ So, whaddya think I should say next, Vern?” I could hear the grin in his voice. He was doing his Ernest P. Worrell impersonation again.

When I only rolled my eyes and shook my head, he scoffed and dropped the Ernest character. “Truth is, I’m feeling a little disturbed about something,” he said in a tone of thoughtful intensity.

John and I had been buddies since grade school, and I knew he was rarely disturbed by anything more serious than warm beer. I doubted he was in any real distress and I was trying to merge onto the freeway so I decided to let him talk. “Disturbed about what?” I asked, watching my left mirror for somebody to let me squeeze into the lane.

“Well, the other day, I read that when the movie ‘Gone With the Wind’ came out in, what—1939 or thereabouts? Anyway, when Rhett Butler said: ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’—right there on screen, in front of God and everybody—people just went ballistic!”

“Really?” I said, 10% listening and 90% trying to read the collage of sarcastic bumper stickers on the SUV stopped in front of me.

Apparently interpreting my “Really” as intense fascination, John continued: “Well, to be honest, the men in the audience were probably torn between admiring Mr. Butler’s ‘manliness,’ and worrying that their wives might see them smirking. But in those days a lot of women were horrified; so I suppose the men had to roll with that or sleep on the couch. From what I’ve read, even most of the movie critics were outraged—at least in print.”

My lane was moving again, and I crept forward about 25 feet, stopping next to a hot new Tesla Roadster. John, mistaking silence for rapt attention, kept talking. “So, public swearing was a pretty big deal for our parents’ generation. Now, fast-forward to the ‘80’s, and ‘90’s.

“When movie scripts started having high school kids cuss up a storm, I remember being surprised that the critics never even mentioned it. Then last year, I saw at least two kid-flicks with middle schoolers saying ‘damn’ and ‘shit.’ But that’s not even the disturbing part. Last week, Jane and I were watching this rom-com on Netflix—can’t quite remember the name of it. Anyway, the script had this kid about five years old dropping the F-bomb!” 

I’d had a long history of naively letting John drag me down these kinds of convoluted rabbit holes. So, I pulled my attention away from the Tesla and tried a little reality check. “You sound surprised. Maybe you’ve forgotten how you and I used to talk as adolescents.”

“Ok, fair enough. But at least we knew we were being naughty. What I’m worried about is what this trend might do to our language in future generations.”

Traffic moved forward another 50 feet. I took my foot off the brake and gently toed the gas pedal. “You really think it’s as serious as all that?”

The pitch of John’s voice rose a couple of half-tones. “Well, think about it, man! It’s obvious what’s happening. Think about the trajectory! In the 70’s, George Carlin gives the FCC a wedgie with his ‘Seven Forbidden Words’ and makes a fortune doing it. Movie producers realize that naughtiness sells, so they start salting their scripts with those seven words in teen movies where uptight adults won’t be bothered by them.”

“So?” I said, wishing the truck in front of the Tesla would just move over.

“So, it’s like when kids take up smoking in order to look cool. The seven forbidden words are now only ‘sort-of’ forbidden. They let you sound cool, without all the health risks of tobacco.”

“So?” I repeated.

“Well, when swearing becomes more common in everyday speech, it starts to lose its shock value. I mean, sure, the broadcast stations will still bleep out some of it, but that’s only a trick to help the words maintain their ‘naughty’ status. But how long can standards of decency last when we’re already to the point that the only way to get attention is to have a sweet little 5-year-old drop the F bomb?”

“But that’s just art imitating life, right? Or maybe directors needing to spice up weak storylines?”

John didn’t seem to notice my apathy. “Yeah, maybe. But that’s not what I’m worried about. C’mon, buddy, try to keep up with me, here.

“Cultural trends generally come from the fringes of society, right? But it’s adults working in art and media who take them mainstream. In a few generations, movies went from Rhett Butler dropping the ‘D-bomb,’ to preschoolers dropping the ‘F-bomb’.”

Again, I responded: “So?”

“So, what happens twenty years from now, when that little actor’s generation grows up to become librarians, editors, and members of the Newberry and Caldicott committees? Some will become best-selling authors of kids’ books, right?”

“Sure, I suppose,” I said, glancing in my mirrors.

“And, as long as writers make their living by selling manuscripts, there’ll always be pressure to make their stuff more and more provocative. Maybe they’ll euphemize it at first—maybe have the bully in their 5th grade mystery novel say something like ‘freak you!’ Then, if that goes OK, or wins an award, the next one will say ‘Eff you!’ How long before we start seeing rhyming picture books that go: ‘An elephant’s faithful, one hundred fucking percent’?”

Now, John’s scenario was beginning to disturb me too. I began to visualize a whole generation of kids growing up and entering college with working vocabularies of around five thousand words—the most frequent of which starts with the letter ‘F’. Nodding thoughtfully, I said: “Well, yeah, I think I’m starting to see the problem. It would be disturbing to hear my first grandkid learning that kind of language from a picture book.”

“No!” John exclaimed. “You’re still missing the point! Our parents’ generation were the lucky ones. But if those words start showing up on our grandkids’ second-grade spelling tests, it will take all the power out of them. Then what will we old guys have to swear with? That’s what’s got me worried. I mean, if our generation’s swear words no longer work as intended, how’s a brother supposed to let the world know how ticked-off he’s feeling?”

As tow trucks with flashing lights passed us on the right shoulder, I glanced over at John, soberly wondering how alarmed I should be about his dystopian vision.

And that’s when my old buddy started to snicker.