Language in times of suffering

Are   words of consolation ever helpful? When tragedy has struck, when misfortune has had its run, when irreversible suffering has left its permanent mark on the soul of the unprepared prey, what can one say? Words cannot undo the damage wrought by forces beyond the control of men. The loss of livelihood, life’s savings, and life itself is such an absurd occurrence that any attempt to proffer verbal comfort falls way short. What can you say to that friend who saw a loved one exiting from life — unannounced? What wise words would bring solace to the sibling who lost her income and wealth to  economic downturn, or natural catastrophe, or crime? The recent floods in Punjab, Uttarakhand, J&K and HP have shocked everyone into bewilderment, sorrow and speechlessness.

One can speak eloquently about the jigsaw of life that has been put together bit by bit over decades, and which now exhibits a recognisable rational pattern; but, when those carefully studded puzzle pieces come undone, speech fails to convey the gut-wrenching distress. When life’s more or less coherent progression towards a largely predictable future is broken, language simply fails to cope with that experience.

Language, in this sense, is man’s search for meaning. And suffering, in the same vein, is a defiant revolt against meaning. Human suffering, and not human silence, thus stands in perpetual opposition to language.

Language then must come to terms with suffering, and overcome the dilapidating silence. Cliches must give way to language’s more robust engagement with suffering. The cri de coeur, the instinctual “why” must be asked more loudly and clearly after every tragedy, disruption. Civility requires that consolations are offered; the run of the mill, at least, ensures continuity in communication and human connection. Give and receive words of kindness. But whether suffering is personal or political, caused by individual failures or systemic collapse, language must pursue it with a resolve to expose its excesses. Suffering cannot just saunter out of our living spaces leaving havoc in its wake.

The desert-like silt cannot just be left in thick layers on the ground when flood waters recede. The numbness of suffering must be chipped away with words of resolve and courage.

The Greek word for word and language is logos. It encompasses a broad range of meanings, which include speech, but also reason and principle. In Greek thought, it is logos that governs the universe, giving it orderliness and harmony. It is logos that sustains the universe. The idea was fascinating for the ancient world and the earliest Christian writers such as the Apostle John identified Jesus Christ with logos.

John saw — or perhaps it is better to say that it was revealed to him — what the philosophers could not see. Word and suffering in our fallen world are intertwined, but suffering is not the last word in the narrative of our lives; the last word belongs to the Word.

Language must continue its mission to make our existence meaningful. After every setback, language must shake itself out of numbness, and carry out its mandate to speak into the future with hope and resolve.